Richard III

Richard
Have done thy charm, thou hateful, withered hag.
Queen Margaret
And leave out thee? Stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me.
If heaven have any grievous plague in store
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe
And then hurl down their indignation
On thee,
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Queen Elizabeth, to Queen Margaret
Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself.
Queen Margaret
Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune,
Why strew’st thou sugar on that bottled spider,
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?
Fool, fool, thou whet’st a knife to kill thyself.
The day will come that thou shalt wish for me
To help thee curse this poisonous bunch-backed toad.
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Queen Margaret
O princely Buckingham, I’ll kiss thy hand
In sign of league and amity with thee.
Now fair befall thee and thy noble house!
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,
Nor thou within the compass of my curse.
Buckingham
Nor no one here, for curses never pass
The lips of those that breathe them in the air.
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Richard
I do the wrong and first begin to brawl.
The secret mischiefs that I set abroach
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.

And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With odd old ends stol’n forth of Holy Writ,
And seem a saint when most I play the devil.

Clarence, who I indeed have cast in darkness,
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Keeper
What was your dream, my lord? I pray you tell me.
Clarence
Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower
And was embarked to cross to Burgundy,
And in my company my brother Gloucester,
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches. Thence we looked toward England
And cited up a thousand heavy times,
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Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours,
Makes the night morning, and the noontide night.
Princes have but their titles for their glories,
An outward honor for an inward toil,
And, for unfelt imaginations,
They often feel a world of restless cares,
So that between their titles and low name
There’s nothing differs but the outward fame.
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First Murderer
How dost thou feel thyself now?
Second Murderer
Faith, some certain dregs of conscience
are yet within me.
First Murderer
Remember our reward when the
deed’s done.
Second Murderer
Zounds, he dies! I had forgot the reward.
First Murderer
Where’s thy conscience now?
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King Edward
Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league
With thy embracements to my wife’s allies
And make me happy in your unity.
Buckingham, to Queen Elizabeth
Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate
Upon your Grace, but with all duteous love
Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me
With hate in those where I expect most love.
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King Edward
Is Clarence dead? The order was reversed.
Richard
But he, poor man, by your first order died,
And that a wingèd Mercury did bear.
Some tardy cripple bare the countermand,
That came too lag to see him burièd.
God grant that some, less noble and less loyal,
Nearer in bloody thoughts,
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King Edward
Have I a tongue to doom my brother’s death,
And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave?
My brother killed no man; his fault was thought,
And yet his punishment was bitter death.
Who sued to me for him? Who, in my wrath,
Kneeled at my feet, and bade me be advised?
Who spoke of brotherhood?
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