Enter Bullingbrooke with the duke of Yorke. §

*

King. Kind vncle Yorke, the latest newes we heare, Is, that the rebels haue confumed with fire

Our towne Ciceter in Glocefterfbire:

But whether they be tane or flaine, we heare not:
Welcome my lord, what is the newes?

Enter Northumberland.

North. First, to thy facred state wish I all happinesse; The next newes is, I haue to London fent

The heads of Oxford, Salisburie, and Kent: ‡
The manner of their taking may appeare

At large difcourfed in this paper heere.

King. We thanke thee gentle Percie for thy paines, And to thy worth will adde right worthy gaines.

Enter lord Fitzwater.

Fitz. My lord, I haue from Oxford fent to London,
The heads of Broccas, and fir Benet Seely;
Two of the dangerous conforted traytors,

That fought at Oxford thy dire ouerthrow.

King. Thy paines Fitz : fhall not be forgot, Right noble is thy merit well I wot.

Enter Henrie Percie. §§

Per. The graund confpirator abbot of Westminster, With clogge of confcience and fowre melancholie, Hath yeelded vp his body to the graue;

But here is Carleil liuing, to abide

Thy kingly doome, and fentence of his pride.

Flourish. Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, with other lords and attendants.

• Kind omitted.

† torne of.

Salisburie, Spencer, Blunt, and

§§ and Carlile.

King. Carleil, this is your doome,

Choose out fome fecret place, fome reuerend roome
More then thou haft, and with it ioy thy life *,
So as thou liu'ft in peace, die free from strife:
For though mine enemie thou haft euer been,
High fparkes of honour in thee haue I + feene.

Enter Exton with the coffin.

Exton. Great king, within this coffin I prefent Thy buried feare: heerein all breathleffe lies The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,

Richard of Burdeaux, by me hither brought.

King. Exton, I thanke thee not, for thou haft wrought

A deede of flaughter with thy fatall hand,

Vpon my head, and all this famous land.

Exton. From your owne mouth (my lo ‡.) did I this deed
King. They loue not poyfon, that do poyfon need,
Nor doe I thee, though I did with him dead;

I hate the murtherer, loue him murthered:
The guilt of confcience take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word, nor princelie fauour:
With Caine go wander through the fhade of night,
And neuer fhew thy head by day nor light.
Lords, I proteft my foule is full of woe,

That blood should fprinckle me to || make me grow:
Come mourne with me, for what § I doe lament,
And put on fullen blacke incontinent:

Ile make a voyage to the Holy Land,

To wash this blood off from my guiltie hand.
March fadly after, grace my mournings heere,
In weeping after this vntimely beere.

THE

HISTORY

O F

HENRY the Fourth,

WITH THE

Battell at Shrewfeburie, betweene the King, and Lord Henrie Percy, furnamed Henrie Hotspur of the North.

With the Humorous Conceites of

Sir IO HN FALSTAFFE.

Newly corrected by W. SHAKESPEARE.

London, Printed by W. W. for Matthew Law, and are to be fold at his Shop in Paules Church-yard, neere vnto S. Auguftines Gate, at the Signe of the Foxe. 1613.

This Copy has been collated with the following.

Henry the Fourth 1599, S. S. for Andrew Wife. 1632 I. Norton, fold by W. Sheares.

1639 Ditto, fold by Hugh Perry.