SCENE V.-Pomfret.

The Dungeon of the Castle.


K. Rich. I have been studying how to compare a
This prison, where I live, unto the world :
And, for because the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it;—yet I'll hammer it out.
My brain I 'll prove the female to my soul ;
My soul, the father: and these two beget
A generation of still-breeding thoughts,
And these same thoughts people this little world ; 1
In humours like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented. The better sort,-
As thoughts of things divine,--are intermix'd
With scruples, and do set the faith itself
Against the faith:
As thus,--Come, little ones; and then again ---
It is as hard to come, as for a camel
To thread the postern of a needle's eye.
Thoughts tending to ambition they do plot
Unlikely wonders : how these vain weak nails
May tear a passage through the flinty ribs
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls;
And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves
That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,
Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars,

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a So the folio. Modern editions, how I may compare.

b This little world. “ The little world of man, as in “Lear.' Shakspere here uses the philosophy which is thus described by Raleigh :—“. Because in the little frame of man's body there is a representation of the universal, and (by allusion) a kind of participation of all the parts there, therefore was man called microcosmos, or the little world.”—“ History of the World.')

c So the folio. The quarto of 1597 reads--" The word itself against the word;" which is, perhaps, better taken singly. But in the third scene of this act the duchess uses precisely the same expression; and the sense of the word there being altogether different, the change was, we think, judicious. Modern editors have, however, rejected the reading which we adopt.

Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame,
That many have, and others must sit there :
And in this thought they find a kind of ease,
Bearing their own misfortunes on the back
Of such as have before endur'd the like.
Thus play I, in one person, many people,
And none contented: Sometimes am I king;
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am : Then crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king;
Then am I king’d again: and by-and-by,
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing :-But, whate'er I am,
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,
With nothing shall be pleas'd till he be eas'd
With being nothing. Music do I hear?

Ha, ha! keep time:—How sour sweet music is,
When time is broke, and no proportion kept!
So is it in the music of men's lives.
And here have I the daintiness of ear,
To check time broke in a disorder'd string;
But, for the concord of my state and time,
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.
For now hath time made me his numb’ring clock:
My thoughts are minutes; and, with sighs, they jar
Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.a
Now, sir, the sounds that tell what hour it is
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart,

a It is somewhat difficult to follow this reading. Richard says Time has made him a numbering clock. A clock and a watch were formerly the same instruments; a clock so called because it clicketh a watch so called because it marks the watches, the ancient divisions of the day. Comparing, then, himself to such an instrument, he says, his thoughts jar—that is, tick their watches on (unto) his eyes, which are the outward part of the instrument--the dial-plate on which the hours are numbered,—whereto his finger, the dial's point, is pointing. These analogies may appear forced, and somewhat obscure ; but it must be observed that, throughout the character of Richard, the poet has made him indulge in those freaks of the imagination which belong to weakness of character. (See Supplementary Notice.)

Which is the bell : So sighs, and tears, and groans,
Show minutes, times, and hours :--but my time
Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy,
While I stand fooling here, his Jack o' the clock.a
This music mads me, let it sound no more ;
For, though it have holpe madmen to their wits,
In me it seems it will make wise men mad.
Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me!
For 't is a sign of love; and love to Richard
Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.

Enter Groom.

Groom. Hail, royal prince!
K. Rich.

Thanks, noble peer ;
The chcapest of us is ten groats too dear.*
What art thou ? and how comest thou hither,
Where no man ever comes, but that sad dog e
That brings me food, to make misfortune live?

Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king,
When thou wert king; who, travelling towards York,
With much ado, at length have gotten leave
To look upon my sometimes royal master's face.
O, how it yearn’d my heart, when I beheld,
In London streets that coronation day,
When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary !
That horse that thou so often hast bestrid;
That horse that I so carefully have dress'd!

K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend, How went he under him?

Groom. So proudly as if he had disdain’d the ground. K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back! That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;

a Jack o' the clock. An automaton, such as formerly constituted one of the wonders of London before St. Dunstan's Church in Fleet Street; but which the ruthless hand of improvement has now swept away.

b A strange brooch. The brooch, a valuable ornament, was, it seems, out of fashion in Shakspere's time. In 'All's Well that Ends Well’we have “the brooch and the toothpick, which wear not now.” Love to Richard is, therefore, called a strange brooch, a thing of value out of fashion.

c Sad dog. Sad is here used in the sense of grave, gloomy.

This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.
Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down,
(Since pride must have a fall,) and break the neck
Of that proud man that did usurp his back?
Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee,
Since thou, created to be aw'd by man,
Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse;

I bear a burthen like an ass,
Spur-galld, and tir’d, by jauncing a Bolingbroke.

Enter Keeper, with a dish.
Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay.

[To the Groom. K. Rich. If thou love me 't is time thou wert away. Groom. What my tongue dares not that my heart shall say.

Exit. Keep. My lord, will’t please you to fall to ? K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do.

Keep. My lord, I dare not; Sir Pierce of Exton, who Lately came from the king, commands the contrary.

K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and thee! Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. [Beats the Keeper.

Keep. Help, help, help!

Enter Exton, and Servants, armed. K. Rich. How now ? what means death in this rude as

sault? Villain, thine own hand yields thy death's instrument.

[Snatching a weapon, and killing one. Go thou, and fill another room in hell.

He kills another, then Exton strikes him down. That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, That staggers thus my person.—Exton, thy fierce hand Hath with the king's blood stain’d the king's own land. Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high; Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die. [Dies.

a а

Jauncing. Richard compares himself to a spur-galled beast that Bolingbroke rides.—Jauncing—jaunting—hurriedly moving Bolingbroke. It is possible, how

that it may be a contraction of joyauncing.


Exton. As full of valour as of royal blood :
Both have I spilt; 0, would the deed were good !
For now the devil, that told me I did well,
Says that this deed is chronicled in hell.
This dead king to the living king I 'll bear.
Take hence the rest, and give them burial here.


SCENE VI.--Windsor.

A Room in the Castle.

Flourish. Enter BOLING BROKE and YORK, with Lords and

Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear
Is, that the rebels have consum'd with fire
Our town of Cicester in Glostershire;
But whether they be ta’en, or slain, we hear not.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND. Welcome, my lord: what is the news?

North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness. The next news is,—I have to London sent The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent: The manner of their taking may appear At large discoursed in this paper here. [Presenting a paper.

Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains;
And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.

Fitz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London
The heads of Brocas, and sir Bennet Seely ;
Two of the dangerous consorted traitors
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.

Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot;
Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.

Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of Westminster,
With clog of conscience and sour melancholy,
Hath yielded up his body to the

But here is Carlisle living, to abide
Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride.


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