_Gard._ They are; and Bolingbroke[1522] Hath seized the wasteful king. O, what pity is it[1522][1523] 55 That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land[1522][1524] As we this garden! We at time of year[1522][1525] Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees,[1525] Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood, With too much riches it confound itself: 60 Had he done so to great and growing men, They might have lived to bear and he to taste Their fruits of duty: superfluous branches[1526] We lop away, that bearing boughs may live:[1527] Had he done so, himself had borne the crown, 65 Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down.[1528] _Serv._ What, think you then the king shall be deposed?[1529] _Gard._ Depress'd he is already, and deposed 'Tis doubt he will be: letters came last night[1530][1531] To a dear friend of the good Duke of York's,[1530][1532] 70 That tell black tidings.[1533] _Queen._ O, I am press'd to death through want of speaking![1533][1534] [_Coming forward._ Thou, old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden,[1533][1535] How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news?[1533][1536] What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested thee 75 To make a second fall of cursed man? Why dost thou say King Richard is deposed? Darest thou, thou little better thing than earth, Divine his downfal? Say, where, when, and how, Camest thou by this ill tidings? speak, thou wretch.[1537] 80 _Gard._ Pardon me, madam: little joy have I To breathe this news; yet what I say is true.[1538] King Richard, he is in the mighty hold Of Bolingbroke: their fortunes both are weigh'd: In your lord's scale is nothing but himself,[1539] 85 And some few vanities that make him light; But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, Besides himself, are all the English peers, And with that odds he weighs King Richard down. Post you to London, and you will find it so;[1540] 90 I speak no more than every one doth know. _Queen._ Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot, Doth not thy embassage belong to me, And am I last that knows it? O, thou think'st[1541] To serve me last, that I may longest keep 95 Thy sorrow in my breast. Come, ladies, go,[1542] To meet at London London's king in woe. What, was I born to this, that my sad look Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke? Gardener, for telling me these news of woe,[1543] 100 Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow. [_Exeunt Queen and Ladies._[1544]