London. A Street leading to the Tower. Enter Queen, and Ladies. Queen. This way the King will come; this is the way To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower, Enter King RICHARD, and guards. But soft, but see, or rather do not see, ^ When triumph is become an alchouse guest? not so, To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul, . To grim necessity; and he and I Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, Queen. What is my Richard both in shape and mind Transform'd, and weakened? 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 I had been still a happy King of men. Think, I am dead; and that even here thou tak'st, With good old folks; and let them tell thee tales And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief, 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. - The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,- And he shall think, that thou, which know'st the way To plant unrightful Kings, wilt know again, To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne, 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; My wife to France; from whence, set forth in pomp, and K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, 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, thiter let me go, K. Rich. So two, together weeping, make one woe. Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; Better far off, than near, be ne'er the near'. 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 eart. [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, delay: Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The same. 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 Duch. At that sad stop, my Lord, Where rude misgoyern'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, Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,— You would have thought the very window spake, York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, |