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  4. RIchard II
  • A Monologue from the play "RIchard II" by William Shakespeare
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Character Richard II
Gender Male
Age Range(s) Young Adult (20-35), Adult (36-50), Senior (>50)
Type of monologue / Character is Depressed, Lamenting
Type Dramatic
Period Renaissance
Genre Historical, Drama
Description Richard II reflects on his downfall
Location ACT V, Scene 5

Summary

The play is about the fall from power and death of Richard II and the rise of the first king of the house of Lancaster, Henry Bolingbroke, who will become Henry IV.
In the first scene we find Richard II acting as a judge for a dispute between Henry Bolingbroke, the king's cousin and son of John of Gaunt, and Thomas Mowbray, the Duke of Norfolk. Henry Bolingbroke accuses Thomas Mowbray of being a traitor and conspiring against the king. Eventually they decide to fight in a duel. At first the king accepts but then decides to banish them from England, Mowbray forever and Bolingbroke for six years.
Richard II becomes less and less popular among the nobility, especially when John Gaunt dies and he seizes all his properties and money to fund his war with Ireland.
They plan to overthrow the king and help Bolingbroke to return to England secretly. When Richard leaves to fight in Ireland, Henry Bolingbroke invades the north coast of England with an army. Richard eventually returns and Bolingbroke claims his lands back at first and then claims the crown. He becomes Henry IV and Richard is imprisoned in the castle of Pomfret.
In this monologue, in ACT V, Scene 5, Richard is imprisoned and ruminates about being isolated from the world and having lost the crown.

Written by Administrator

Excerpt
KING RICHARD II
I have been studying how I may compare
This prison where I live unto the world:
And for because the world is populous
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out.
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul,
My soul the father; and these two beget
A generation of still-breeding thoughts,
And these same thoughts people this little world,
In humours like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented. The better sort,
As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd
With scruples and do set 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 postern of a small needle's eye.'
Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails
May tear a passage through the flinty ribs
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls,
And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves
That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,
Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars
Who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame,
That many have and others must sit there;
And in this thought they find a kind of ease,
Bearing their own misfortunes on the back
Of such as have before endured the like.
Thus play I in one person many people,
And none contented: sometimes am I king;
Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am: then crushing penury
Persuades me 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 whate'er I be,
Nor I nor any man that but man is
With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased
With being nothing. Music do I hear?

[Music]

Ha, ha! keep time: how sour sweet music is,
When time is broke and no proportion kept!
So is it in the music of men's lives.
And here have I the daintiness of ear
To cheque time broke in a disorder'd string;
But for the concord of my state and time
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me;
For now hath time made me his numbering clock:
My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar
Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is
Are clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groans
Show minutes, times, and hours: but my time
Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy,
While I stand fooling here, his Jack o' the clock.
This music mads me; let it sound no more;
For though it have holp madmen to their wits,
In me it seems it will make wise men mad.
Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me!
For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard
Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.
Enter a Groom of the Stable

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