Thou map of honour, thou King Richard's tomb,
And not King Richard; thou most beauteous Inn,
Why fhould hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee,
When Triumph is become an ale-house Guest?

K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair Woman, do not fo,
To make my End too fudden. Learn, good foul,
To think our former ftate a happy dream,

From which awak'd, the truth of what we are
Shews us but this. I am fworn brother, Sweet,
To grim Neceffity; and he and I

Will keep a league till death. Hye thee to France,
And cloister thee in fome Religious Houfe;
Our holy lives must win a new world's Crown,
Which our profane hours here have ftricken down.
Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and mind
Transform'd and weak? hath Bolingbroke depos'd
Thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart?
The Lion, dying, thrufteth forth his paw,
And wounds the earth, if nothing elfe, with rage
To be o'erpower'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like,
Take thy correction mildly, kifs the rod,
And fawn on rage with bafe humility,
Which art a Lion and a King of beasts?

K. Rich. A King of beafts, indeed-if aught but beafts,

I had been still a happy King of men.

Good fometime Queen, prepare thee hence for France; Think, I am dead; and that ev'n here thou tak'ft,

Thou who appeareft as the ground on which the magnificence of Troy was once erected, fhe fays,

O thou, the model, &c. Thou map of honour. Thou picture of greatness.

Join not with grief,] Do not thou unite with grief againft me; do not, by thy additional forrows, enable grief to ftrike

me down at once. My own part of forrow I can hear, but thy affliction will immediately deftroy me.

-I am forn brother, To grim neceffity;-) I have reconciled myfelf to neceffity, I am in a ftate of amity with the constraint which I have fuftained.

As from my death-bed, my last living Leave.
In winter's tedious nights fit 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,
Tell thou the lamentable Fall of me,

And fend the hearers weeping to their beds.
For why the fenfelefs brands will fympathize
The heavy accent of thy moving tongue,
And in compaffion weep the fire out;
And fome will mourn in afhes, fome coal-black,
For the depofing 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, Madam, there is order ta'en for you,
With all fwift-fpeed, you muft away to France.

K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder wherewitha!
The mounting Bolingbroke afcends my Throne,
The time fhall not be many hours of age
More than it is, ere foul fin, gath'ring 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 fhall think, that thou, which know'ft the way
To plant unrightful Kings, wilt know again,
Being ne'er fo little urg'd, another way

To pluck him headlong from th' ufurped Throne.
The love of wicked friends converts to fear;
That fear to hate; and hate turns one, or both,

2 to quit their grief] To retaliate their mournful ftories. 3 For achy? ] The poet fhould have ended this

fpeech with the foregoing line, and have spared his childish prattle about the fire.

To

To worthy danger, and deferved death.

North. My guilt be on my head, and there's an end. -Take leave and part, for you must part forthwith. K. Rich. Doubly divorc'd? Bad men, ye violate A two-fold marriage; 'twixt my crown and me; And then betwixt me and my married wife. Let me unkifs the oath 'twixt thee and me.

[To the Queen. -And yet not fo, for with a kifs 'twas made. Part us, Northumberland. I, towards the North, Where fhiv'ring cold and fickness pines the clime; My Queen to France, from whence, fet forth in pomp, She came adorned hither like fweet May;

Sent back like Hollorumas, or fhortest day.

Queen. And muft we be divided? muft we part? K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my Love, and heart from heart.

Queen. Banish us both, and fend the King with me.
North. That were fome Love, but little Policy.
Queen. Then whither he goes, thither 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 fighs, I mine with groans:
Queen. So longest way fhall have the longest moans.
K. Rich. Twice for one ftep I'll groan, the way be-
ing fhort,

And piece the way out with a heavy heart.
Come, come, in wooing forrow let's be brief;
Since, wedding it, there is fuch length in grief.
One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part;
Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart. [They kiss.

2 Better far off, than near, be

ne'er the near,] To be never the nigher, or as it is commonly spoken in the mid land.

counties, ne'er the ne'er, is, to make no advance towards the good defired.

G 4

Queen.

1

Queen. Give me mine own again; 'twere no good

part,

To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart. [Kifs again.
So, now I have mine own again, be gone,

That I may ftrive to kill it with a groan.

K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay: Once more, adieu; the reft let forrow fay. [Exeunt

Dutch.

SCENE IN.

The Duke of YORK's Palace,

Enter York, and his Dutchess.

Y lord, you told me, you would tell the rest,

MY

When Weeping made you break the ftory off,
Of our two Coufins coming into London,
York. Where did I leave?

Dutch. At that fad ftop, my lord,

Where rude mif-govern'd hands, from window-tops,
Threw duft and rubbish on King Richard's head.
York. Then, as I faid, the Duke, great Bolingbroke,
Mounted upon a hot and fiery fteed,

Which his afpiring Rider feem'd to know,
With flow, but ftately pace, kept on his courfe;
While all tongues cry'd, God fave thee, Bolingbroke!
You wou'd have thought, the very windows fpake,
So many greedy looks of young and old

Through cafements darted their defiring eyes
Upon his vifage; and that all the walls
With painted imag'ry had faid at once,
Jefu, preferve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!
Whilft he, from one fide to the other turning,
Bare-headed, lower than his proud fteed's neck,
Bespoke them thus; I thank you, Countrymen;
And thus ftill doing, thus he past along.

Dutch

Dutch. Alas! poor Richard, where rides he the while? 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 fo, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
Did fcowl on Richard; no man cry'd, God fave him;
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home;
But duft was thrown upon his facred head;
Which with fuch gentle forrow he fhook off,
His face ftill combating with tears and fmiles,
The badges of his grief and patience;

That had not God, for fome ftrong purpose, steel'd
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted;
And barbarifm itself have pitied him.

But heav'n hath a hand in thefe events,
To whofe high will we bound our calm contents.
To Bolingbroke are we fworn Subjects now,
Whofe State, and Honour, I for aye allow.

Dutch. Here comes my fon Aumerle.
York. Aumerle that was,

But that is loft, for being Richard's Friend.
And, madam, you muft call him Rutland now.
I am in parliament pledge for his truth,
And lafting fealty to the new-made King.

Dutch. Welcome, my fon; who are the Violets now
That ftrew the green lap of the new-come spring?
Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care:
God knows, I had as lief be none, as one.

*

York. Well, bear you well in this new Spring of time, Left you be cropt before you come to Prime.

5 Are idly bent] That is, carelefly turned, thrown withput attention. This the poet learned by his attendance and

practice on the ftage.

- bear you well] That is, conduct yourself with prudence.