My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is changed

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.

The love of wicked men converts to fear,
That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both
To worthy danger and deservèd death.

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.
He shall think that thou, which knowest 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 deservèd 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 marriage—twixt my crown and me,
And then betwixt me and my married wife.
 To Queen. Let me unkiss the oath twixt thee and me;
And yet not so, for with a kiss ’twas made.—
Part us, Northumberland, I towards the north,
Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime;
My wife to France, from whence set forth in pomp
She came adornèd hither like sweet May,
Sent back like Hallowmas or short’st of day.