Cha. You resign
The crown to me?
Vic. And time enough, Charles, sure?
Confess with me, at four-and-sixty years
A crown 's a load. I covet quiet once
Before I die, and summoned you for that.
Cha. 'T is I will speak: you ever hated me,
I bore it,—have insulted me, borne too—
Now you insult yourself; and I remember
What I believed you, what you really are,