70 likes | 376 Views
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 feared and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
E N 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 feared and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable, and humoured thus Comes at the last and with a little pin Bores though his castle wall – and farewell king. Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence. Throw away respect, Tradition, form and ceremonious duty. For you have but mistook me all this while, I live with bread like you, feel want, Taste grief, need friends. Subjected thus, How can you say to me I am a king? -- Richard II, 3.2.160-177
In this passage, Richard laments his ill fortune after hearing news that the citizens have risen up against him. He constructs an elaborate image of a court inside the King’s head that includes and is ultimately controlled by a personified death.
This intricate conceit is created through a complicated speech that describes a series of transformations. The first involves turning the private inner space of the king – the space “within the hollow crown / that rounds the mortal temples of a king” into the exterior public space of the “court.” The second transformation involves describing “the flesh which walls our life” as“brass impregnable,” and the third involves describing the worldly power of the king in theatrical language as “a little scene” that is dominated not by the monarch but by “the antic.”
These reversals are all ultimately undermined however, as death – the court antic –overcomes the king when he “with a little pin / Bores through his castle wall – and farewell king.” This second reversal does not undo transformations but further undermines the order of the land, leading ultimately to a state of complete crisis, in which “respect, / Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty” are all discarded.
Richard’s final rhetorical question – “Subjected thus / How can you say to me I am a king” – indicates the ultimate stakes of these reversals. In a country where a king can be subjected, a subject can become king. Bolingbroke’s rebellion threatens to undermine the “tradition, form, and ceremonious duty” on which the state is predicated, and will reduce kingship to theatre, allow brass impregnable to be penetrated by a pin, and will turn the king from “The deputy elected by the lord” (57) to a man who “[feels] want, / [tastes] grief, [needs] friends.” Richard’s highly symbolic and metaphorical language systematically elaborates the symbolic consequences of undermining his position as king while giving tacit recognition to the political reality of his position.