Richard III

Queen Elizabeth
O, thou well-skilled in curses, stay awhile,
And teach me how to curse mine enemies.
Queen Margaret
Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the days;
Compare dead happiness with living woe;
Think that thy babes were sweeter than they were,
And he that slew them fouler than he is.
Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse.
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Duchess
O, let me speak!
Richard
Do then, but I’ll not hear.
Duchess
I will be mild and gentle in my words.
Richard
And brief, good mother, for I am in haste.
Duchess
Art thou so hasty? I have stayed for thee,
God knows, in torment and in agony.
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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,
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Look what is done cannot be now amended.
Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,
Which after-hours gives leisure to repent.
If I did take the kingdom from your sons,
To make amends I’ll give it to your daughter.
If I have killed the issue of your womb,
To quicken your increase I will beget
Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter.
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Queen Elizabeth
What were I best to say? Her father’s brother
Would be her lord? Or shall I say her uncle?
Or he that slew her brothers and her uncles?
Under what title shall I woo for thee,
That God, the law, my honor, and her love
Can make seem pleasing to her tender years?
Richard
Infer fair England’s peace by this alliance.
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Richard
As I intend to prosper and repent,
So thrive I in my dangerous affairs
Of hostile arms! Myself myself confound,
Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours,
Day, yield me not thy light, nor night thy rest,
Be opposite all planets of good luck
To my proceeding if, with dear heart’s love,
Immaculate devotion,
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First Messenger
My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire,
As I by friends am well advertisèd,
Sir Edward Courtney and the haughty prelate,
Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother,
With many more confederates are in arms.
   Enter another Messenger.
Second Messenger
In Kent, my liege, the Guilfords are in arms,
And every hour more competitors
Flock to the rebels,
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Richmond
Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends,
Bruised underneath the yoke of tyranny,
Thus far into the bowels of the land
Have we marched on without impediment,
And here receive we from our father Stanley
Lines of fair comfort and encouragement.

Every man’s conscience is a thousand men
To fight against this guilty homicide.
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Give me another horse! Bind up my wounds!
Have mercy, Jesu!—Soft, I did but dream.
O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!Apostrophe & Alliteration
The lights burn blue; it is now dead midnight.
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.Transferred Epithet
What do I fear? Myself? There’s none else by.
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Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge.
Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls.
Conscience is but a word that cowards use,
Devised at first to keep the strong in awe.
Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law.

Conscience is but a word that cowards use,
Devised at first to keep the strong in awe.
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