ACT V. SCENE Í. London. A Street leading to the Tower. Enter Queen, and Ladies. Queen. This way the king will come; this is the way To Julius Cæfar's ill-erected tower, To whofe flint bofom my condemned lord Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke : Here let us reft, if this rebellious earth Enter King RICHARD, and guards. But foft, but fee, or rather do not fee, And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.— K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not fo, From which awak'd, the truth of what we are Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, Our Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, Which our profane hours here have stricken down. Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and mind Tranform'd, and weakened? Hath Bolingbroke Depos'd thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart? The lion, dying, thrufteth forth his paw, And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage To be o'erpower'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like, Take thy correction mildly? kifs the rod; And fawn on rage with base humility, Which art a lion, and a king of beasts? K. Rich. A king of beafts, indeed; if aught but beasts, I had been still a happy king of men. Good fometime queen, prepare thee hence for France : In winter's tedious nights, fit by the fire With good old folks; and let them tell thee tales And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief, And fend the hearers weeping to their beds. And, in compaffion, weep the fire out: Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, attended. North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is chang'd; You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.—— And, madam, there is order ta'en for you; With all fwift fpced you must away to France. K. Rich. K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal It is too little, helping him to all; And he shall think, that thou, which know'st the way To pluck him headlong from the ufurped throne. North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. K. Rich. Doubly divorc'd ?-Bad men, ye violate Sent back like Hallowmas, or short'st of day. Queen. And muft we be divided? must we part? K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from Queen. Banish us both, and send the king with me. Weep Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; Go, count thy way with fighs; I, mine with groans. And piece the way out with a heavy heart. Since wedding it, there is fuch length in grief. To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart. [Kifs again. K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay : Once more, adieu; the reft let forrow fay. SCENE II. [Exeunt. The fame. A Room in the Duke of YORK's Palace. Enter YORK, and his Duchefs. Duch. My lord, you told me, you would tell the rest, When weeping made you break the ftory off Of our two coufins coming into London. York. Where did I leave? At that fad ftop, my lord, Duch. Where rude mifgovern'd hands, from windows' tops, Threw duft and rubbish on king Richard's head. York. Then, as I faid, the duke, great Bolingbroke,Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, Which his afpiring rider seem'd to know,— With flow, but stately pace, kept on his course, While all tongues cried-God fave thee, Bolingbroke ! So many greedy looks of young and old Duch. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the while? After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage, Even fo, or with much more contempt, men's eyes That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd But heaven hath a hand in these events; To whose high will we bound our calm contents. Whose state and honour I for aye allow. |