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  • Title: Richard II (Quarto 1, 1597)
  • Editor: Catherine Lisak
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-436-3

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Catherine Lisak
    Peer Reviewed

    Richard II (Quarto 1, 1597)

    The Tragedie of
    Are clamorous groanes which strike vpon my hart,
    Which is the bell, so sighs, and teares, and grones,
    Shew minutes, times, and houres: but my time,
    2725Runnes posting on in Bullingbrokes proud ioye,
    While I stand fooling heere his iacke of the clocke.
    This musicke maddes me, let it sound no more,
    For though it haue holp mad men to their witts,
    In me it seemes it will make wise men mad:
    2730Yet blessing on his hart that giues it me,
    For tis asigne of loue: and loue to Richard,
    Is a strange brooch in this al-hating world.
    Enter a groome of the stable.
    Groome. Haile roiall Prince.
    2735Rich. Thankes noble peare:
    The cheapest of vs is ten grotes too deare.
    What art thou, and how comest thou hither,
    Where no man neuer comes, but that sad dog,
    That brings me foode to make misfortune liue.
    2740Groome. I was a poore groome of thy stable King,
    When thou wert King: who trauailling towards Yorke,
    With much adoe (at length) haue gotten leaue,
    To looke vpon my sometimes roiall maisters face:
    Oh how it ernd my hart when I beheld,
    2745In London streetes, that Corronation day,
    When Bullingbroke rode on Roane Barbarie,
    That horse, that thou so often hast bestride,
    That horse, that I so carefully haue drest.
    Rich. Rode he on Barbarie, tell me gentle freind,
    2750How went he vnder him?
    Groom. So proudly as if he disdaind the ground.
    Ric. So proud that Bullingbroke was on his backe:
    That Iade hath eate bread from my royall hand,
    This hand hath made him proud with clapping him:
    2755Would he not stumble, would he not fall downe
    Since pride must haue a fal; and breake the necke,
    Of that prond man, that did vsurpe his backe?
    Forgiuenes horse why do I raile on thee?