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.
I wasted time, and now time wastes me; For now time has made me its ticking clock: My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they strike Their clocks against my eyes, the external watch, To which my finger, like a clock's hand, Continues pointing, wiping away my tears.
King Richard II · Act 5, Scene 5
Richard, imprisoned and dying, realizes that time has become his tormentor—his very heartbeat and tears are now the mechanisms of a clock counting him toward death. The line carries the play's deepest meditation on mortality: Richard once wasted time with flattery and inaction, and now time itself has become his punishment, measuring out his remaining hours.
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:
In this way, I play many roles in one body, And none are happy: sometimes I am king; Then, when treason strikes, I wish I were a beggar, And in that case, I am: then crushing poverty Makes me think I was better off as king; Then I am king again:
King Richard II · Act 5, Scene 5
Locked in Pomfret Castle, awaiting death, Richard sits alone and discovers that identity itself is a theatrical illusion. He cycles rapidly through being king and beggar, understanding that neither state satisfies him. This line, spoken to no one, reveals that Richard's real tragedy is not the loss of the crown but the discovery that the self is fluid, unstable, and ultimately nothing.
As full of valour as of royal blood: Both have I spill’d; O would the deed were good! For now the devil, that told me I did well, Says that this deed is chronicled in hell. This dead king to the living king I’ll bear Take hence the rest, and give them burial here.
As full of courage as of royal blood: Both have I spilled; I wish the act had been for good! For now the devil, who told me I did right, Says that this action is recorded in hell. This dead king I’ll take to the living king Take the rest away, and bury them here.
Sir Pierce of Exton · Act 5, Scene 5
Exton arrives at the new king's court with Richard's body, expecting reward, and instead receives exile and damnation. The line lands because Exton himself becomes the conscience of the play—he has done what the king wished, but in doing it, he has made Henry's reign bloody and illegitimate. Henry's horror at the deed reveals the gulf between wishing someone dead and having the blood on your hands.