This way the King will come. This is the way

5.1.22262To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower,

5.1.32263To whose flint bosom my condemnèd lord

5.1.42264Is doomed a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke.

5.1.52265Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth

5.1.62266Have any resting for her true king's queen.

5.1.72268But soft, but see, or rather do not see

5.1.82269My fair rose wither. Yet look up, behold,

5.1.92270That you in pity may dissolve to dew

5.1.102271And wash him fresh again with true-love tears. --

5.1.112272Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand,

5.1.122273Thou map of honor, thou King Richard's tomb,

5.1.132274And not King Richard! Thou most beauteous inn,

5.1.142275Why should hard-favored grief be lodged in thee

5.1.152276When triumph is become an alehouse guest?

Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,

5.1.172278To make my end too sudden. Learn, good soul,

5.1.182279To think our former state a happy dream,

5.1.192280From which awaked, the truth of what we are

5.1.202281Shows us but this. I am sworn brother, sweet,

5.1.212282To grim Necessity, and he and I

5.1.222283Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France

5.1.232284And cloister thee in some religious house.

5.1.242285Our holy lives must win a new world's crown,

5.1.252286Which our profane hours here have thrown down.

What, is my Richard both in shape and mind

5.1.272288Transformed and weakened? Hath Bolingbroke

5.1.282289Deposed thine intellect? Hath he been in thy heart?

5.1.292290The lion dying thrusteth forth his paw

5.1.302291And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage

5.1.312292To be o'er-powered; and wilt thou, pupil-like,

5.1.322293Take the correction, mildly kiss the rod,

5.1.332294And fawn on rage with base humility,

5.1.342295Which art a lion and the king of beasts?

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

5.1.362297I had been still a happy king of men.

5.1.372298Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France.

5.1.382299Think I am dead, and that even here thou tak'st,

5.1.392300As from my deathbed, thy last living leave.

5.1.402301In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire

5.1.412302With good old folks, and let them tell the tales

5.1.422303Of woeful ages long ago betid;

5.1.432304And ere thou bid good night, to quite their griefs,

5.1.442305Tell thou the lamentable tale of me,

5.1.452306And send the hearers weeping to their beds.

5.1.462307For why the senseless brands will sympathize

5.1.472308The heavy accent of thy moving tongue,

5.1.482309And in compassion weep the fire out,

5.1.492310And some will mourn in ashes, some coal black,

2311For the deposing of a rightful king.

My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is changed.

5.1.512314You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower. --

5.1.522315And, madam, there is order ta'en for you:

5.1.532316With all swift speed you must away to France.

Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal

5.1.552318The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,

5.1.562319The time shall not be many hours of age

5.1.572320More than it is ere foul sin, gathering head,

5.1.582321Shall break into corruption. Thou shalt think,

5.1.592322Though he divide the realm and give thee half,

5.1.602323It is too little, helping him to all.

5.1.612324He shall think that thou, which knowest the way

5.1.622325To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,

5.1.632326Being ne'er so little urged another way,

5.1.642327To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne.

5.1.652328The love of wicked men converts to fear,

5.1.662329That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both

5.1.672330To worthy danger and deservèd death.

My guilt be on my head, and there an end.

5.1.692332Take leave and part, for you must part forthwith.

Doubly divorced! Bad men, you violate

5.1.712334A twofold marriage, 'twixt my crown and me,

5.1.722335And then betwixt me and my married wife. --

5.1.732336[To Queen] Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me;

5.1.742337And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made. --

5.1.752338Part us, Northumberland, I towards the north,

5.1.762339Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime;

5.1.772340My wife to France, from whence set forth in pomp

5.1.782341She came adornèd hither like sweet May,

5.1.792342Sent back like Hallowmas or short'st of day.

And must we be divided? Must we part?

Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart.

[To Northumberland] Banish us both, and send the King with me.

That were some love, but little policy.

Then whither he goes, thither let me go.

So, two, together weeping, make one woe.

5.1.862349Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here.

5.1.872350Better far off than, near, be ne'er the near.

5.1.882351Go, count thy way with sighs; I mine with groans.

So longest way shall have the longest moans.

Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short,

5.1.912354And piece the way out with a heavy heart.

5.1.922355Come, come, in wooing Sorrow let's be brief,

5.1.932356Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.

5.1.942357One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part.

5.1.952358Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart.

Give me mine own again. 'Twere no good part

5.1.972360To take on me to keep and kill thy heart.

5.1.982361So, now I have mine own again, be gone,

5.1.992362That I may strive to kill it with a groan.

We make woe wanton with this fond delay.

2364Once more, adieu! The rest let sorrow say.