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Modern English
Bring forth these men. Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls-- Since 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. You 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, Broke the possession of a royal bed And stain’d 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 Till you did make him misinterpret me, Have stoop’d my neck under your injuries, And sigh’d my English breath in foreign clouds, Eating the bitter bread of banishment; Whilst you have fed upon my signories, Dispark’d my parks and fell’d my forest woods, From my own windows torn my household coat, Razed out my imprese, leaving me no sign, Save men’s opinions and my living blood, To show the world I am a gentleman. This and much more, much more than twice all this, Condemns you to the death. See them deliver’d over To execution and the hand of death.
Bring out these men. Bushy and Green, I won’t torment your souls— Since your souls must soon leave your bodies— By pushing too hard on you with your harmful lives, Because it wouldn’t be merciful; but to clear my hands From the stain of your blood, in front of everyone I will explain some reasons for your deaths. You’ve misled a prince, a royal king, A noble man in birth and appearance, Who by you was made unfortunate and completely disfigured: With your sinful actions, you’ve caused a separation Between him and his queen, Ruined the sanctity of his royal bed And stained the beauty of a fair queen’s face With tears pulled from her eyes by your vile wrongs. I, a prince by birth, close to the king in blood, and close in love Until you made him misunderstand me, Have bowed my neck to your insults, And sighed my English breath in foreign lands, Eating the bitter bread of exile; While you’ve lived off my estates, Taken down my fences and chopped down my forest woods, Torn my household’s emblem from my windows, Erased my coat of arms, leaving me no sign, Except for people’s opinions and my living blood, To show the world that I’m a gentleman. This, and much more—far more than all of this— Condemns you to death. See them handed over To execution and the executioner’s hands.
More welcome is the stroke of death to me Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell.
The blow of death is more welcome 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 only comfort is that heaven will take our souls And punish injustice with the torments of hell.
My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch’d.
My Lord Northumberland, see to it that they’re dealt with.
Uncle, you say the queen is at your house; For God’s sake, fairly let her be entreated: Tell her I send to her my kind commends; Take special care my greetings be deliver’d.
Uncle, you say the queen is at your house; For God’s sake, treat her kindly: Tell her I send my warm regards; Make sure my greetings are delivered properly.
A gentleman of mine I have dispatch’d With letters of your love to her at large.
One of my men I’ve sent With letters of your love to her in full.
Thank, gentle uncle. Come, lords, away. To fight with Glendower and his complices: Awhile to work, and after holiday.
Thank you, dear uncle. Come, lords, let’s go. To fight with Glendower and his followers: Work for a while, then after, rest.