Now mark me, how I will undo myself; I give this heavy weight from off my head, And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand, The pride of kingly sway from out my heart; With mine own tears I wash away my balm, With mine own hands I give away my crown, With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, With mine own breath release all duty's rites:
Now watch me as I undo myself; I take this heavy weight off my head And this awkward scepter from my hand, The pride of royal power from my heart; With my own tears, I wash away my crown, With my own hands, I give away my crown, With my own words, I deny my royal state, With my own breath, I release all duties:
King Richard II · Act 4, Scene 1
Richard stands in Westminster Hall and performs his own deposition, narrating each step as if watching himself from outside. This moment defines him: he cannot simply lose the crown, he must make poetry of losing it. The line matters because it shows a man who has lost all political power discovering that he can still command language—and for the rest of the play, language becomes his only kingdom.
For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings; How some have been deposed; some slain in war, Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed; Some poison'd by their wives: some sleeping kill'd; All murder'd: for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp, Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life, Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus Comes at the last and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
For God's sake, let's sit on the ground And tell sad stories about the death of kings; How some have been overthrown; some killed in battle, Some haunted by the ghosts of those they deposed; Some poisoned by their wives; some killed in their sleep; All murdered: because within the hollow crown That circles the mortal head of a king Death keeps court, and the fool sits there, Mocking his state and grinning at his power, Allowing him only a brief moment to rule, To be feared and kill with a glance, Filling him with arrogance and pride, As if this flesh that surrounds our life Were made of solid brass, unbreakable, But in the end, a tiny pin Pierces the castle walls, and the king falls!
King Richard II · Act 3, Scene 2
Richard, stripped of his army and his throne within hours, sits down in despair and speaks as if he has become a philosopher. The speech endures because it moves from political loss to something universal: all kings die, all crowns are hollow, all flesh is temporary. In losing everything, Richard discovers the one thing no usurper can take—the ability to speak truth about the human condition.
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.
What must the king do now? must he submit? The king shall do it: must he be deposed? The king shall be contented: must he lose The name of king? o' God's name, let it go:
What must the king do now? Must he submit? The king shall do it: must he be deposed? The king will accept it: must he lose The title of king? For God's sake, let it go:
King Richard II · Act 3, Scene 3
Standing before Bolingbroke with no army left, Richard speaks to himself as if he were a third party, detaching from his own tragedy. He rehearses the logic of defeat: submit, be deposed, lose his name—each acceptance leading to the next with the inevitability of a cascade. The line shows Richard beginning to transform his loss into theatrical performance.
