[Exit raving.
Fool. Farewell to you both, for I must after him that’s such an eager spendthrift of his curses, and may each of you come upon a kingdom to your mind—when the sun shall smite in January.
[Exit Fool.
King Henry. A more than common grief look’d from his eye
That roll’d so wildly in his head; pray God
We keep our wits, whatever else be lost
To us.
King Richard. And I might see proud Bolingbroke
In such a case as his that parted now,
I deem that I could die full willingly.