Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France,
And cloister thee in some religious house:

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
Transform'd, and weaken'd? Hath 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:

And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief, 6
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,

And send the hearers weeping to their beds.
For why, the senseless brands will sympathize
The heavy accent of thy moving tongue,

And, in compassion, weep the fire out:

And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black,
For the deposing of a rightful king.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, attended.

North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is chang'd; You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.

+" and the king of beasts?"- MALONE.

6

to quit their grief;] To retaliate their mournful stories,

And, madam, there is order ta'en for you;

With all swift speed you must away to France.

K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder where-withal The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,

hours of age

More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head,
Shall break into corruption: thou shalt think,
Though he divide the realm, and give thee half,
It is too little, helping him to all;

And 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.
The love of wicked friends converts to fear;
That fear, to hate; and hate turns one, or both,
To worthy danger, and deserved death.

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 'twixt thee and me;
not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.

And yet
Part us, Northumberland; I towards the north,
Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime;
My wife to France; from whence, set forth in pomp,
She came adorned hither like sweet May,

Sent back like Hallowmas7, or short'st of day.

7

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.

November.

Hallowmas,] All-hallows, or all-hallow-tide; the first of

-

Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here;
Better far off, than near, be ne'er the near'. 8
Go, count thy way with sighs; I, mine with groans.
Queen. So longest way shall have the longest moans.
K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being
short,

And piece the way out with a heavy heart.
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 mine own again; 'twere no good part, To take on 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.

The same.

SCENE II.

A Room in the Duke of York's Palace.

Enter YORK, and his Duchess.

Duch. 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?

At that sad stop, my lord,

Duch. Where rude misgovern'd hands, from windows' 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,

8 Better far off, than · near, be neʼer the near'.] The meaning is, it is better to be at a great distance, than being near each other, to find that we yet are not likely to be peaceably and happily united..

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,9
Jesu 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.

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

York. As in a theatre1 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 God, for some strong purpose, steel'd
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,
And barbarism itself have pitied him.

• With painted imag'ry, had said at once,] Our author probably was thinking of the painted clothes that were hung in the streets, in the pageants that were exhibited in his own time; in which the figures sometimes had labels issuing from their mouths, containing sentences of gratulation.

1 As in a theatre, &c.] "The painting of this description (says, Dryden, in his preface to Troilus and Cressida,) is so lively, and the words so moving, that I have scarce read any thing comparable to it, in any other language."

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 allow.

Enter AUMERLE.

Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle.

York.

Aumerle that was;2

But that is lost, for being Richard's friend,

And, madam, you must call him Rutland now:
I am in parliament pledge for his truth,

And lasting fealty to the new-made king.

Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the violets now, That strew the green lap of the new-come spring? Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not: God knows, I had as lief be none, as one.

York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of time, Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime.

What news from Oxford? hold those justs and triumphs? Aum. For ought I know, my lord, they do.

York. You will be there, I know.

Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so.

York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy

bosom?

Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing.

Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing.

York.

No matter then who sees it:

I will be satisfied, let me see the writing.

Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me;

It is a matter of small consequence,

Which for some reasons I would not have seen.

York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. I fear, I fear,

2- Aumerle that was ;] The dukes of Aumerle, Surrey, and Exeter, were, by an act of Henry's first parliament, deprived of their dukedoms, but were allowed to retain their earldoms of Rutland, Kent, and Huntingdon.