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
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 men converts to fear;
That fear to hate; and hate turns one or both
To worthy danger and deserved death.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
My guilt be on my head, and there an end.
Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith.
KING RICHARD.
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;
And yet not so, for with a kiss ‘twas made.
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 Hallowmas or short’st of day.
QUEEN.
And must we be divided? Must we part?
KING RICHARD.
Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart.
QUEEN.
Banish us both, and send the king with me.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
That were some love, but little policy.
QUEEN.
Then whither he goes, thither let me go.
KING RICHARD.
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.
KING RICHARD.
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 take I thy heart.
[They kiss.]
QUEEN.
Give me mine own again; ‘twere no good part
To take on me to keep and kill thy heart.
[They kiss again.]
So, now I have mine own again, be gone.
That I may strive to kill it with a groan.
KING RICHARD.
We make woe wanton with this fond delay:
Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. The same. A roomin the DUKE OF YORK’s palace.
[Enter YORK and his DUCHESS.]
DUCHESS.
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?
DUCHESS.
At that sad stop, my lord,
Where rude misgoverned 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,
With slow but stately pace kept on his course,
Whilst 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 imagery had said at once
‘Jesu preserve thee! Welcome, Bolingbroke!’
Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning,
Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed’s neck,
Bespake them thus, ‘I thank you, countrymen:’
And thus still doing, thus he pass’d along.
DUCHESS.
Alack, poor Richard! where rode he the whilst?
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 God, 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 allow.
DUCHESS.
Here comes my son Aumerle.
YORK.
Aumerle that was;
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.
[Enter AUMERLE.]
DUCHESS.