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I have a king here to my flatterer.

Being so great, I have no need to beg.

BOLINGBROKE.

Yet ask.

KING RICHARD.

And shall I have?

BOLINGBROKE.

You shall.

KING RICHARD.

Then give me leave to go.

BOLINGBROKE.

Whither?

KING RICHARD.

Whither you will, so I were from your sights.

BOLINGBROKE.

Go, some of you convey him to the Tower.

KING RICHARD.

O, good! Convey! Conveyers are you all,

That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.

Exeunt KING RICHARD, some Lords and a Guard

BOLINGBROKE.

On Wednesday next we solemnly set down

Our coronation. Lords, prepare yourselves.

Exeunt all but the ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER, the

BISHOP OF CARLISLE, and AUMERLE

ABBOT.

A woeful pageant have we here beheld.

CARLISLE.

The woe's to come; the children yet unborn

Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.

AUMERLE.

You holy clergymen, is there no plot

To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?

ABBOT.

My lord,

Before I freely speak my mind herein,

You shall not only take the sacrament

To bury mine intents, but also to effect

Whatever I shall happen to devise.

I see your brows are full of discontent,

Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears.

Come home with me to supper; I will lay

A plot shall show us all a merry day. Exeunt

ACT V. SCENE 1. London. A street leading to the Tower

Enter the QUEEN, with her attendants

QUEEN. This way the King will come; this is the way

To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower,

To whose flint bosom 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 Guard

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.

Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand;

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,

When triumph is become an alehouse guest?

KING RICHARD.

Join not with grief, 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

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 thrown down.

QUEEN.

What, is my Richard both in shape and mind

Transform'd and weak'ned? 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'erpow'r'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like,

Take the correction mildly, kiss the rod,

And fawn on rage with base humility,

Which art a lion and the king of beasts?

KING RICHARD.

A king of beasts, indeed! If aught but beasts,

I had been still a happy king of men.

Good sometimes queen, prepare thee hence for France.

Think I am dead, and that even here thou takest,

As from my death-bed, thy 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 griefs

Tell thou the lamentable tale 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

NORTHUMBERLAND.

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.

KING RICHARD.

Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal

The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,

The time shall not be many hours of age