All unavoided is the doom of destiny

Richard
All unavoided is the doom of destiny.
Queen Elizabeth
True, when avoided grace makes destiny.
My babes were destined to a fairer death
If grace had blessed thee with a fairer life.
Richard
You speak as if that I had slain my cousins.

No doubt the murd’rous knife was dull and blunt
Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
To revel in the entrails of my lambs.

Queen Elizabeth
Cousins, indeed, and by their uncle cozened
Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hand soever launched their tender hearts,
Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction.
No doubt the murd’rous knife was dull and blunt
Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
To revel in the entrails of my lambs.
But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame,
My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys
Till that my nails were anchored in thine eyes,
And I, in such a desp’rate bay of death,
Like a poor bark of sails and tackling reft,
Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.