Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: Richard II (Modern)
  • Editor: Catherine Lisak
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-436-3

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Catherine Lisak
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Richard II (Modern)

    Enter [Bolingbroke,] Duke of [Lancaster and] Hereford, York, Northumberland, [Ross, Harry Percy, and Willoughby, with]
    Bushy and Green [as] prisoners[, guarded].
    Bring forth these men. --
    [Bushy and Green are brought forth.]
    Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls,
    1315Since presently your souls must part your bodies,
    With too much urging your pernicious lives,
    For 'twere no charity; yet to wash your blood
    From off my hands, here in the view of men
    I will unfold some causes of your deaths:
    1320You have misled a prince, a royal king,
    A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments,
    By you unhappied and disfigured clean.
    You have in manner with your sinful hours
    Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him,
    1325Broke the possession of a royal bed,
    And stained the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks
    With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs.
    Myself, a prince by fortune of my birth,
    Near to the King in blood, and near in love
    1330Till you did make him misinterpret me,
    Have stooped my neck under your injuries
    And sighed my English breath in foreign clouds,
    Eating the bitter bread of banishment,
    Whilst you have fed upon my signories,
    1335Disparked my parks and felled my forest woods,
    From my own windows torn my household coat,
    Rased out my imprese, leaving me no sign,
    Save men's opinions and my living blood,
    To show the world I am a gentleman.
    1340This and much more, much more than twice all this,
    Condemns you to the death. -- See them delivered over
    To execution and the hand of death.
    More welcome is the stroke of death to me
    Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell.
    My comfort is that heaven will take our souls
    And plague injustice with the pains of hell.
    My lord Northumberland, see them dispatched.
    [Exeunt Northumberland, with Bushy and Green, guarded.]
    [To York] Uncle, you say the Queen is at your house.
    For God's sake, fairly let her be entreated.
    1350Tell her I send to her my kind commends.
    Take special care my greetings be delivered.
    A gentleman of mine I have dispatched
    With letters of your love to her at large.
    Thanks, gentle uncle. -- Come, lords, away,
    1355To fight with Glendower and his complices.
    A while to work, and after holiday.