And these same thoughts people this little world ;49 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: 50

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; 51
And, for they cannot,52 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,
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,
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.] Music do I hear?
Ha, ha! keep time :-how sour sweet music is,

49. This little world. Meaning himself, his own person; and since he peoples himself with many persons, or represents in his own person many people, he renders the prison populous like the world, which he began his speech by saying he should endeavour to do. By proving his own inner world to be peopled by thoughts, he proves the prison that contains himself to be like the populous outer world. Shakespeare elsewhere uses the expression "this little world" for human identity, individual self.

50. The word itself against the word. The Folio prints 'faith' in both instances here, instead of "word;" which is the reading of the Quartos, and means 'Holy Writ.'

51. My ragged prison-walls. See Note 33, Act iii. 52. For they cannot. 'Because they cannot

53. They jar their watches on. They note the time onward, as by the jarring or ticking of a pendulum.' See Note 21, Act i., "Winter's Tale."

་

54. The outward watch. The face of the dial,' 'the dialplate.'

55. Now, sir. This was a form used in soliloquy, when the speaker is, as it were, addressing an imaginary auditor. It occurs in Launce's speech respecting his family leave-taking ("Two Gentlemen of Verona," Act ii., sc. 3):-"Now, sir, this staff is my sister;" and he also says, in the course of his same speech (he being alone)-"My grandam, having no eyes, look you;" and "I'll show you the manner of it ;" and "Look you, she is as white as a wand."

56. The sounds that tell what hour, &c. The old copies print 'sound' and 'tels,' instead of "sounds" and "tell," here

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 53 unto mine eyes, the outward watch,

54

Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,

Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
Now, sir, the sounds that tell what hour it is,50
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,57
This music mads me; let it sound no more;
For though it have holp madmen to their wits,93
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 59 in this all-hating world.

Enter Groom.

Groom. Hail, royal prince!

K. Rich. Thanks, noble peer; 60 The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear, 61 What art thou? and how com'st thou hither, Where no man ever comes, but that sad dog 62 That brings me food to make misfortune live?

Ritson suggested the correction, which the context shows to be right.

57. Jack o' the clock. An automaton figure appended to ancient clocks, made so as to strike the hour.

58. Though it have holp madmen to their wits. "Holp" is an old form of 'helped. The power of music in soothing fits of melancholy madness, and in calming insanity generally, has been a favourite theory with many, even from periods of remote antiquity.

59. A strange brooch. "Brooch" is here and elsewhere used by Shakespeare to express an 'ornament' or 'precious article' generally; and " strange " is here used in the sense of 'rare,' 'choice,' 'unwonted.'

60. Thanks, noble peer. A retort made in the same spirit of playfulness as the one pointed out in Note 115, Act ii., “Merchant of Venice."

61. Ten groats too dear. The king plays upon the words "royal" and "noble," which were names of coins formerly current. A "royal" was worth ten shillings, and a "noble" was worth six shillings and eightpence; therefore "ten groats" (the groat being worth fourpence) is the difference between the value of the two coins. By "the cheapest of us" the king bitterly means himself; for, while the groom has no claim to be called "noble," save by nobility of nature, Richard has utterly lost all claim to be called "royal."

62. That sad dog. "Sad" was often used for 'grave,' 'sedate,' 'serious' (see Note 51, Act ii., “Merchant of Venice"); and here it seems to mean 'austere,' 'gloomy-looking.'

Groom. So proudly as if he disdain'd the ground. K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back!66

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.

Enter Keeper, with a dish.

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

K. 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, will 't please you to fall to? K. Rich. Taste of it first,68 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!

63. My sometimes royal master's face. "Sometimes" was occasionally used for 'previously,' 'formerly,' 'at one time' (see Note 30, Act i., "Merchant of Venice"); and "sometimes" or 'sometime' were employed indifferently, the one for the other, 64. Yearn'd. 'Grieved,' 'pained.' The verb is now generally used as a neuter verb; here it is used actively.

65. Rode on roan Barbary! Exquisitely natural is this touch of the groom's chiefly noticing the horse in this sad sight.

66. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back! There is an anecdote related by Froissart, of a favourite greyhound that belonged to King Richard, and would fawn upon him and upon no man else; but that once, "as the king and the Erle of Derby talked tegyder in the courte, the grayhounde, who was wont to lepe upon the kyng, left the kyng and came to the Erle of Derby, Duke of Lancastre, and made to him the same friendly countenance and chere as he was wonte to do to the kyng." It is recorded that this conduct of the dog struck Richard keenly;

Enter Sir PIERCE of EXTON and Servants, armed. K. Rich. How now! what means death in this rude assault ?

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

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

[He kills another Servant. 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.

Exton. As full of valour as of royal blood : Both have I spilt; -Oh, 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. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-WINDSOR. A Room in the Castle. Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE as King, YORK, Lords, and Attendants.

Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we

hear

Is that the rebels have consum'd with fire
Our town of Cicester 69 in Glostershire;
But whether they be ta'en or slain we hear not.
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND.
Welcome, my lord: what is the news?

and it is most probable that Shakespeare had met with this story in the old chronicler's pages, and turned it to dramatic account (poeticised by his own version of the incident) in the present scene of this pathetic drama.

67. Jauncing. 'Hard-riding,' 'rough-riding;' from the old French word jancer, which Cotgrave explains, "To stir a horse in the stable till he sweat withal." The word "jaunting," which meant to move to and fro fatiguingly, is derived from the same source: although, in modern use, it means rather going on an excursion of pleasure, taking out-door recreation. The epithet "jauncing," as applied to Bolingbroke, besides its strict interpretation, includes the effect of airy and voluntary movement, as well as harsh control of his steed.

68. Taste of it first. See Note 51, Act v., "King John." 69 Cicester. An old form of 'Cirencester;' which is still pronounced 'Cice'ter,' a contraction very nearly like the old form of the word.

So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife:
For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,
High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.

Enter Sir PIERCE of EXTON, with Attendants bearing a coffin.

Exton. Great king, within this coffin I present
Thy buried fear:73 herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought.
Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast
wrought

A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand,
Upon my head and all this famous land.

Boling. They love not poison that do poison need,

Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead,
I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word nor princely favour:
With Cain go wander through the shade of night,
And never show thy head by day nor light.—
Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe,
That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow:
Come, mourn with me for that I do lament,
And put on sullen black incontinent ;74
I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,
To wash this blood off from my guilty hand :-
March sadly after; grace my mournings here,
In weeping after this untimely bier. [Excunt.

Act iv.) was freed from his imprisonment in the Tower; but he never obtained preferment, was appointed to a rectory in Gloucestershire, and died in 1409.

73. Within this coffin I present thy buried fear. This embodiment of Bolingbroke's "fear," as "buried" in the as yet unburied corpse of the king, is one of those bold images that great poets delight in.

74. Incontinent. For 'incontinently,' in the sense of 'immediately,' without delay. Sec Nete 11, Act v., "As You Like It."