Against the word; 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 thefe vain weak nails May tear a paffage through the flinty ribs Of this hard world, my ragged prifon-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 flaves, And shall not be the last; like filly beggars, Who, fitting in the Stocks, refuge their fhame That many have, and others must fit there; And, in this thought, they find a kind of ease; Bearing their own misfortune on the back Of fuch as have before endur'd the like. Thus play I, in one prifon, many people, And none contented. Sometimes am I King; Then treafon makes me wifh myself a beggar, And fo I am. Then crushing penury Perfuades 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 what-e'er I am, Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, With nothing fhall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd With being nothing.-Mufick do I hear? [Mufick! Ha, ha; keep time: how fow'r fweet mufick is, When time is broke, and no proportion kept? So is it in the mufick of mens' lives; And here have I the daintinefs of ear, To check time broke in a disorder'd string; But for the concord of my state and time, Had t an ear to hear my true time broke. I wafted time, and now doth time waste me, For now hath time made me his numbring clock,

My thoughts are minutes; and' with fighs they jar,
Their watches to mine eyes the outward watch;
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,

Is pointing ftill, in cleanfing them from tears.
Now, Sir, the founds, that tell what hour it is,
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell; fo fighs, and tears, and groans,
Shew minutes, hours, and times. O, but my time
Runs pofting on, in Bolingbroke's proud joy,
While I ftand fooling here, his jack o'th'clock.
This mufick mads me, let it found no more;
For though it have help'd mad men to their wits,
In me, it seems, it will make wife men mad.
Yet bleffing on his heart, that gives it me!
For 'tis a fign of love; and love to Richard
Is a ftrange brooch, in this all-hating world.

with fighs they jar,

Their swatches, &c.] I think this expreffion must be corrupt, but I know not well how to make it better. The firft. quarto reads,

My thoughts are minutes; and
with fighs they jar,
There watches to mine eyes the
outward watch.

The fecond quarto:

double fenfe, for a quantity of time, and for the inflrument that measures time. I read, but with no great confidence, thus:

My thoughts are minutes, and
with fighs they jar,
Their watches on;
outward watch,

Whereto, &c.

2

mine eyes

the

in this ALL-HATING world.] We should read

My thoughts are minutes, and FALL-HATING, i. e. Love to

with fighs they jar,

There watches on unto mine eyes the outward watch. The firit folio agrees with the fecond quarto.

Perhaps out of thefe two readings the right may be made. Watch feems to be used in a

Richard is a very rare jewel, in a world that fhuns and avoids those who are fallen, or in misfortunes. WARBURTON. I believe the meaning is, this world in which I am univerfally batid.

SCENE

SCENE XI.

Enter Groom.

Groom. Hail, royal Prince.

K. Rich. Thanks, noble Peer.

The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
What art? how com'ft thou hither?

3 Where no man ever comes, but that fad dog,
That brings me food, to make misfortune live?
Groom. I was a poor groom of thy ftable, King,
When thou wert King; who travelling tow'rds York,
With much ado, at length have gotten leave
To look upon my fometime Mafter'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 horfe, that thou fo often hast bestrid;
That horse, that I fo carefully have dress'd.

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

Groom. So proudly, as he had disdain'd the ground.
K. Rich. So proud, that Bolingbroke was on his back!
That jade had eat bread from my royal hand,
This hand hath made him proud with clapping him;
Would he not ftumble? would he not fall down,
Since pride must have a fall, and break the neck
Of that proud man, that did ufurp his back?
Forgiveness, horfe; why do I rail on thee,

3 Where no Man ever comes,

but that fad Dog.] I have ventur'd at a Change here, against the Authority of the Copies, by the Direction of Dr. Warburton. Indeed, fad Dog favours too much of the Comedian, the Oratory of the late fa

And

cetious Mr. Penkethman.
Drudge is the word of Contempt,
which our Author chufes to ufe
on other like .cafions..

THEOBALD.
Dr. Warburton fays perempt-
rily, read Drudge--but I till per-
fift in the old reading.
H 3

Since

Since thou, created to be aw'd by man,
Waft born to bear? I was not made a horse,
And yet I bear a burthen like an afs,
Spur-gall'd, and tir'd, by jaunting Bolingbroke.

SCENE XII.

Enter Keeper, with a dish.

Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay.. [To the Groom. K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away. Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart fhall fay. [Exit. Keep. My lord, will't please you to fall to?

K. Rich. Tafte of it firft, as thou wert wont to do. Keep. My lord, I dare not; for Sir Pierce of Exton, Who late came from the King, commands the contrary.

K. Rich. The Dev'l take Henry of Lancaster, and

thee!

Patience is ftale, and I am weary of it.

Keep. Help, help, help!

[Beats the Keeper.

Enter Exton, and Servants.

K. Rich. How now, what means death in this rude affault?

Wretch, thine own hand yields thy death's inftrument, [Snatching a Sword, and killing one! Go thou, and fill another room in hell. [Kills another. [Exton Strikes him down. That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, That ftaggers thus my perfon; thy fierce hand

Hath with the King's blood ftain'd the King's own

Land.

Mount,

Mount, mount, my foul! thy feat is up on high; Whilft my grofs flefh finks downward, here to die. [Dies.

Exton. As full of valour as of royal blood; Both have I fpilt: 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 reft, and give them burial here.

SCENE XIII.

Changes to the Court at Windfor.

[Exeunt.

Flourish Enter Bolingbroke, York, with other Lords and attendants.

Boling.

K1

IND Uncle York, the latest news we hear,

Is, that the Rebels have confum'd with fire

Our town of Cicefter in Gloucestershire;

But whether they be ta'en or flain, we hear not.

Enter Northumberland.

Welcome, my lord: what is the news?

North. First to thy facred State wifh I all happinefs; The next news is, I have to London fent

The heads of Sal'fbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent :
The manner of their Taking may appear
At large difcourfed in this paper here.

[Prefenting a Paper. Baling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains, And to thy worth will add right-worthy gains.

Enter Fitz-water.

Fitz-w. My Lord, I have from Oxford fent to London

H 4

The