For no thought is contented. The better fort,
As thoughts, of things divine, are intermixt
With fcruples, and do fet 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 poftern of a needle's eye.

Thoughts, tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders; how these 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 themfelves,
That they are not the firft of fortune's flaves,
And fhall not be the laft; 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 eafe,
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 with myself a beggar,
And fo I am. Then crushing penury
Perfuades ine, 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?
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 diforder'd string,
But for the concord of my state and time,
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I wafted time, and now doth time waste me,
For now hath time made me his numb'ting clock,

[Mufick

My

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 cleaning them from tears.
Now, Sir, the founds, that tell what hour it is,
Are clamorous groans, that ftrike upon my heart,
Which is the bell; fo fighs, and rears, and groans,
Shew minutes, hours, and times. O, but my time
Runs pofting on, in Bolingbroke's proud joy, ple
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 feems, 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 strange brooch, in this all-hating world (2).
beed:

SAMES CENE XL

éle Enter Groom.

Groom. Hail, royal Prince.

K Rich. Thanks, noble Peer.

The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.

(1)with fighs they jar, Their watches, Sec.} } 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:

My iboughts are minutes, and with

There watches on unio mine eyes

ward watch. fighs they jar,

The first folio agrees with the fecond quarto.

Perhaps out of there two readings the right may be made. Watch Teems to be ufed in a double fenfe, for a quantity of time, and for the inftrument that measures time. Fread, but with no great confidence, thus:

My thoughts are minutes, and with fighs they jar

Their watches on; mine eyes the outward watch,
Whereto, &c.

(2) in this ALL-HATING world.] We fhould read: FALL-HATING, i. e. Love to Richard is a very rare jewel, in a world that thuns and avoids thofe who are fallen, or in misforWARBURTON.

tunes.

I believe the meaning is, this world in which I am univerfally bated.

(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 Master's Face.
O, how it yearn'd my heart, when I beheld,
In London ftreets, that Coronation day,
When Bolingbroke rode on Roan Barbary,
That horfe, that thou fo often haft beftrid;
That horfe, that I fo carefully have drefs'd.

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

Groom. So proudly, as he had difdain'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, Since thou, created to be aw'd by man, Waft born to bear? I was not made a horfe, And yet I bear a burthen like an ass,

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

(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 facetious Mr. Penkethman. And Drudge is the word of Contempt, which our authour chufes to ufe on other like Occafions.

THEOBALD.

Dr. Warburton fays peremptorily, read Drudge-but I still per fift in the old reading.

SCENE

SCENE XII.

Enter Keeper, with a difb.

Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer ftay.
[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.

Keep. My lord, will't please you to fall to?
K. Rich. Tafte of it firft, as thou wert

[Exit.

It 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 Lancafter, 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 affealt? What mea

2

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 frikes him down. That hand fhall 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, my foul! thy feat is up on high; Whilft my grofs fiefh 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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE XIIL

Changes to the Court at Windfor.

Flourib: Enter Bolingbroke, York, with other Lords and attendants.

Baling. Kis, that the Rebels have confum'd with fire

IND Uncle York, the latest news we hear,

Our town of Gicefter in Gloucefterfbire;
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 with I all happiness ; The next news is, I have to London fent

The heads of Sal'sbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Rent :
The manner of their Taking may appear

At large difcourfed in this paper here.

な

[Prefenting a Paper.

Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pians, And to thy worth will add right-worthy gains. We Enter Fitz-water.

Fitz-. My lord, I have from Oxford fent to London The heads of Broccas, and Sir Bennet Seely Two of the dangerous conforted traytors, That fought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.

Boling, Thy pains, Fitz-water, fhall not be forgot, Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.

Enter Percy, and the Bishop of Carlile.

Percy. The grand Confpirator, Abbot of Weftminster, With clog of confcience, and four melancholy,

Hath yielded up his body to the Grave:

But here is Carlisle, living to abide

Thy kingly doom, and fentence of his pride.
Boling. Carlile, this is your doom:

Chufe out fomne fecret place, fome reverend room
More than thou haft, and with it joy thy life;
So, as thou liv'ft in peace, die free from ftrife.
For though mine enemy thou haft ever been,
High fparks of honour in thee I have seen.

Enter