SCENE V.

Pomfret. The Dungeon of the Castle.

Enter King RICHARD.

Rich. I have been studying how I may compare

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't 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;
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 word itself

Against the word:

1

As thus, -"Come, little ones;

" and then again,

"It is as hard to come, as for a camel

To thread the postern of a small 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,
Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame,

1 So in all the quartos: the folio has faith for word. Of course the word means Holy Writ. And three lines after, the folio omits small before needle's eye, which is the reading of all the quartos, See A Midsummer-Night's Dream, Act iii. sc. 2, note 16.

H.

That many have, and others must sit there:
And in this thought they find a kind of ease,
Bearing their own misfortune on the back
Of such as have before endur'd the like.
Thus play I, in one person, many people,2
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?

[Music.

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 numbering 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.*

"This is the reading of the first quarto, alluding, perhaps, to the custom of our early theatres. The title-pages of some of our Moralities show that three or four characters were frequently represented by one person. All the other old copies read" in one prison."

3 So in all the quartos; in the folio hear.

H.

4 There are three ways in which a clock notices the progress of time, viz., by the swinging of the pendulum, the index on the dial, and the striking of the hour. To these the king severally

Now, sir, the sound, that tells what hour it is,
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart,
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.
This music mads me: let it sound no more;
For, though it hath 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 'tis a sign of love, and love to Richard
Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.
Enter Groom.

Groom. Hail, royal prince!

Thanks, noble peer;"

Rich.
The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
What art thou? and how comest thou hither,
Where no man never comes, but that sad dog
That brings me food to make misfortune live?

alludes; his sighs corresponding to the jarring or ticking of the pendulum, which, at the same time that it watches or numbers the seconds, marks also their progress in minutes on the dial-plate, or outward watch, to which the king compares his eyes; and the want of figures is supplied by a succession of tears, and his finger, by as regularly wiping these away, performs the office of the dial's point: his clamorous groans are the sounds that tell the hour.

5 In Shakespeare's time clocks had miniature automatons to strike the hour. This Jack of the clock, as it was called, is often referred to by the old writers.

H.

6 Brooch, an ornamented buckle, and also a jewel in general, here figuratively used for ornament.

7 The humour of the royal sufferer, as shown in this sprightly retort, is very gentle and graceful. See The Merchant of Venice, Act ii. sc. 9, note 7. Boswell thinks there is some allusion intended to the pieces of coin called royal and noble. In this passage with the Groom there is enough to prove that Bolingbroke has not "depos'd his intellect:" if his mind be too much framed and filled with moral and sentimental embroidery, here are such flashes of manhood as secure him both our sympathy and our respect. H.

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 yern'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!

Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend,

How went he under him?

Groom. So proudly, as if he disdain'd the ground. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back! That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; 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; And yet I bear a burden like an ass,

Spur-gall'd, and tir'd, by jauncing Bolingbroke.

8 This delightful stroke of art is altogether original with the Poet. Froissart, however, has a story, which Shakespeare may have seen in Lord Berner's translation, about a favourite greyhound of Richard's, "who was wont to leape upon the king, but left the king and came to the erle of Derby, duke of Lancastre, and made to him the same frendly countenance and chere as he was wont to do to the king.' Steevens, referring to the passage of Roan Barbary, calls that of the greyhound a yet more silly tale. O, thou pleniloquent George! spare us thy scorn.

H.

9 Jauncing is hard riding, from the old French word jancer, which Cotgrave explains "To stir a horse in the stable till he sweat withal."

Enter Keeper, with a Dish.

Keep. [To the Groom.] Fellow, give place: here is no longer stay.

Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away. Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say.

[Exit. Keep. My lord, wil't please you to fall to? 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.

Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and

thee!

7

Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. [Beats him. Keep. Help, help, help!

Enter EXTON, and Servants, armed.

Rich. How now! what means death in this rude assault?

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.

hand

Exton, thy fierce

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.

Ext. As full of valour as of royal blood: Both have I spilt! O, 'would the deed were good!