OLIVER: Richard, Richard, Richard, Richard!
RICHARD: Who calls Richard? ’Tis a hallow voice, and yet perhaps it may be mine own thoughts.
OLIVER: No, ’tis thy father risen from the grave,
Nor would I have thee fooled, or yet turn knave.
RICHARD: I could not help it father, they outwitted my proceedings.
OLIVER: Did not I leave the government to thee?
RICHARD: Father, they put me on it to agree,
To keep the nation quiet.
OLIVER: Not meaning thou shouldst rule long.
RICHARD: I never desired it.
OLIVER: Then thou wast not ambitious of honour.
RICHARD: No, honour is but a bauble,
And to keep it is but a trouble,
Only they that be well descended,
They shall ever be commended, and befriended,
OLIVER: What doest thou tell me of that, we have won all by the sword, and so we’ll keep it.
RICHARD: What, whether we can or no.
OLIVER: ’Tis true, Dick, I must confess I have been somewhat ambitious of honour thou knowest, now I commend thy modesty all this while[.]
