KING RICHARD III.

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York,
And all the clouds that lower'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled
front.

Act i. Sc. 1.

I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them,
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time.

Act i. Sc. I.

To leave this keen encounter of our wits.

Acti. Sc. 2.

Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?
Was ever woman in this humour won?

Framed in the prodigality of nature.

Act i. Sc. 2.

Act i. Sc. 2.

King Richard III. continued.]

And thus I clothe my naked villany

With old odd ends, stol'n out of holy writ,
And seem a saint, when most I play the Devil.
Act i. Sc. 3.

O, I have pass'd a miserable night,
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,
That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night,
Though 't were to buy a world of happy days.
Act i. Sc. 4.

O Lord, methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears!
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes!
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wracks;
A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,

All scattered in the bottom of the sea:

Some lay in dead men's skulls; and in those holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As 't were in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems.
Act i. Sc. 4.

So wise so young, they say, do ne'er live long.

Off with his head ! 2

Act iii. Sc I.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast;

Ready with every nod to tumble down.

1 'stol'n forth,' White, Knight.

2 Cf. Cibber, p. 248.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

[King Richard III. continued.

Even in the afternoon of her best days.

Act iii. Sc. 7.

Thou troublest me: I am not in the vein.

Act iv. Sc. 2.

Their lips were four red roses on a stalk.

Act iv. Sc. 3.

The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom.

Act iv. Sc. 3.

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women

Rail on the Lord's anointed.

Act iv. Sc. 4.

Tetchy and wayward.

Act iv. Sc. 4.

An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told.

Act iv. Sc. 4.

Thus far into the bowels of the land
Have we march'd on without impediment.

Act v. Sc. 2.

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings; Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.

Act v. Sc. 2.

The king's name is a tower of strength.'

Act v. Sc. 3.

O, coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!
Act v. Sc. 3.

My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a villain.

Act v. Sc. 3.

1 The name of the Lord is a strong tower.

Prov. xviii. 10.

King Richard III. continued.]

By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night

Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers.

Act v. Sc. 3.

The self-same heaven

That frowns on me looks sadly upon him.

Act v. Sc. 3.

A thing devised by the enemy.1

Act v. Sc. 3.

A horse! a horse! My kingdom for a horse! Act v. Sc. 4.

I have set my life upon a cast,

And I will stand the hazard of the die.

I think there be six Richmonds in the field.

I swear, 't is better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content,
Than to be perk'd up in a glist'ring grief,
And wear a golden sorrow.

1 Cf. Cibber, p. 249.

Act ii. Sc. 3.

2 Cf. Spenser, Faerie Queene, Book i. Ch. i. St. 37, and Massinger A New Way to Pay Old Debts, Act iv. Sc. 2.

[King Henry VIII. continued.

And then to breakfast, with

What appetite you have.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

I have touch'd the highest point of all my great

ness,

And from that full meridian of my glory,

I haste now to my setting: I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.

Press not a falling man too far.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him: The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye;
I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours!
There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.

And sleep in dull, cold marble.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

I charge thee, fling away ambition : By that sin fell the angels.

Act iii. Sc. 2.