Shows us but this. I am sworn brother, sweet, To grim Necessity, and he and I 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 Transformed and weakened! Hath Bolingbroke Deposed 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’erpowered; 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 tak’st, 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,

 NORTHUMBERLAND. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is changed. 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 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 knowst the way To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, Being ne’er so little urged, 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 divorced! Bad men, you violate A twofold 

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