I have been studying how I may compare

5.5.22669This prison where I live unto the world;

5.5.32670And for because the world is populous

5.5.42671And here is not a creature but myself,

5.5.52672I cannot do it. Yet I'll hammer it out.

5.5.62673My brain I'll prove the female to my soul,

5.5.72674My soul the father, and these two beget

5.5.82675A generation of still-breeding thoughts;

5.5.92676And these same thoughts people this little world,

5.5.102677In humors like the people of this world,

5.5.112678For no thought is contented. The better sort,

5.5.122679As thoughts of things divine, are intermixed

5.5.132680With scruples, and do set the word itself

5.5.142681Against the word,

5.5.152682 As thus, "Come, little ones," and then again,

5.5.15.1"It is as hard to come, as for a camel

5.5.162683To thread the postern of a small needle's eye."

5.5.172684Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot

5.5.182685Unlikely wonders: how these vain weak nails

5.5.192686May tear a passage through the flinty ribs

5.5.202687Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls,

5.5.212688And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.

5.5.222689Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves

5.5.232690That they are not the first of Fortune's slaves,

5.5.242691Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars

5.5.252692Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame

5.5.262693That many have and others must sit there.

5.5.272694And in this thought they find a kind of ease,

5.5.282695Bearing their own misfortunes on the back

5.5.292696Of such as have before endured the like.

5.5.302697Thus play I in one person many people,

5.5.312698And none contented. Sometimes am I king.

5.5.322699Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar,

5.5.332700And so I am. Then crushing penury

5.5.342701Persuades me I was better when a king.

5.5.352702Then am I kinged again, and by and by

5.5.362703Think that I am unkinged by Bolingbroke,

5.5.372704And straight am nothing. But whate'er I be,

5.5.382705Nor I nor any man that but man is

5.5.392706With nothing shall be pleased till he be eased

2707With being nothing.[The music plays.] Music do I hear?

5.5.402708Ha, ha, keep time! How sour sweet music is

5.5.412709When time is broke and no proportion kept.

5.5.422710So is it in the music of men's lives.

5.5.432711And here have I the daintiness of ear

5.5.442712To check time broke in a disordered string;

5.5.452713But for the concord of my state and time

5.5.462714Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.

5.5.472715I wasted time, and now doth time waste me!

5.5.482716For now hath time made me his numb'ring clock.

5.5.492717My thoughts are minutes, and with sighs they jar

5.5.502718Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,

5.5.512719Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,

5.5.522720Is pointing still in cleansing them from tears.

5.5.532721Now, sir, the sound that tells what hour it is

5.5.542722Are clamorous groans which strike upon my heart,

5.5.552723Which is the bell. So sighs, and tears, and groans

5.5.562724Show minutes, times, and hours. But my time

5.5.572725Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy,

5.5.582726While I stand fooling here, his jack of the clock.

5.5.592727This music mads me. Let it sound no more,

5.5.602728For though it have holp madmen to their wits,

5.5.612729In me it seems it will make wise men mad.

5.5.622730Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me,

5.5.632731For 'tis a sign of love, and love to Richard

5.5.642732Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.

Hail, royal Prince!

Hail, royal Prince! Thanks, noble peer.

5.5.672736The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.

5.5.682737What art thou, and how com'st thou hither

5.5.692738Where no man never comes but that sad dog

5.5.702739That brings me food to make misfortune live?

I was a poor groom of thy stable, King,

5.5.722741When thou wert king, who, traveling towards York,

5.5.732742With much ado, at length have gotten leave

5.5.742743To look upon my sometime royal master's face.

5.5.752744Oh, how it erned my heart when I beheld

5.5.762745In London streets, that coronation day,

5.5.772746When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary,

5.5.782747That horse that thou so often hast bestrid,

5.5.792748That horse that I so carefully have dressed.

Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend,

5.5.812750How went he under him?

So proudly as if he disdained the ground.

So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back!

5.5.842753That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;

5.5.852754This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.

5.5.862755Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down,

5.5.872756Since pride must have a fall, and break the neck,

5.5.882757Of that proud man, that did usurp his back?

5.5.892758Forgiveness, horse! Why do I rail on thee,

5.5.902759Since thou, created to be awed by man,

5.5.912760Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse,

5.5.922761And yet I bear a burden like an ass,

5.5.932762Spurred, galled, and tired by jauncing Bolingbroke.

[To Groom] Fellow, give place. Here is no longer stay.

[To Groom] If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away.

What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say.

My lord, will't please you to fall to?

Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do.

My lord, I dare not. Sir Pierce of Exton, who lately

5.5.1002771Came from the King, commands the contrary.

[Striking the Keeper] The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and thee!

5.5.1022773Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.

Help, help, help!

How, now! What means Death in this rude assault?

5.5.1052777Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument.

5.5.1062778Go thou and fill another room in hell!

That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire

5.5.1082781That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand

5.5.1092782Hath with the King's blood stained the King's own land.

5.5.1102783Mount, mount, my soul. Thy seat is up on high,

5.5.1112784Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die.

As full of valor as of royal blood.

5.5.1132786Both have I spilled. O would the deed were good!

5.5.1142787For now the devil that told me I did well

5.5.1152788Says that this deed is chronicled in hell.

5.5.1162789This dead King to the living King I'll bear. --

5.5.1172790[To keeper and remaining men] Take hence the rest, and give them burial here.