(As thoughts of things divine) are intermixed With scruples, and do set the word itself 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 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
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 endured 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 kinged again: and by and by
Think that I am unkinged by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing. But whate'er I am,
Nor I, nor any man that but man is,
With nothing shall be pleased till he be eased
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 disordered 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 to mine eyes, the outward watch,
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
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,

Shew 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 have holp 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.

The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
What art thou? and how com'st thou hither,
Where no man ever comes but that sad dog
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 sometime master's face.
O how it yearned 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 dressed!
K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle
friend,

How went he under him?

Groom. So proudly as if he had disdained the ground.

K. 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 awed by man,
Wast born to bear?-I was not made a horse:
And yet I bear a burden like an ass,
Spur-galled and tired by jauncing 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, wilt 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 Ex-

ton, 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 assault?

Villain, thine own hand yields thy death's instru

ment.

[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 stained 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.-O 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 and YORK, with Lords and Attendants.

Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear

Is that the rebels have consumed with fire
Our town of Ci'cester 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 discourséd 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.

Enter FITZWATER.

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.

Enter PERCY, with the BISHOP OF CARLISLE.

Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of Westminster,

With clog of conscience and sour melancholy,
Hath yielded up his body to the grave:
But here is Carlisle living, to abide
Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride.
Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom :-
Choose out some secret place, some reverend room,
More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life:
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 EXTON, with Attendants bearing a coffin.
Exton. Great King, within this coffin I present
Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bordeaux, 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.
Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I
this deed.

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 shew 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 what I do lament,
And put on sullen black incontinent:
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.

[Exeunt.

"Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster, Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son?" Act I., Scene 1. When public challenges were accepted, each combatant found a pledge for his appearance at the time and place appointed." Band" and "bond" were formerly synony

mous.

Bolingbroke's original title of Hereford, is in old documents written "Herford" and "Harford," and was no doubt pronounced as a word of two syllables.

"Re-enter Attendants, with BOLINGBROKE and NORFOLK." Act I., Scene 1. It appears that the Duke of Hereford, afterwards Henry IV., was not called Bolingbroke until after his accession to the throne. He was so designated from having been born in the town of that name in Lincolnshire, about 1366.

"That he did plot the Duke of Gloster's death."

Act I., Scene 1. The Duke of Gloster alluded to was Thomas of Woodstock, youngest son of Edward III. He was murdered at Calais in 1397.

"For that my sovereign liege was in my debt,
Upon remainder of a dear account

Since last I went to France to fetch his queen."
Act I., Scene 1.

The Duke of Norfolk was joined in commission with Edward Earl of Rutland (the Aumerle of this play), to go to France, in the year 1395, to demand in marriage Isabel, eldest daughter of Charles VI. (the princess was then between seven and eight years of age). Richard was married to his young consort in November, 1396, at Calais: his first wife, Anne, daughter of Charles IV., Emperor of Germany, died on Whit-Sunday, 1394. The marriage with Isabella was of course merely political: it was accompanied with an agreement for a thirty-years' truce between England and France.

no subterraneous rooms till about the middle of the reign of Charles I.). When dinner had been set on the board by the ewers, the proper officers attended in each of these offices. Sometimes, on great occasions, they were all thrown open, and unlimited license given to all comers to eat and drink at their pleasure. The duchess therefore laments, that in consequence of the murder of her husband, all the hospitality of plenty is at an end:-"the walls are unfurnished, the lodging-rooms empty, and the offices unpeopled. All is solitude and silence: her groans are the only cheer that her guests can expect."

"GAUNT on a Couch, the DUKE OF YORK and others standing by him."-Act II., Scene 1.

The Duke of York here introduced was the fifth son of Edward III.; he was born, in 1441, at Langley, near St. Albans, and was hence called Edmund of Langley." He was of an indolent disposition, a lover of pleasure, and averse to business; easily prevailed upon to lie still and consult his own quiet, and never acting with spirit upon any occasion." -LOWTH.

"Now for our Irish wars: We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns." Act II., Scene 1. The kerns were Irish peasantry, serving as light-armed foot soldiers.

"Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke

About his marriage."-Act II., Scene 1.

The Duke of Hereford, on his banishment, went into France, and was honourably entertained at that court. But for the interference of Richard, he would have obtained in marriage the only daughter of the Duke of Berry, uncle to the French king.

If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,
Call in the letters-patent that he hath

By his attorneys-general to sue

His livery, and deny his offered homage,
You pluck a thousand dangers on your head."
Act II., Scene 1.

On the death of every person who held by knight's service, his heir, if under age, became a ward of the King's; but if of age, he had a right to sue out a writ of ouster le main, i. e. livery, that the king's hand might be taken off, and the land delivered to him. To "deny his offered homage," was to refuse to admit the homage by which he was to hold his lands.

"And daily new exactions are devised:

As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what."
Act II., Scene 1.

It is recorded by Stowe, that Richard "compelled all the religious, gentlemen, and commons, to set their seals to blanks, to the end he might, if it pleased him, oppress them severally, or all at once: some of the commons paid him one thousand marks, some one thousand pounds," &c.

"The bay-trees in our country are all withered, And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven." Act II., Scene IV. This enumeration of prodigies is in the highest degree poetical and striking.-JOHNSON.

The hint is in Holinshed:-" In this year, in a manner, throughout all the realm of England, old bay-trees withered." -This tree was supposed to possess many virtues in warding off evils, both bodily and supernatural.

"Mine ear is open and my heart prepared:
The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold."
Act III., Scene 2.

It seems to be the design of the poet to raise Richard to esteem in his fall, and consequently to interest the reader in his favour. He gives him only passive fortitude, the virtue of a confessor rather than of a king. In his prosperity we saw him imperious and oppressive; but in his distress he is wise, patient, and pious.-JOHNSON.

"The very beadsmen learn to bend their bows
Of double-fatal yew against thy state."

Act III., Scene 2. Yew is called "double-fatal" on account of the poisonous quality of the leaves, and because the wood was used for instruments of death.

It appears that every Englishman, while archery was practised, was obliged to keep in his house a bow, either of yew or some other wood. It is probable that the yew-tree was planted in churchyards, not only to defend the edifices from the winds, but also on account of their warlike use; while, from being secured in consecrated places, their poisonous quality was prevented from injuring cattle.

the Duke of Gloster's son and to the Earl of Arundel's son (that loved him but little, for he had put their fathers to death), who led him straight to the castle.-STOWE. (From

a manuscript account by a person who was present).

"My wretchednesss unto a row of pins,
They'll talk of state: for every one doth so
Against a change: woe is forerun with woe."
Act III., Scene 4.

The poet, according to the common doctrine of prognostication, supposes dejection to forerun calamity, and a kingdom to be filled with rumours of sorrow when any great disaster is impending. The sense is, that public evils are always presignified by public pensiveness and plaintive conversation. -JOHNSON.

"London.-Westminster Hall."-Act IV., Scene 1.

Richard finished the re-building of Westminster Hall in 1399. The first meeting of Parliament in the new edifice was for the purpose of deposing him.

"Was this face the face

That every day under his household roof

Did keep ten thousand men?"-Act IV., Scene 1. Shakspere is here not quite accurate. Our old chronicles only say, that," to his household came every day, to meat, ten thousand men."-MALONE.

"O good! Convey?—Conveyers are you all, That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall." Act IV., Scene 1. "To convey" is a term often used in an ill sense. Pistol says of stealing, "convey the wise it call." Richard appears to use the word "conveyers" in the sense of " "jugglers."

"This way the King will come: this is the way To Julius Cæsar's ill-erected tower." Act V., Scene 1. The most ancient part of the Tower is traditionally said to have been built by Julius Cæsar.-By "ill-erected" is meant -erected for evil purposes.

"I am sworn brother, sweet,

To grim necessity."-Act V., Scene 1.

The term "sworn brother" alludes to those persons who, in the age of adventure, bound themselves by mutual oaths to share fortunes together.-The meaning is, "I have reconciled myself to necessity: I am in a state of amity with the constraint which I have sustained."

"Enter YORK and his DUCHESS."-Act V., Scene 2. The first wife of Edward Duke of York was Isabella, daughter of Peter the Cruel, King of Castile and Leon. He married her in 1372, and had by her the Duke of Aumerle (or Albemarle) and all his other children. The introduction of the Duchess in this place is an anachronism, as she died in 1394, four or five years before the events related in the present play.

"That all the walls,

With painted imagery, had said at once,
'Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!'"
Act V., Scene 2.

The allusion here is, probably, to the painted cloths that were hung in the streets during the pageants: in these the figures sometimes had labels issuing from their mouths, containing sentences of gratulation.