Richard was sitting in the Library, a typical night before auditions. As always , he sits like a King , having impersonated his roles of tyrants and Leaders a long time ago. He was a prodigy , Gwendolyn's favorite and certaintly not hated ny Frederick. He was sure of himself and the success the year will bring. The clock on the Mantel of the fireplace strikes twelve and Richard speaks up. "Tis now dead midnight," and tommorrow by 8 am we'll have to be immortal.