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Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. Tears show their love, but want their remedies.

Aum. Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. Cousin, I am too young to be your father,
K. Rich. What must the king do now? Must he Though you are old enough to be my heir.

What will have I'll give, and willing too,
The king shall do it. Must he be depos'd ?

For do we must what force will have us do.-
The king shall be contented. Must he lose

Set on towards London.—Cousin, is it so ?
The name of king? o' God's name, let it go:

Boling. Yea, my good lord.
I'll give my jewels for a set of beads,

K. Rich.

Then, I must not say no. My gorgeous palace for a hermitage,

(Flourish. Exeunt. My gay apparel for an alms-man's gown,

SCENE IV.–Langley. The Duke of York's Garden,
My figur'd goblets for a dish of wood,

Enter the Queen, and two Ladies.
My sceptre for a palmer's walking staff

My subjects for a pair of carved saints,

Queen. What sport shall we devise here in this garden,
And my large kingdom for a little grave,

To drive away the heavy thought of care ?
A little little grave, an obscure grave:

1 Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowls.
Or I'll be buried in the king's bighway,

Queen. 'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs,
Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet And that my fortune runs against the bias.
May hourly trample on their sovereign's head;

1 Lady. Madam, we'll dance.
For on my heart they tread, now whilst I live,

Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight,
And, buried unce, why not upon my head ?-

When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief:
Aumerle, thou weep’st; my tender-hearted cousin !- Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport.
We'll make foul weather with despised tears ;

1 Lady. Madam, we'll tell tales.
Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn, Qucen. Of sorrow, or of joy ?
And make a dearth in this revolting land :

1 Lady. Of either, madam.
Or shall we play the wantons with our woes,

Queen. Of neither, girl;
And make some pretty match with shedding tears ? For if of joy, being altogether wanting,
As thus ;-to drop them still upon one place,

It doth remember me the more of sorrow;
Till they have fretted us a pair of graves

Or if of grief, being altogether had,
Within the earth; and, therein laid, there lies It adds more sorrow to my want of joy ;
Two kinsmen diggd their graves with weeping eyes.

For what I have I need not to repeat,
Would not this ill do well ?-Well, well, I see And what I want it boots not to complain.
I talk but idly, and you mock at me.-

1 Lady. Madam, I'll sing.
Most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland,


"Tis well that thou hast cause; What says king Bolingbroke? will his majesty But thou should'st please me better, would'st thou Give Richard leave to live till Richard die?

You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay.

1 Lady. I could weep, madam, would it do you good.
North. My lord, in the base court he doth attend Queen. And I could sing, would weeping do me good,
To speak with you: may't please you to come down? | And never borrow any tear of thee.
K. Rich. Down, down, I come; like glistering But stay, here come the gardeners :

Let's step into the shadow of these trees.--
Wanting the manage of unruly jades.

My wretchedness unto a row of pins,
[North. retires again to Boling. They'll talk of state ; for every one doth so
In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, Against a change. Woe is forerun with woe.
To come at traitors' calls, and do them grace.

(Queen and Ladies retire. In the base court? Come down? down, court! down,

Enter a Gardener and two Servants. king!

Gard. Go, bind thou up yond' dangling apricocks, For night-owls shriek, where mounting larks should Which, like unruly children, make their sire sing.

[Exeunt, from above. Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight:
Boling. What says his majesty?

Give some supportance to the bending twigs.-

Sorrow and grief of heart Go thou, and like an executioner,
Make him speak fondly, like a frantic man:

Cut off the heads of too-fast-growing sprays,
Yet he is come.

That look too lofty in our commonwealth :
Enter King Richard, and his Attendants, below. All must be even in our government.--
Boling. Stand all apart,

You thus employ’d, I will go root away
And show fair duty to his majesty.-

The noisome weeds, that without profit suck
My gracious lord,

[Kneeling. The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.
K. Rich. Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee,

1 Serv, Why should we, in the compass of a pale,
To make the base earth proud with kissing it: Keep law, and form, and due proportion,
Me rather had, my heart might feel your love, Showing, as in a model, our firm estate,
Than my unpleas'd eye see your courtesy.

When our sea-walled garden, the whole land,
Up, cousin, up: your heart is up, I know,

Is full of weeds; her fairest flowers chok'd

Thus high at least, although your knee be low. Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd,

Boling. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. Her knots disorder'd, and her wholesome herbs
K. Rich. Your own is yours; and I am yours, and all. Swarming with caterpillars ?

Boling. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, Gard.
As my true service shall deserve

He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring,
K. Rich. Well you deserve :--they well deserve to Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf:

The weeds that his broad-spreading leaves did shelter,
That know the strong'st and surest way to get.-

That seem'd in eating him to hold him up,
Uncle, give me your hand: nay, dry your eyes ; Are pluck'd up, root and all, by Bolingbroke;


Hold thy peace.

your love.

I mean, the earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green.

Cam’st thou by these ill tidings ? speak, thou wretch. 1 Serv. What! are they dead ?

Gard. Pardon me, madam : little joy have I, Gard.

They are; and Bolingbroke To breathe these news, yet what I say is true. Hath seiz'd the wasteful king. - What pity is it, King Richard, he is in the mighty hold That he had not so trimm'd and dress’d his land, Of Bolingbroke: their fortunes both are weigh'd: As we this garden. At the time of year

In your lord's scale is nothing but himself, We wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees, And some few vanities that make him light; Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood,

But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, With too much riches it confound itself:

Besides himself, are all the English peers, Had he done so to great and growing men,

And with that odds he weighs king Richard down. They might have liv'd to bear, and he to taste Post you to London, and you'll find it so ; Their fruits of duty. Superfluous branches

I speak no more than every one doth know. We lop away, that bearing boughs may live:

Queen. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot, Had he done so, himself had borne the crown, Doth not thy embassage belong to me, Which waste and idle hours have quite thrown down. And am I last that knows it? 0! thou think'st 1 Serv. What! think you, then, the king shall be To serve me last, that I may longest keep depos'd ?

Thy sorrow in my breast.-Come, ladies, go Gard. Depress'd he is already; and depos'd, To meet at London London's king in woe.'Tis doubt, he will be : letters came last night What! was I born to this, that my sad look To a dear friend of the good duke of York's,

Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke ?That tell black tidings.

Gardener, for telling me these news of woe, Queen. O! I am press’d to death, through want of Pray God, the plants thou graft'st may never grow. speaking. [Coming forward.

[Exeunt Queen and Ladies. Thou, old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden, Gard. Poor queen ! so that thy state might be no How dares thy harsh, rude tongue sound this unpleasing worse, news?

I would my skill were subject to thy curse. What Eve, what serpent hath suggested thee

Here did she fall a tear; here, in this place, To make a second fall of cursed man?

I'll get a bank of rue, sour herb of grace: Why dost thou say king Richard is depos’d?

Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen, Dar’st thou, thou little better thing than earth, In the remembrance of a weeping queen. [Exeunt. Divine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how,



SCENE I.-London. Westminster Hall. There is my gage, the manual seal of death, The Lords spiritual on the right side of the Throne ; And will maintain what thou hast said is false

That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest, the Lords temporal on the left ; the Commons below. In thy heart-blood, though being all too base Enter BOLINGBROKE, Aumerle, Surrey, NORTHUM- To stain the temper of my knightly sword. BERLAND, Percy, Fitzwater, another Lord, the Bishop of Carlisle, the Abbot of Westminster, and

Boling. Bagot, forbear: thou shalt not take it up.

Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best Attendants.

In all this presence, that hath mov'd me so. Boling. Call forth Bagot.

Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathy, Enter Bagot, guarded.

There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine. Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind,

By that fair sun which shows me where thou stand'st, What thou dost know of noble Gloster's death; I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak’st it, Who wrought it with the king, and who perform'd That thou wert cause of noble Gloster's death. The bloody office of his timeless end.

If thou deny'st it twenty times, thou liest ; Bagot. Then, set before my face the lord Aumerle. And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart, Boling. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man. Where it was forged, with my rapier's point.

Bagot. My lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue Aum. Thou dar'st not, coward, live to see that day. Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd.

Fitz. Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour. In that dead time when Gloster's death was plotted, Aum. Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this. I heard you say,--" Is not my arm of length,

Percy. Aumerle, thou liest; his honour is as true That reacheth from the restful English court,

In this appeal, as thou art all unjust; As far as Calais, to mine uncle's head?”

And, that thou art so, there I throw my gage, Amongst much other talk, that very time,

To prove it on thee to th' extremest point I heard you say, that you had rather refuse

Of mortal breathing.

Seize it if thou dar'st. The offer of an hundred thousand crowns,

Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off, Than Bolingbroke's return to England;

And never brandish more revengeful steel Adding withal, how blest this land would be

Over the glittering helmet of my foe! In this your cousin's death.

Lord. I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle ; Aum.

Princes, and noble lords, And spur thee on with full as many lies What answer shall I make to this base man?

As may be holla'd in thy treacherous ear Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars,

From sun to sun. There is my honour's pawn : On equal terms to give him chastisement ?

Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st. Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd

Aum. Who sets me else ? by heaven, I'll throw at all. With the attainder of his slanderous lips.-

I have a thousand spirits in one breast,



To answer twenty thousand such as you.

His captain, steward, deputy elect, Surrey. My lord Fitzwater, I do remember well Anointed, crowned, planted many years, The very time Aumerle and you did talk.

Be judg’d by subject and inferior breath,
Fitz. "'Tis very true: you were in presence then; And he not present! O! forfend it, God,
And you can witness with me this is true.

That, in a Christian climate, souls refin'd
Surrey. As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true. Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed !
Fitz. Surrey, thou liest.

I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,

Dishonourable boy! Stirr'd up by God thus boldly for his king. That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword,

My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king, That it shall render vengeance and revenge, .

Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king; Till thou, the lie-giver, and that lie, do lie

And if you crown him, let me prophesy In earth as quiet as thy father's scull.

The blood of English shall manure the ground,
In proof whereof, there is my honour's pawn : And future ages groan for this foul act :
Engage it to the trial, if thou dar’st.

Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels,
Fitz. How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse ! And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars
If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live,

Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound;
I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness,

Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny, And spit upon him, whilst I say he lies,

Shall here inhabit, and this land be callid And lies, and lies. There is my bond of faith, The field of Golgotha, and dead men's sculls. To tie thee to my strong correction.

0! if you raise this house against this house, As I intend to thrive in this new world,

It will the woefullest division prove, Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal :

That ever fell upon this cursed earth.
Besides, I heard the banish’d Norfolk say,

Prevent, resist it, let it not be so,
That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men Lest child, child's children, cry against you—woe !
To execute the noble duke at Calais.

North. Well have you argued, sir; and, for your pains,
Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a gage. Of capital treason we arrest you here.-
That Norfolk lies, here do I throw down this, My lord of Westminster, be it your charge
If he may be repeal'd to try his honour.

To keep him safely till his day of trial.
Boling. These differences shall all rest under gage, May it please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit.
Till Norfolk be repeal'd : repeal'd he shall be,

Boling. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view
And, though mine enemy, restor'd again

He may surrender: so we shall proceed To all his lands and signories. When he's return'd,

Without suspicion. Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial.


I will be his conduct. [Erit. Bishop. That honourable day shall ne'er be seen. Boling, Lords, you that here are under our arrest, Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought

Procure your sureties for your days of answer.For Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field,

Little are we beholding to your love, [To the Bishop. Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross

And look for little at your helping hands. Against black pagans, Turks, and Saracens;

Re-enter York, with King Richard, and Officers bearAnd toil'd with works of war, retir'd himself

ing the Crown, &c. To Italy, and there, at Venice, gave

K. Rich. Alack! why am I sent for to a king, His body to hat pleasant country's earth,

Before I have shook off the regal thoughts And his pure soul unto his captain Christ,

Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet have learn’d Under whose colours he had fought so long.

To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my limbs : Boling. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead?

Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me Bishop. As surely as I live, my lord.

To this submission. Yet I well remember Boling. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the The favours of these men: were they not mine? bosom

Did they not sometime cry, All hail! to me? Of good old Abraham !-Lords appellants,

So Judas did to Christ; but he, in twelve, Your differences shall all rest under gage,

Found truth in all, but one: I, in twelve thousand, none.
Till we assign to you your days of trial.

God save the king !--Will no man say, amen?
Enter York, attended.

Am I both priest and clerk ? well then, amen.
York. Great duke of Lancaster, I come to thee God save the king! although I be not he;
From plume-pluck'd Richard, who with willing soul And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me.-
Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields

To do what service am I sent for hither?
To the possession of thy royal hand.

York. To do that office of thine own good will,
Ascend his throne, descending now from him, Which tired majesty did make thee offer;
And long live Henry, of that name the fourth! The resignation of thy state and crown

Boling. In God's name I'll ascend the regal throne. To Harry Bolingbroke.
Bishop. Marry, God forbid !-

K. Rich. Give me the crown.—Here, cousin, seize
Worst in this royal presence may I speak,

[Crown brought. Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth.

Here, cousin, on this side my hand, and on that side, Would God, that any in this noble presence

yours. Were enough noble to be upright judge

Now is this golden crown like a deep well,
Of noble Richard : then, true nobless would

That owes two buckets, filling one another;
Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong. The emptier ever dancing in the air,
What subject can give sentence on his king?

The other down, unseen, and full of water :
And who sits here that is not Richard's subject? That bucket down, and full of tears, am I,
Thieves are not judg'd but they are by to hear, Drinking my grief, whilst you mount up on high.
Although apparent guilt be seen in them;

Boling. I thought you had been willing to resign.
And shall the figure of God's majesty,

K.Rich. My crown, I am; but still mygriefs are mine.

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the crown ;



You may my glories and my state depose,

And know not now what name to call myself. But not my griefs : still am I king of those.

0! that I were a mockery king of snow, Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,

To melt myself away in water drops ! K. Rich. Your cares set up do not pluck my cares Good king,-great king, -and yet not greatly good, down.

And if my name be sterling yet in England, My care is loss of care, by old care done;

Let it command a mirror hither straight, Your care is gain of care, by new care won:

That it may show me what a face I have, The cares I give, I have, though given away; Since it is bankrupt of his majesty. They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay. Boling. Go some of you, and fetch a looking-glass. Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown?

[Exit an Attendant

. K. Rich. Ay, no ;—no, ay ;-for I must nothing be; North. Read o'er this paper, while

the glass doth come. Therefore no no, for I resign to thee.

K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me ere I come to hell. Now mark me how I will undo myself.

Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland. I give this heavy weight from off my head,

North. The commons will not then be satisfied. And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand,

K. Rich. They shall be satisfied: I'll read enough,
The pride of kingly sway from out my heart: When I do see the very book indeed,
With mine own tears I wash away my balm,

Where all
my sins are writ, and that's—myself

. With mine own hands I give away my crown,

Re-enter Attendant with a Glass. With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, Give me the glass, and therein will I read.With mine own breath release all duties, rites : No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck All pomp and majesty I do forswear;

So many blows upon this face of mine, My manors, rents, revenues, I forego;

And made no deeper wounds ?-0, flattering glass ! My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny:

Like to my followers in prosperity, God pardon all oaths that are broke to me!

Thou dost beguile me. Was this face the face,
God keep all vows unbroke that swear to thee! That every day under his household roof
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd, Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face,
And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all achiev'd ! That like the sun did make beholders wink?
Long may'st thou live in Richard's seat to sit, Was this the face, that fac'd so many follies,
And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit !

And was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke?
God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says, A brittle glory shineth in this face :
And send him many years of sunshine days !-- As brittle as the glory is the face ;
What more remains ?

(Dashes the Glass against the ground. North. No more, but that you read [Offering a paper. For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers.These accusations, and these grievous crimes,

Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport: Committed by your person, and your followers, How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face. Against the state and profit of this land;

Boling. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd That, by confessing them, the souls of men

The shadow of your face. May deem that you are worthily depos'd.

K. Rich.

Say that again. K. Rich. Must I do so ? and must I ravel out The shadow of my sorrow? Ha ! let's see:My weav'd up folly ? Gentle Northumberland, 'Tis very true, my grief lies all within ; If thy offences were upon record,

And these external manners of lament Would it not shame thee, in so fair a troop,

Are merely shadows to the unseen grief, To read a lecture of them? If thou would'st,

That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul; There should'st thou find one heinous article, There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king, Containing the deposing of a king,

For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,

Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven.- How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon, Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon me, And then begone and trouble you no more. Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself, Shall I obtain it? Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands, Boling. Name it, fair cousin. Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates

K. Rich. Fair cousin ! I am greater than a king; Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross,

For, when I was a king, my flatterers And water cannot wash away your sin.

Were then but subjects; being now a subject, North. My lord, dispatch : read o'er these articles. I have a king here to my flatterer.

K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see; Being so great, I have no need to beg. And yet salt water blinds them not so much,

Boling. Yet ask. But they can see a sort of traitors here.

K. Rich. And shall I have it? Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,

Buling. You shall. I find myself a traitor with the rest;

K. Rich. Why then give me leave to go. For I have given here my soul's consent,

Boling. Whither? To undeck the pompous body of a king;

K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your sights. Made glory base, and sovereignty a slave,

Boling. Go, some of you; convey him to the Tower, Proud majesty a ubject; state a peasant.

K. Rich. O, good ! Convey ?-Conveyers are you all, North. My lord,

That rise thus nimbly by a irue king's fall. K. Rich. Nolord of thine, thou haught, insulting man,

(Exeunt K. Richard, and Guard. Nor no man's lord : I have no name, no title,

Boling. On Wednesday next we solemnly set down No, not that name was given me at the fout,

Our coronation : lords, prepare yourselves. But 'tis usurp'd.-Alack, the heavy day!

[Exeunt all but the Abbot, Bishop of Carlisle

, and That I have worn so many winters out,



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Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. You shall not only take the sacrament

Bishop. The woe's to come : the children yet unborn To bury mine intents, but also to effect
Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. Whatever I shall happen to devise.

Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot I see your brows are full of discontent,
To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?

Your hearts of sorrow,

and your eyes

of tears : Abbot. My lord, before I freely speak my mind Come home with me to supper; I will lay herein,

A plot, shall show us all a merry day.



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SCENE 1.—London. A Street leading to the Tower. With all swift speed you must away to France.

K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder, wherewithal
Enter Queen, and Attendants.

The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,
Queen. This way the king will come : this is the way the time shall not be many hours of age
To Julius Cæsar's ill-erected tower,

More than it is, ere foul sin gathering head
To whose fint bosom my condemned lord

Shall break into corruption. Thou shalt think,
Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke.

Though he divide the realm, and yive thee half,
Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth

It is too little, helping him to all :
Have any resting for her true king's queen.

And he shall think, that thou, which know'st the way
Enter King RichARD, and Guard.

To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,
But soft, but see, or rather do not see,

Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way
My fair rose wither: yet look up, behold,

To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne.
in pity may dissolve to dew,

The love of wicked friends converts to fear;
And wash bim fresh again with true-love tears. That fear to hate; and hate turns one, or both,
Ah! thou, the model where old Troy did stand; : To worthy danger and deserved death.
Thou map of honour; thou king Richard's tomb, North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end.
And not king Richard ; thou most beauteous inn, Take leave, and part, for you must part forth with.
Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee, K. Rich. Doubly divorc'd !-- Bad men, ye violate
When triumph is become an alehouse guest?

A twofold marriage ; 'twixt my crown and me,
K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, And then, betwixt me and my married wife.-
To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul, Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me;
To think our former state a happy dream;

[They embrace.
From which awak'd, the truth of what we are And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.-
Shows us but this. I am sworn brother, sweet, Part us, Northumberland : I towards the north,
To grim vecessity; and he and I

Where shivering cold and sickness pine the clime;
Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, My wife to France: from whence, set forth in pomp,
And cloister thee in some religious house:

She came adorned hither like sweet May,
Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, Sent back like Hallowmas, or shortest day.
Which our profane hours here have stricken down. Queen. And must we be divided ? must we part ?

Queen. What! is my Richard both in shape and mind K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart
Transform'd and weakend? Hath this Bolingbroke

from heart. Depos'd thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart? Queen. Banish us both, and send the king with me. The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw,

North. That were some love, but little policy. And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go. To be o'erpower'd ; and wilt thou, pupil-like,

K. Rich. So two, together weeping, make one woe.
Take thy correction mildly? kiss the rod,

Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here;
And fawn on rage with base humility,

Better far off, than near, being ne'er the near.
Which art a lion, and a king of beasts ?

Go; count thy way with sighs, I mine with groans.
K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed; if aught but beasts, Queen. So longest way shall have the longest moans.
I had been still a happy king of men.

K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way
Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France: being short,
Think I am dead; and that even here thou tak'st, And piece the way out with a heavy heart.
As from my death-bed, my last living leave.

Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief,
In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire

Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.
With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part:
Of woeful ages long ago betid;

Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart. [They kiss.
And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief, Queen. Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part,
Tell thou the lamentable tale of me,

To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart.
And send the hearers weeping to their beds.

[They kiss again.
For why, the senseless brands will sympathize So, now I have mine own again, begone,
The heavy accent of thy moving tongue,

That I may strive to kill it with a groan.
And in compassion weep the fire out;

K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay:
And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black, Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. (Exeunt.
For the deposing of a rightful king.
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, attended.

SCENE II.- The Same. A Room in the Duke

of York's Palace.
North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is chang'd:
You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.-

Enter York, and the Duchess.
And, madam, there is order ta'en for you :

Duch. My lord, you told me, you would tell the rest,

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