The cares I give, I have, though given away; be; Therefore no no, for I resign to thee. 8 My manors, rents, revenues, I forego; North. No more, but that you read These accusations, and these grievous crimes, to say here, that his cares are not made less by the increase of Bolingbroke's cares; for this reason, that his care is the loss of care, -his grief is, that his regal cares are at an end, by the cessation of the care to which he had been accustomed. JOHNSON. 8 my balm,] The oil of consecration. He has mentioned it before. JOHNSON. That, by confessing them, the souls of men 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,Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven: Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon me, And water cannot wash away your sin. North. My lord, despatch; read o'er these articles. K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see: And yet salt water blinds them not so much, But they can see a sort of traitors here. Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, I find myself a traitor with the rest: For I have given here my soul's consent, To undeck the pompous body of a king; Make glory base; and sovereignty, a slave; Proud majesty, a subject; state, a peasant. North. My lord, K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught,' insult ing man, Nor no man's lord; I have no namie, no title,— 1 a sort-] A pack, a company. WARBURTON. That I have worn so many winters out, Good king,-great king,-(and yet not greatly good,) An if Boling. Go some of you, and fetch a looking[Exit an Attendant. North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth glass. come. K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me ere I come to hell. Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumber land. 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, 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.Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport,How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face. 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, That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul; There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king, For thy great bounty, that hot only giv'st Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon, And then be gone, and trouble you no more. Shall I obtain it? 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, Being so great, I have no need to beg. 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,2 That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. [Exeunt K. 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 3 Whatever I shall happen to devise:- ACT V. [Exeunt. SCENE I. London: A Street leading to the Tower. Enter Queen, and Ladies. Queen. This way the king will come; this is the way Conveyers are you all,] To convey is a term often used in an ill sense, and so Richard understands it here. Pistol says of stealing, convey the wise it call; and to convey is the word for sleight of hand, which seems to be alluded to here. Ye are all, says the deposed prince, jugglers, who rise with this nimble dexterity by the fall of a good king. JOHNSON. To bury- To conceal, to keep secret. |