'K. Rich'. Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not, That when the searching eye of heaven is hid Behind the globe, and lights the lower world, Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen, In murders and in outrage, bloody here; But when, from under this terrestrial ball, He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines, And darts his light through every guilty hole, Then murders, treasons, and detested sins, The cloke of night being pluckt from off their backs, Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke, &c. ... 'Aumerle'. 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, Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth, &c. ... 'Aumerle'. 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 Bolingbroke, I come To change blows with thee for our day of doom. This ague-fit of fear is over-blown; An easy task it is to win our own. ... 'Scroop'. Your uncle York hath join'd with Bolingbroke.-- ... 'K. Rich'. Thou hast said enough, Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth Of that sweet way I was in to despair! What say you now? what comfort have we now? By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly, That bids me be of comfort any more. ... Act iii. sc. 3. Bolingbroke's speech:-- Noble lord, Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle, &c. Observe the fine struggle of a haughty sense of power and ambition in Bolingbroke with the necessity for dissimulation. 'Ib.' sc. 4. See here the skill and judgment of our poet in giving reality and individual life, by the introduction of accidents in his historic plays, and thereby making them dramas, and not histories. How beautiful an islet of repose--a melancholy repose, indeed--is this scene with the Gardener and his Servant. And how truly affecting and realizing is the incident of the very horse Barbary, in the scene with the Groom in the last act!-- 'Groom'. I was a poor groom of thy stable, King, When thou wert King; who, travelling towards York, With much ado, at length have gotten leave To look upon my sometime master's face. O, how it yearn'd my heart, when I beheld, In London streets, that coronation day, When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary! That horse, that thou so often hast bestrid; That horse, that I so carefully have dress'd! 'K. Rich'. Rode he on Barbary?