Richard:

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.

First Folio

Richard II: Act V, Scene v; First Folio

Richard II Act 5, Scene 5 Richard II
(This text is featured in our interview with Curt L. Tofteland)
1. I haue bin studying, how to compare
2. This Prison where I liue, vnto the World:
3. And for because the world is populous,
4. And heere is not a Creature, but my selfe,
5. I cannot do it: yet Ile hammer’t out.
6. My Braine, Ile proue the Female to my Soule,
7. My Soule, the Father: and these two beget
8. A generation of still breeding Thoughts;
9. And these same Thoughts, people this Little World
10. In humors, like the people of this world,
11. For no thought is contented. The better sort,
12. As thoughts of things Diuine, are intermixt
13. With scruples, and do set the Faith it selfe
14. Against the Faith: as thus: Come litle ones: & then again,
15. It is as hard to come, as for a Camell
16. To thred the posterne of a Needles eye.
17. Thoughts tending to Ambition, they do plot
18. Vnlikely wonders; how these vaine weake nailes
19. May teare a passage through the Flinty ribbes
20. Of this hard world, my ragged prison walles:
21. And for they cannot, dye in their owne pride.
22. Thoughts tending to Content, flatter themselues,
23. That they are not the first of Fortunes slaues,
24. Nor shall not be the last. Like silly Beggars,
25. Who sitting in the Stockes, refuge their shame
26. That many haue, and others must sit there;
27. And in this Thought, they finde a kind of ease,
28. Bearing their owne misfortune on the backe
29. Of such as haue before indur’d the like.
30. Thus play I in one Prison, many people,
31. And none contented. Sometimes am I King;
32. Then Treason makes me wish my selfe a Beggar,
 33. And so I am. Then crushing penurie,
34. Perswades me, I was better when a King:
35. Then am I king’d againe: and by and by,
36. Thinke that I am vn-king’d by Bullingbrooke,
37. And straight am nothing. But what ere I am, Musick
38. Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,
39. With nothing shall be pleas’d, till he be eas’d
40. With being nothing. Musicke do I heare?
41. Ha, ha? keepe time: How sowre sweet Musicke is,
42. When Time is broke, and no Proportion kept?
43. So is it in the Musicke of mens liues:
44. And heere haue I the daintinesse of eare,
45. To heare time broke in a disorder’d string:
46. But for the Concord of my State and Time,
47. Had not an eare to heare my true Time broke.
48. I wasted Time, and now doth Time waste me:
49. For now hath Time made me his numbring clocke;
50. My Thoughts, are minutes; and with Sighes they iarre,
51. Their watches on vnto mine eyes, the outward Watch,
52. Whereto my finger, like a Dialls point,
53. Is pointing still, in cleansing them from teares.
54. Now sir, the sound that tels what houre it is,
55. Are clamorous groanes, that strike vpon my heart,
56. Which is the bell: so Sighes, and Teares, and Grones,
57. Shew Minutes, Houres, and Times: but my Time
58. Runs poasting on, in Bullingbrookes proud ioy,
59. While I stand fooling heere, his iacke o’th’ Clocke.
60. This Musicke mads me, let it sound no more,
61. For though it haue holpe madmen to their wits,
62. In me it seemes, it will make wise-men mad:
63. Yet blessing on his heart that giues it me;
64. For ’tis a signe of loue, and loue to Richard,
65. Is a strange Brooch, in this all-hating world.