Hark and lend a goodly ear, fair reader. Our own King Richard II, as England's second Richard before him, hath engender'd crimes most foul against his loyal subjects, being of fork-tongue and wallowing in deepest damnation -- wouldst thou believe serv'd ill by the Lords Haldeman, Ehrlichman, Kissinger, and Sir John Dean? (""As King I couldn't absorb myself/ In menial work, when populations close/ And far summoned me to fight/ For peace with honor."") Alas, in this saucy entertainment, Bard Myers' four-act parody (O Shakespeare! O MacBird! Thou worthy models!), our Richard is replac'd, sent forsooth to ignominious exile in a Clangbird (methinks an airplane), ""an amazing thing. It flies/ An automatic course./ It spirals ever higher,/ And in tighter rings, until it disappears/ Through that wild flight into its ass!"" O Princess Tricia! O Queen Pat! The pity of it! ""I wore frayed cuffs and you a good cloth coat./ We've worked hard, Pat, we earned the money, not/ For mean or selfish use. Yet they would rob,/ Despoil the hive, remove the honey, yet/ Have we not made sweet our lives by like industry?"" But stay! Whom doth this modern bard Myers, publish'r of the New Republic, proclaim as his fiery Bolingbroke, the usurper? Yes, this true, none other but Duke Agnew, aided by perfidious Sir George of Bush and Sir Charles of Percy. Hoopjug!