Is not the king's name forty thousand names? Enter SCROop. Scroop. More health and happiness betide my liege, Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him. 6 K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart pre par'd; The worst is worldly loss, thou canst unfold. Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we? Like an unseasonable stormy day, Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, 6 Mine ear is open, &c.] It seems to be the design of the poet to raise Richard to esteem in his fall, and consequently to interest the reader in his favour. He gives him only passive fortitude, the virtue of a confessor, rather than of a king. In his prosperity we saw him imperious and oppressive; but in his distress he is wise, patient, and pious. JOHNSON. VOL. V. N With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel. White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps Against thy majesty; boys, with women's voices, Where is the earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? I warrant, they have made peace with Bolingbroke. Scroop. Peace have they made with him, indeed, my lord. ' K. Rich. Ó villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption! Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man! Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart! Three Judasses, each one thrice worse than Judas! Would they make peace? terrible hell make war Upon their spotted souls for this offence! Scroop. Sweet love, I see, changing his property, 7 Of double-fatal yew-] From some of the ancient statutes it appears that every Englishman, while archery was practised, was obliged to keep in his house either a bow of yew or some other wood. It should seem therefore that yews were not only planted in church-yards to defend the churches from the wind, but on account of their use in making bows; while by the benefit of being secured in enclosed places, their poisonous quality was kept from. doing mischief to cattle. STEEVENS. Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate: Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made With heads, and not with hands: those whom you curse, Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound, Scroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their heads. Aum. Where is the duke my father with his power? K. Rich. No matter where; of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; there the antick sits,] Here is an allusion to the antick or fool of old farces, whose chief part is to deride and disturb the graver and more splendid personages. JOHNSON. To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks; Bores through his castle wall, and-farewell king! How can you say to me—I am a king? Car. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their present woes, But presently prevent the ways to wail. Aum. My father hath a power, enquire of him; And learn to make a body of a limb. K. Rich. Thou chid'st me well:-Proud Boling- To change blows with thee for our day of doom. An easy task it is, to win our own. Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power? So may you by my dull and heavy eye, 9 Tradition,] This word seems here used for traditional practices: that is, established, or customary homage. I play the torturer, by small and small, To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken:Your uncle York hath join'd with Bolingbroke; And all your northern castles yielded up, And all your southern gentlemen in arms Upon his party. K. Rich. Thou hast said enough. Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth Of that sweet way I was in to despair! [TO AUMERLE. What say you now? What comfort have we now? Aum. My liege, one word. 1 I'll hate him everlastingly, That bids me be of comfort-] This sentiment is drawn from nature. Nothing is more offensive to a mind convinced that its distress is without a remedy, and preparing to submit quietly to irresistible calamity, than these petty and conjectured comforts which unskilful officiousness thinks it virtue to administer. 2 To ear i. e. to plough it. |