• London. A street leading to the Tower.
    Enter QUEEN and Ladies.

    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:
    5Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth
    Have any resting for her true king’s queen.
    Enter KING RICHARD II 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,
    10And 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 lodged in thee,
    15When triumph is become an alehouse guest?

    KING RICHARD II

    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 awaked, the truth of what we are
    20Shows 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,
    25Which our profane hours here have stricken down.
  • London. A street leading to the Tower of London.
    The QUEEN and ladies enter.

    QUEEN

    The king will come this way as he is taken to the tower, where proud Bolingbroke condemned him to be held a prisoner. Let’s rest here, if there is anywhere on this rebellious earth where I can rest.
    KING RICHARD II and guards enter.
    But wait, but look, or rather don’t look or you will wither. No, but look up, and let pity wash over you and your tears of love bathe him. Ah, you, fallen in greatness like Troy, the epitome of honor. You look like a shell of King Richard and not King Richard himself. Oh, why should grief live in you, who are so honorable and royal, while triumph lives within Bolingbroke, a commoner?

    Troy

    The city besieged and destroyed by the Greeks in the Trojan War.

    KING RICHARD II

    Fair lady, don’t grieve as if I were already dead. Think of our past as a happy dream and that we have simply awoken to reality. I’ve had to bow to necessity, and I’ll stay that way until I die. Go quickly to France and join a convent. Our only hope is to become holy and be crowned in heaven, since our lives here have ended in such ruin.