Queen.
This way the king will come; my condemned lord
Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke:
Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth
Have any resting for her true king's queen. Enter King Richard and Guards.
But soft, but see, or rather do not see,
My fair rose wither: Yet look up; behold;
That you in pity may dissolve to dew,
And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.—
Thou map of honour; thou King Richard's tomb,
And not King Richard; thou most beauteous inn,
Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee.

K. Rich.
Join not with grief,^{2 note} fair woman, do not so,
To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul,
To think our former state a happy dream;
From which awak'd, the truth of what we are
Shows us but this. I am sworn brother, sweet,
To grim necessity; and he and I
Will keep a league till death.

Queen.
What, is my Richard, both in shape and mind,
Transform'd, and weaken'd? Hath this Bolingbroke
Depos'd thine intellect? Hath he been in thy heart?
The lion, dying, thrusteth 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? kiss the rod,
And fawn on rage with base humility,
Which art a lion, and a king of beasts?

K. Rich.
A king of beasts, indeed; if aught but beasts,
I had been still a happy king of men.
Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France:
Think I am dead, and that even here thou tak'st,
As from my death-bed, my last living leave.
In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire
With good old folks; and let them tell thee tales
Of woeful ages, long ago betid:^{3 note}
And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief,^{4 note}
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,
And send the hearers weeping to their beds. 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 swift speed you must away to France(B)8Q0154.

K. Rich.
Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal
The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,—
The time shall not be many hours of age
More than it is,
Ere he shall think that thou, which know'st the way
To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,
Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way
To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne.(C)8Q0155

North.
My guilt be on my head, and there an end.
Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith.

K. Rich.
Doubly divorc'd?—Bad men, ye violate
A twofold marriage; 'twixt my crown and me;
And then, betwixt me and my married wife.—
Let me unkiss the oath betwixt thee and me;
And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.

Queen.
And must we be divided? must we part?

K. Rich.
Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart.

Queen.
Banish us both, and send the king with me.

North.
That were some love, but little policy.

Queen.
Then whither he goes, thither let me go.

K. Rich.
So two, together weeping, make one woe.
Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here;
Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief,
Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.
One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part;
Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart. [They kiss.

Queen.
Give me my own again; 'twere no good part,
To take upon me to keep, and kill thy heart. [Kiss again.
So, now I have mine own again, begone,
That I may strive to kill it with a groan.

K. Rich.
We make woe wanton with this fond delay:
Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. [Exeunt. Scene II. —A ROOM IN THE DUKE OF YORK'S PALACE. Enter York and his Duchess.

Duc.
My lord, you told me you would tell the rest,
When weeping made you break the story off
Of our two cousins coming into London.

York.
Where did I leave?

Duc.
At that sad stop, my lord,
Where rude misgovern'd hands, from window tops,
Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head.

York.
Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bolingbroke,—
Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,
Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,—
With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course,
While all tongues cried—God save thee, Bolingbroke!
You would have thought the very windows spake,
So many greedy looks of young and old
Through casements darted their desiring eyes
Upon his visage; and that all the walls,

With painted imag'ry, had said at once,^{5 note}—
Heaven preserve thee! welcome Bolingbroke!
Whilst he, from one side to the other turning,
Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck,
Bespake them thus,—I thank you, countrymen:
And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along.

Duc.
Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the while?

York.
As in a theatre, the eyes of men,
After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious,
Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him;
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home:
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head;
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,—
His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience,—
That had not heaven, for some strong purpose steel'd
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,
And barbarism itself have pitied him.
But heaven hath a hand in these events;
To whose high will we bound our calm contents.
To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,
Whose state and honour I for aye^{6 note} allow. [Exeunt. Scene III. —POMFRET. THE DUNGEON OF THE CASTLE.(D)8Q0156 Exton and Two Attendants.

Ext.
Didst thou not mark the king, what words he spake?
Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?
Was it not so?

Ser.
Those were his very words.

Ext.
Have I no friend? quoth he: he spake it twice,
And urged it twice together; did he not?

Ser.
He did.

Ext.
And, speaking it, he wistfully look'd on me;
As who should say,—I would, thou wert the man
That would divorce this terror from my heart;
Meaning, the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go;
I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. [Exeunt. Enter King Richard.

K. Rich.
I have been studying how I may compare
This prison, where I live, unto the world:
And, for because the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it;—Yet I'll hammer it out.
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul;
My soul, the father: and these two beget
A generation of still-breeding thoughts,
And these same thoughts people this little world;^{7 note}
Thus play I, in one person, many people,
And none contented: sometimes am I king;
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am: Then crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king;
Then am I king'd again; and, by-and-by,
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing. Enter Groom.

Groom.
Hail! royal prince.

K. Rich.
Thanks, noble peer;
What art thou? and how comest thou hither,
Where no man ever comes, but that sad dog,^{8 note}
That brings me food, to make misfortune live?

Groom.
I was a poor groom of thy stable, king(E)8Q0157,
When thou wert king, who travelling towards York,
With much ado, at length have gotten leave
To look upon my sometime master's face.^{9 note}
O, how it yearn'd my heart, when I beheld,
In London streets, that coronation day.
When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary!(F)8Q0158
That horse, that thou so often hast bestrid;
That horse, that I so carefully have dress'd!

K. Rich.
Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend,
How went he under him?

Groom.
So proudly, as if he disdain'd the ground.

K. Rich.
So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back!
That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;
This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.
Would he not stumble?—would he not fall down
(Since pride must have a fall), and break the neck
Of that proud man that did usurp his back?
Forgiveness, horse, why do I rail on thee,
Since thou, created to be aw'd by man,
Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse;
And yet I bear a burden like an ass,
Spur-gall'd, and tir'd, by jauncing Bolingbroke.^{10 note} Enter Keeper, with a dish.

Keep. [to the Groom]
Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay.

K. Rich.
If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away.

Groom.
What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. [Exit.

Keep.
My lord, will't please you to fall to?

K. Rich.
Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do.

Keep.
My lord, I dare not; Sir Pierce of Exton, who
Lately came from the king, commands the contrary.

K. Rich.
The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and thee!
Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. [Seizes a knife from the table, and strikes at the Keeper.

Keep.
Help! help! help! Enter Exton, and Eight Attendants, armed.

K. Rich.
How now? what means death in this rude assault?
Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument. [Snatching a weapon, and killing four of them. Then Exton strikes him down.
That hand shall burn in never quenching fire,
That staggers thus my person.—
Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high;
Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward here to die.(G)8Q0159 [Dies. The Scene is closed in by a Curtain, which, after a short pause, is withdrawn, and discovers Scene IV. —ST. GEORGE'S HALL, WINDSOR CASTLE. Flourish. Bolingbroke,^{11 note} as King, accompanied by his four sons,^{12 note}