AUMERLE      Comfort, my liege, remember who you are.

RICHARD        I had forgot myself. Am I not king?

Awake, thou sluggard majesty, thou sleep’st.

Is not the king’s name twenty thousand names?

Arm, arm, my name!  A puny subject strikes

At thy great glory. Look not to the ground,

Ye favourites of a king. Are we not high?

High be our thoughts. I know my uncle York

Hath power enough to serve our turn.

Enter Scroop

But who comes here?           (3.2.82-90)

Aumerle is nothing if not persistent—Comfort, my liege, he tries again. But this time he gets it right: remember who you are. On the page one has to wonder if Richard’s being ironic, but it seems not; he really does believe that his identity as king is the most important thing, the trump card. (It seems wrong that that is still a meaningful idiom. However.) And so Richard rebukes himself: I had forgot myself. Am I not king? A temporary aberration, as if I’d dozed off (awake, thou sluggard, lazy, lie-abed majesty, thou sleepst). Is not the king’s name twenty thousand names? Arm, arm, my name! (Surely this could be played with an awareness of its absurdity?) The fact of his kingship counts, Richard argues (whether ironically or not) for more than that army (of whatever size, whether it’s twelve thousand men or twenty thousand) which has just deserted him. And, moreover, the insult of Bolingbroke’s rebellion is specifically an insult to Richard’s sovereignty, a puny subject getting above himself, striking at thy great glory. Don’t be downcast; look not to the ground, ye favourites of a king. Are we not high? High in birth and rank, so therefore, high be our thoughts, our spirits; we should be optimistic, of good cheer, high-minded. (The sun re-emerges from the clouds.) And Richard’s thought of something: I know my uncle York hath power enough to serve our turn. York’ll have troops, plenty of troops, enough to give us the edge, to deal with Bolingbroke.

But who comes here? (This never bodes well…)