The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: d5r - Histories, p. 45

Left Column


The Life and Death of Richard the Second. And yet I beare a burthen like an Asse, Spur‑gall'd, and tyrd by iauncing Bullingbrooke. Enter Keeper with a Dish. Keep.
[2660]
Fellow, giue place, heere is no longer stay.
Rich. If thou loue me, 'tis time thou wer't away. Groo. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. Exit. Keep. My Lord, wilt please you to fall too? Rich. Taste of it first, as thou wer't wont to doo. Keep.
[2665]
My Lord I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton, Who lately came from th'King, commands the contrary.
Rich. The diuell take Henrie of Lancaster, and thee; Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. Keep.

Helpe, helpe, helpe.

Enter Exton and Seruants. Ri.
[2670]
How now? what meanes Death in this rude assalt? Villaine, thine owne hand yeelds thy deaths instrument, Go thou and fill another roome in hell. Exton strikes him downe. That hand shall burne in neuer‑quenching fire, That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand,
[2675]
Hath with the Kings blood, stain'd the Kings own land. Mount, mount my soule, thy seate is vp on high, Whil'st my grosse flesh sinkes downward, heere to dye.
Exton. As full of Valor, as of Royall blood, Both haue I spilt: Oh would the deed were good.
[2680]
For now the diuell, that told me I did well, Sayes, that this deede is chronicled in hell. This dead King to the liuing King Ile beare, Take hence the rest, and giue them buriall heere.
Exit.
Scœna Quinta. [Act 5, Scene 6] Flourish. Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, with other Lords & attendants. Bul. Kinde Vnkle Yorke, the latest newes we heare,
[2685]
Is that the Rebels haue consum'd with fire Our Towne of Ciceter in Gloucestershire, But whether they be tane or slaine, we heare not. Enter Northumberland. Welcome my Lord: What is the newes?
Nor. First to thy Sacred State, wish I all happinesse:
[2690]
The next newes is, I haue to London sent The heads of Salsbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent:

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Right Column


The manner of their taking may appeare At large discoursed in this paper heere. Bul. We thank thee gentle Percy for thy paines,
[2695]
And to thy worth will adde right worthy gaines.
Enter Fitz‑waters. Fitz. My Lord, I haue from Oxford sent to London, The heads of Broccas, and Sir Bennet Seely, Two of the dangerous consorted Traitors, That sought at Oxford, thy dire ouerthrow. Bul.
[2700]
Thy paines Fitzwaters shall not be forgot, Right Noble is thy merit, well I wot.
Enter Percy and Carlile. Per. The grand Conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, With clog of Conscience, and sowre Melancholly, Hath yeelded vp his body to the graue:
[2705]
But heere is Carlile, liuing to abide Thy Kingly doome, and sentence of his pride.
Bul. Carlile, this is your doome: Choose out some secret place, some reuerend roome More then thou hast, and with it ioy thy life:
[2710]
So as thou liu'st in peace, dye free from strife: For though mine enemy thou hast euer beene, High sparkes of Honor in thee haue I seene.
Enter Exton with a Coffin. Exton. Great King, within this Coffin I present Thy buried feare. Heerein all breathlesse lies
[2715]
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies Richard of Burdeaux, by me hither brought.
Bul. Exton, I thanke thee not, for thou hast wrought A deede of Slaughter, with thy fatall hand, Vpon my head, and all this famous Land. Ex.
[2720]
From your owne mouth my Lord, did I this deed.
Bul. They loue not poyson, that do poyson neede, Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead, I hate the Murtherer, loue him murthered. The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
[2725]
But neither my good word, nor Princely fauour. With Caine go wander through the shade of night, And neuer shew thy head by day, nor light. Lords, I protest my soule is full of woe, That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow.
[2730]
Come mourne with me, for that I do lament, And put on sullen Blacke incontinent: Ile make a voyage to the Holy‑land, to wash this blood off from my guilty hand. March sadly after, grace my mourning heere,
[2735]
In weeping after this vntimely Beere.
Exeunt
FINIS.

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Scæna Quarta. [Act 5, Scene 4] Enter Richard. Rich. I haue bin studying, how to compare This Prison where I liue, vnto the World: And for because the world is populous, And heere is not a Creature, but my selfe,
[2570]
I cannot do it: yet Ile hammer't out. My Braine, Ile proue the Female to my Soule, My Soule, the Father: and these two beget A generation of still breeding Thoughts; And these same Thoughts, people this Little World
[2575]
In humors, like the people of this world, For no thought is contented. The better sort, As thoughts of things Diuine, are intermixt With scruples, and do set the Faith it selfe Against the Faith: as thus: Come litle ones: & then again,
[2580]
It is as hard to come, as for a Camell To thred the posterne of a Needles eye. Thoughts tending to Ambition, they do plot Vnlikely wonders; how these vaine weake nailes May teare a passage through the Flinty ribbes
[2585]
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walles: And for they cannot, dye in their owne pride. Thoughts tending to Content, flatter themselues, That they are not the first of Fortunes slaues, Nor shall not be the last. Like silly Beggars,
[2590]
Who sitting in the Stockes, refuge their shame That many haue, and others must sit there; And in this Thought, they finde a kind of ease, Bearing their owne misfortune on the backe Of such as haue before indur'd the like.
[2595]
Thus play I in one Prison, many people, And none contented. Sometimes am I King; Then Treason makes me wish my selfe a Beggar, And so I am. Then crushing penurie, Perswades me, I was better when a King:
[2600]
Then am I king'd againe: and by and by, Thinke that I am vn‑king'd by Bullingbrooke, And straight am nothing. But what ere I am, Musick Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd
[2605]
With being nothing. Musicke do I heare? Ha, ha? keepe time: How sowre sweet Musicke is, When Time is broke, and no Proportion kept? So is it in the Musicke of mens liues: And heere haue I the daintinesse of eare,
[2610]
To heare time broke in a disorder'd string: But for the Concord of my State and Time, Had not an eare to heare my true Time broke. I wasted Time, and now doth Time waste me: For now hath Time made me his numbring clocke;
[2615]
My Thoughts, are minutes; and with Sighes they iarre, Their watches on vnto mine eyes, the outward Watch, Whereto my finger, like a Dialls point, Is pointing still, in cleansing them from teares. Now sir, the sound that tels what houre it is,
[2620]
Are clamorous groanes, that strike vpon my heart, Which is the bell: so Sighes, and Teares, and Grones, Shew Minutes, Houres, and Times: but my Time Runs poasting on, in Bullingbrookes proud ioy, While I stand fooling heere, his iacke o'th'Clocke.
[2625]
This Musicke mads me, let it sound no more, For though it haue holpe madmen to their wits, In me it seemes, it will make wise‑men mad: Yet blessing on his heart that giues it me; For 'tis a signe of loue, and loue to Richard,
[2630]
Is a strange Brooch, in this all‑hating world.
Enter Groome. Groo. Haile Royall Prince. Rich. Thankes Noble Peere, The cheapest of vs, is ten groates too deere. What are thou? And how com'st thou hither?
[2635]
Where no man euer comes, but that sad dogge That brings me food, to make misfortune liue?
Groo. I was poore Groome of thy Stable (King) When thou wer't King: who trauelling towards Yorke, With much adoo, at length haue gotten leaue
[2640]
To looke vpon my (sometimes Royall) masters face. O how it yern'd my heart, when I beheld In London streets, that Coronation day, When Bullingbrooke rode on Roane Barbary, that horse, that thou so often hast bestrid,
[2645]
That horse, that I so carefully haue drest.
Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me gentle Friend, How went he vnder him? Groo. So proudly, as if he had disdain'd the ground. Rich. So proud, that Bullingbrooke was on his backe;
[2650]
That Iade hath eate bread from my Royall hand. This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. Would he not stumble? Would he not fall downe (Since Pride must haue a fall) and breake the necke Of that proud man, that did vsurpe his backe?
[2655]
Forgiuenesse horse: Why do I raile on thee, Since thou created to be aw'd by man Was't borne to beare? I was not made a horse, And yet I beare a burthen like an Asse, Spur‑gall'd, and tyrd by iauncing Bullingbrooke.
Enter Keeper with a Dish. Keep.
[2660]
Fellow, giue place, heere is no longer stay.
Rich. If thou loue me, 'tis time thou wer't away. Groo. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. Exit. Keep. My Lord, wilt please you to fall too? Rich. Taste of it first, as thou wer't wont to doo. Keep.
[2665]
My Lord I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton, Who lately came from th'King, commands the contrary.
Rich. The diuell take Henrie of Lancaster, and thee; Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. Keep.

Helpe, helpe, helpe.

Enter Exton and Seruants. Ri.
[2670]
How now? what meanes Death in this rude assalt? Villaine, thine owne hand yeelds thy deaths instrument, Go thou and fill another roome in hell. Exton strikes him downe. That hand shall burne in neuer‑quenching fire, That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand,
[2675]
Hath with the Kings blood, stain'd the Kings own land. Mount, mount my soule, thy seate is vp on high, Whil'st my grosse flesh sinkes downward, heere to dye.
Exton. As full of Valor, as of Royall blood, Both haue I spilt: Oh would the deed were good.
[2680]
For now the diuell, that told me I did well, Sayes, that this deede is chronicled in hell. This dead King to the liuing King Ile beare, Take hence the rest, and giue them buriall heere.
Exit.
 

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<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<div type="scene" n="5" rend="notPresent">
   <head rend="italic center">Scæna Quarta.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 5, Scene 4]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Richard.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="2566">I haue bin studying, how to compare</l>
      <l n="2567">This Prison where I liue, vnto the World:</l>
      <l n="2568">And for because the world is populous,</l>
      <l n="2569">And heere is not a Creature, but my selfe,</l>
      <l n="2570">I cannot do it: yet Ile hammer't out.</l>
      <l n="2571">My Braine, Ile proue the Female to my Soule,</l>
      <l n="2572">My Soule, the Father: and these two beget</l>
      <l n="2573">A generation of still breeding Thoughts;</l>
      <l n="2574">And these same Thoughts, people this Little World</l>
      <l n="2575">In humors, like the people of this world,</l>
      <l n="2576">For no thought is contented. The better sort,</l>
      <l n="2577">As thoughts of things Diuine, are intermixt</l>
      <l n="2578">With scruples, and do set the Faith it selfe</l>
      <l n="2579">Against the Faith: as thus: Come litle ones: &amp; then again,</l>
      <l n="2580">It is as hard to come, as for a Camell</l>
      <l n="2581">To thred the posterne of a Needles eye.</l>
      <l n="2582">Thoughts tending to Ambition, they do plot</l>
      <l n="2583">Vnlikely wonders; how these vaine weake nailes</l>
      <l n="2584">May teare a passage through the Flinty ribbes</l>
      <l n="2585">Of this hard world, my ragged prison walles:</l>
      <l n="2586">And for they cannot, dye in their owne pride.</l>
      <l n="2587">Thoughts tending to Content, flatter themselues,</l>
      <l n="2588">That they are not the first of Fortunes slaues,</l>
      <l n="2589">Nor shall not be the last. Like silly Beggars,</l>
      <l n="2590">Who sitting in the Stockes, refuge their shame</l>
      <l n="2591">That many haue, and others must sit there;</l>
      <l n="2592">And in this Thought, they finde a kind of ease,</l>
      <cb n="2"/>
      <l n="2593">Bearing their owne misfortune on the backe</l>
      <l n="2594">Of such as haue before indur'd the like.</l>
      <l n="2595">Thus play I in one Prison, many people,</l>
      <l n="2596">And none contented. Sometimes am I King;</l>
      <l n="2597">Then Treason makes me wish my selfe a Beggar,</l>
      <l n="2598">And so I am. Then crushing penurie,</l>
      <l n="2599">Perswades me, I was better when a King:</l>
      <l n="2600">Then am I king'd againe: and by and by,</l>
      <l n="2601">Thinke that I am vn‑king'd by<hi rend="italic">Bullingbrooke</hi>,</l>
      <l n="2602">And straight am nothing. But what ere I am,</l>
      <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="business">Musick</stage>
      <l n="2603">Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,</l>
      <l n="2604">With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd</l>
      <l n="2605">With being nothing. Musicke do I heare?</l>
      <l n="2606">Ha, ha? keepe time: How sowre sweet Musicke is,</l>
      <l n="2607">When Time is broke, and no Proportion kept?</l>
      <l n="2608">So is it in the Musicke of mens liues:</l>
      <l n="2609">And heere haue I the daintinesse of eare,</l>
      <l n="2610">To heare time broke in a disorder'd string:</l>
      <l n="2611">But for the Concord of my State and Time,</l>
      <l n="2612">Had not an eare to heare my true Time broke.</l>
      <l n="2613">I wasted Time, and now doth Time waste me:</l>
      <l n="2614">For now hath Time made me his numbring clocke;</l>
      <l n="2615">My Thoughts, are minutes; and with Sighes they iarre,</l>
      <l n="2616">Their watches on vnto mine eyes, the outward Watch,</l>
      <l n="2617">Whereto my finger, like a Dialls point,</l>
      <l n="2618">Is pointing still, in cleansing them from teares.</l>
      <l n="2619">Now sir, the sound that tels what houre it is,</l>
      <l n="2620">Are clamorous groanes, that strike vpon my heart,</l>
      <l n="2621">Which is the bell: so Sighes, and Teares, and Grones,</l>
      <l n="2622">Shew Minutes, Houres, and Times: but my Time</l>
      <l n="2623">Runs poasting on, in<hi rend="italic">Bullingbrookes</hi>proud ioy,</l>
      <l n="2624">While I stand fooling heere, his iacke o'th'Clocke.</l>
      <l n="2625">This Musicke mads me, let it sound no more,</l>
      <l n="2626">For though it haue holpe madmen to their wits,</l>
      <l n="2627">In me it seemes, it will make wise‑men mad:</l>
      <l n="2628">Yet blessing on his heart that giues it me;</l>
      <l n="2629">For 'tis a signe of loue, and loue to<hi rend="italic">Richard</hi>,</l>
      <l n="2630">Is a strange Brooch, in this all‑hating world.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Groome.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Groo.</speaker>
      <l n="2631">Haile Royall Prince.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="2632">Thankes Noble Peere,</l>
      <l n="2633">The cheapest of vs, is ten groates too deere.</l>
      <l n="2634">What are thou? And how com'st thou hither?</l>
      <l n="2635">Where no man euer comes, but that sad dogge</l>
      <l n="2636">That brings me food, to make misfortune liue?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Groo.</speaker>
      <l n="2637">I was poore Groome of thy Stable (King)</l>
      <l n="2638">When thou wer't King: who trauelling towards Yorke,</l>
      <l n="2639">With much adoo, at length haue gotten leaue</l>
      <l n="2640">To looke vpon my (sometimes Royall) masters face.</l>
      <l n="2641">O how it yern'd my heart, when I beheld</l>
      <l n="2642">In London streets, that Coronation day,</l>
      <l n="2643">When<hi rend="italic">Bullingbrooke</hi>rode on Roane Barbary,</l>
      <l n="2644">that horse, that thou so often hast bestrid,</l>
      <l n="2645">That horse, that I so carefully haue drest.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="2646">Rode he on Barbary? Tell me gentle Friend,</l>
      <l n="2647">How went he vnder him?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Groo.</speaker>
      <l n="2648">So proudly, as if he had disdain'd the ground.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="2649">So proud, that<hi rend="italic">Bullingbrooke</hi>was on his backe;</l>
      <l n="2650">That Iade hath eate bread from my Royall hand.</l>
      <l n="2651">This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.</l>
      <l n="2652">Would he not stumble? Would he not fall downe</l>
      <l n="2653">(Since Pride must haue a fall) and breake the necke</l>
      <l n="2654">Of that proud man, that did vsurpe his backe?</l>
      <l n="2655">Forgiuenesse horse: Why do I raile on thee,</l>
      <l n="2656">Since thou created to be aw'd by man</l>
      <l n="2657">Was't borne to beare? I was not made a horse,</l>
      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0369-0.jpg" n="45"/>
      <cb n="1"/>
      <l n="2658">And yet I beare a burthen like an Asse,</l>
      <l n="2659">Spur‑gall'd, and tyrd by iauncing<hi rend="italic">Bullingbrooke</hi>.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Keeper with a Dish.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-kee">
      <speaker rend="italic">Keep.</speaker>
      <l n="2660">Fellow, giue place, heere is no longer stay.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="2661">If thou loue me, 'tis time thou wer't away.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gro">
      <speaker rend="italic">Groo.</speaker>
      <l n="2662">What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall
      <lb/>say.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-kee">
      <speaker rend="italic">Keep.</speaker>
      <l n="2663">My Lord, wilt please you to fall too?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="2664">Taste of it first, as thou wer't wont to doo.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-kee">
      <speaker rend="italic">Keep.</speaker>
      <l n="2665">My Lord I dare not: Sir<hi rend="italic">Pierce</hi>of Exton,</l>
      <l n="2666">Who lately came from th'King, commands the contrary.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="2667">The diuell take<hi rend="italic">Henrie</hi>of Lancaster, and thee;</l>
      <l n="2668">Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-kee">
      <speaker rend="italic">Keep.</speaker>
      <p n="2669">Helpe, helpe, helpe.</p>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Exton and Seruants.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ri.</speaker>
      <l n="2670">How now? what meanes Death in this rude assalt?</l>
      <l n="2671">Villaine, thine owne hand yeelds thy deaths instrument,</l>
      <l n="2672">Go thou and fill another roome in hell.</l>
      <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exton strikes him downe.</stage>
      <l n="2673">That hand shall burne in neuer‑quenching fire,</l>
      <l n="2674">That staggers thus my person.<hi rend="italic">Exton</hi>, thy fierce hand,</l>
      <l n="2675">Hath with the Kings blood, stain'd the Kings own land.</l>
      <l n="2676">Mount, mount my soule, thy seate is vp on high,</l>
      <l n="2677">Whil'st my grosse flesh sinkes downward, heere to dye.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ext">
      <speaker rend="italic">Exton.</speaker>
      <l n="2678">As full of Valor, as of Royall blood,</l>
      <l n="2679">Both haue I spilt: Oh would the deed were good.</l>
      <l n="2680">For now the diuell, that told me I did well,</l>
      <l n="2681">Sayes, that this deede is chronicled in hell.</l>
      <l n="2682">This dead King to the liuing King Ile beare,</l>
      <l n="2683">Take hence the rest, and giue them buriall heere.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
</div>

        
        

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