[200] I shall despair. There is no creature loves me;
And if I die, no soul shall pity me:
[♦] Nay, wherefore should they, since that I myself
Find in myself no pity to myself?
[♦] Methought the souls of all that I had murder’d
[205] Came to my tent, and every one did threat
To-morrow’s vengeance on the head of Richard.
Enter RATCLIFF.
Rat. My lord!
[♦] K. Rich. ’Zounds! who is there?