Committed by your person, and your followers, K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel out Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop, : And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,- North. My lord, despatch; read o'er these articles. K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, insulting man, Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title,— Good king,-great king,-(and yet not greatly good,) Boling. Go some of you, and fetch a looking-glass. [Exit an Attendant. North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth come. K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me ère I come to hell. Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland. North. The commons will not then be satisfied. K. Rich. They shall be satisfied: I'll read enough, When I do see the very book indeed Where all my sins are writ, and that's-myself. Re-enter Attendant, with a Glass. Give me that glass, and therein will I read.— And made no deeper wounds!-O, flattering glass, Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face, That every day under his household roof Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face, As brittle as the glory is the face; [Dashes the glass against the ground. For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers.- Boling. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd The shadow of your face. K. Rich. Say that again. The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let's see :'Tis very true, my grief lies all within; And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief, Boling. Name it, fair cousin. K. Rich. Fair cousin? Why, I am greater than a king: For, when I was a king, my flatterers Were then but subjects; being now a subject, I have a king here to my flatterer. Being so great, I have no need to beg. Boling. Yet ask. K. Rich. And shall I have? Boling. You shall. K. Rich. Then give me leave to go. Boling. Whither? K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your sights. Boling. Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower. K. Rich. O, good! Convey?-Conveyers are you all, That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. [Exeunt King RICHARD, some Lords, and a Guard. Boling. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set down Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves. [Exeunt all but the Abbot, Bishop of CARLISLE, and AUMERLE. Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. Car. The woe's to come; the children yet unborn Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot To rid the realm of this pernicious blot? Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein, You shall not only take the sacrament To bury mine intents, but to effect Whatever I shall happen to devise :I see your brows are full of discontent, Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears; Come home with me to supper; I will lay A plot, shall show us all a merry day. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I.-London. A Street leading to the Tower. Enter Queen, and Ladies. Queen. This way the king will come; this is the way To Julius Cæsar's ill-erected tower, To whose flint bosom my condemned lord Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke: Enter KING RICHARD, and Guards. But soft, but see, or rather do not see, And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.— K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul, To think our former state a happy dream; |