[_Dashes the glass against the ground._[1618][1678][1680] For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers.[1618][1678][1681] Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport,[1618][1678][1682] 290 How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face.[1618] _Boling._ The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd[1618] The shadow of your face.[1618] _K. Rich._ Say that again.[1618][1683] The shadow of my sorrow! ha! let's see:[1618][1683] 'Tis very true, my grief lies all within;[1618][1683] 295 And these external manners of laments[1618][1683][1684] Are merely shadows to the unseen grief,[1618][1683] That swells with silence in the tortured soul;[1618][1683] There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king,[1618][1685] For thy great bounty, that not only givest[1618][1686] 300 Me cause to wail but teachest me the way[1618] How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon,[1618] And then be gone and trouble you no more.[1618] Shall I obtain it?[1618] _Boling._ Name it, fair cousin.[1618][1687] _K. Rich._ 'Fair cousin'? I am greater than a king:[1618][1688] 305 For when I was a king, my flatterers[1618][1689] Were then but subjects; being now a subject,[1618][1689] I have a king here to my flatterer.[1618][1689] Being so great, I have no need to beg.[1618][1689] _Boling._ Yet ask.[1618] 310 _K. Rich._ And shall I have?[1618][1690] _Boling._ You shall.[1618][1691] _K. Rich._ Then give me leave to go.[1618][1692] _Boling._ Whither?[1618] _K. Rich._ Whither you will, so I were from your sights.[1618][1693] 315 _Boling._ Go, some of you convey him to the Tower.[1618] _K. Rich._ O, good! convey? conveyers are you all,[1618][1694][1695] That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.[1694][1696] [_Exeunt King Richard, some Lords, and a Guard._ _Boling._ On Wednesday next we solemnly set down[1697] Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves.[1697] 320 [_Exeunt all except the Bishop of Carlisle, the Abbot of Westminster, and Aumerle._[1698] _Abbot._ A woeful pageant have we here beheld.[1699] _Car._ The woe's to come; the children yet unborn[1700] 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? 325