Enter one, with a glass.

Give me that glafs, and therein will I read.-
No deeper wrinkles yet? hath forrow ftruck
So many blows upon this face of mine,

And made no deeper wounds?-Oh, flattering glass,
Like to my followers in profperity,

Thou doft beguile me!-Was this face the face
That every day under his houshold roof

Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face,
That, like the fun, did make beholders wink?
Was this the face, that fac'd fo many follies,
And was at laft out-fac'd by Bolingbroke?
A brittle glory fhineth in this face:

[Dafhes the glass against the ground. As brittle as the glory, is the face;

For there it is, crack'd in an hundred shivers.-
Mark, filent king, the moral of this sport,-
How foon my forrow hath deftroy'd my face,
Boling. The fhadow of your forrow hath destroy'd
The fhadow of your face.

K. Rich. Say that again.

The fhadow of my forrow? Ha! let's fee:-
'Tis very true, my grief lies all within;
And these external manners of lament
Are merely fhadows to the unfeen grief,
That fwells with filence in the tortur'd foul;
There lies the fubftance: and I thank thee, king,
For thy great bounty, that not only giv❜st
Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way
How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon,
And then be gone, and trouble you no more.
Shall I obtain it?

Boling. Name it, fair coufin.

K. Rich. Fair coufin? Why, I am greater than a

king:

For, when I was a king, my flatterers

Were then but fubjects; being now a fubject,

I have a king here to my flatterer.

Being fo great, I have no need to beg.
Boling. Yet afk.

K. Rich. And fhall I have?
Boling. You fhall.

K. Rich. Then give me leave to go.
Boling. Whither?

K. Rich. Whither you will, fo I were from your fights.

Boling. Go fome of you, convey him to the Tower. K. Rich. Oh, good! Convey Conveyers, are you all,

That rife thus nimbly by a true king's fall.

[Exit. Boling. On Wednesday next, we folemnly fet

down

Our coronation : lords, prepare yourselves.

[Ex. all but the Abbot, bishop of Carlisle, and Aumerle. Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. Carl. The woe's to come; the children yet unborn Shall feel this day as fharp to them as thorn. Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot To rid the realm of this pernicious blot? Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein, You shall not only take the facrament

3 Conveyers are ye all,] To convey is a term often used in an ill fenfe, and fo Richard understands it here. Pistol fays of fealing, convey the wife it call; and to convey is the word for fleight of hand, which feems to be alluded to here. Te are all, fays the depofed prince, jugglers, who rife with this nimble dexterity by the fall of a good king. JOHNSON.

4 On Wednesday next we folemnly fet down Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves.] The first quarto, 1598, reads:

5

"Let it be fo: and lo on Wednesday next
"We folemnly proclaim our coronation :
"Lords, be ready all." STEEVENS.

as Sharp to them as thorn.] This pathetic denunciation fhews that Shakespeare intended to impress his auditors with dislike of the defpofal of Richard, JOHNSON.

To

To bury mine intents, but also to effect
Whatever I fhall happen to devise :-
I fee, your brows are full of difcontent,
Your hearts of forrow, and your eyes of tears;
Come home with me to fupper, and I'll lay
A plot, fhall fhew us all a merry day 7.

[Exeunt.

ACT V. SCENE I.

Aftreet in London.

Enter Queen, and Ladies.

Queen. This way the king will come; this is the

way

To Julius Cæfar's ill-erected tower,

To whose flint bofom my condemned lord
Is doom'd a prifoner by proud Bolingbroke:
9 Here let us reft, if this rebellious earth
Have any refting for her true king's queen.

Enter King Richard, and guards.

But foft, but fee, or rather do not see,
My fair rose wither: Yet look up; behold;
That you in pity may diffolve to dew,

And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.

To bury] To conceal, to keep fecret. JOHNSON.

7 In the first edition there is no perfonal appearance of king Richard, fo that all to the line at which he leaves the stage was inferted afterwards. JOHNSON.

To Julius Cafar's &c.] The Tower of London is traditionally faid to have been the work of Julius Cæfar. JOHNSON. Here let us reft, if &c.] So Milton:

"Here reft, if any reft can harbour here." JOHNSON.

VOL. V.

Ah, thou,

Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand;

2

[To K. Rich. Thou map of honour; thou king Richard's tomb, And not king Richard; thou most beauteous inn Why fhould hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee, When triumph is become an ale-house guest?

K. Rich. 3 Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, To make my end too fudden: learn, good foul, To think our former state a happy dream; From which awak'd, the truth of what we are Shews us but this: I am fworn brother, fweet, To grim neceffity; and he and I

Will keep a league 'till death. Hie thee to France, And cloifter thee in fome religious houfe:

Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, Which our profane hours here have stricken down.

Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and mind Transform'd, and weakened? Hath Bolingbroke Depos'd thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart? The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw,

And wounds the earth, if nothing elfe, with rage To be o'erpower'd; And wilt thou, pupil-like, Take thy correction mildly? kifs the rod?

O thou, the model where old Troy did ftand;] The queen ufes comparative terms abfolutely. Inftead of faying, Thou who ap peareft as the ground on which the magnificence of Troy was once erected, the fays:

O thou the model, &c.

Thou map of honour :

Thou picture of greatnefs. JOHNSON.

2

beauteous inn,] Inn does not here fignify a houfe of public entertainment; but, as in Spenfer, a habitation in general. STEEVENS.

5 Join not with grief,] Do not thou unite with grief against me; do not, by thy additional forrows, enable grief to strike me down at once. My own part of forrow I can bear, but thy afAliction will immediately destroy me. JOHNSON.

4 I am fworn brother,

To grim neceffity;

I have reconciled myfelf to neceffity, I am in a state of amity with the constraint which I have sustained. JOHNSON.

And

And fawn on rage with bafe humility,

Which art a lion, and a king of beasts?

K. Rich. A king of beafts, indeed; if aught but beafts,

I had been still a happy king of men.

Good fometime queen, prepare thee hence for France: Think, I am dead; and that even here thou tak’st, As from my death-bed, my last living leave.

In winter's tedious nights, fit by the fire

With good old folks; and let them tell thee tales
Of woeful ages, long ago betid:

And, ere thou bid good night, 5 to quit their grief,
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,

And fend the hearers weeping to their beds.

For why, the fenfelefs brands will fympathize

The heavy accent of thy moving tongue,

And, in compaffion, weep the fire out:

And fome will mourn in afhes, fome coal-black,
For the depofing of a rightful king.

Enter Northumberland, attended.

North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is chang'd; You muft to Pomfret, not unto the Tower. And, madam, there is order ta'en for you; With all swift speed, you must away to France. K.Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal The mounting Bolingbroke afcends my throne,The time fhall not be many hours of age More than it is, ere foul fin, gathering head, Shall break into corruption: thou fhalt think, Though he divide the realm, and give thee half, It is too little, helping him to all;

And he shall think, that thou, which know'ft the way

5

to quit their grief,] To retaliate their mournful stories.

JOHNSON.

• For why,] The poet should have ended this speech with the foregoing line, and have spared his childish prattle about the fire. JOHNSON.