Richard III
Important Quotations Explained
1. Now
is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious
summer by this son of York;
And all the clouds
that loured upon our house
In the deep bosom
of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound
with victorious wreaths,
Our stern alarums
changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches
to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath
smoothed his wrinkled front,
. . .
He
capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber
To the lascivious
pleasing of a lute.
But I, that am not shaped
for sportive tricks
Nor made to court an amorous
looking-glass;
. . .
Why,
I in this weak piping time of peace
Have no
delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy
my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own
deformity.
And therefore since I cannot prove
a lover
To entertain these fair well-spoken
days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And
hate the idle pleasures of these days.
(I.i.1–40)
2. Thy
friends suspect for traitors while thou liv’st,
And
take deep traitors for thy dearest friends.
No
sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless
it be while some tormenting dream
Affrights
thee with a hell of ugly devils.
Thou elvish-marked,
abortive, rooting hog,
Thou that wast sealed
in thy nativity
The slave of nature and the
son of hell.
Thou slander of thy heavy mother’s
womb.
Thou loathèd issue of thy father’s loins.
Thou
rag of honour, thou detested—
(I.iii.220–230)
3. Methoughts
that I had broken from the Tower,
And was
embarked to cross to Burgundy,
And in my company
my brother Gloucester,
. . .
Methought
that Gloucester stumbled, and in falling
Struck
me—that thought to stay him—overboard
Into
the tumbling billows of the main.
(I.iv.9–20)
4. 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.
Bett’ring
thy loss makes the bad causer worse.
Revolving
this will teach thee how to curse.
(IV.iv.118–123)
5. The
lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight.
Cold
fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.
What
do I fear? Myself? There’s none else by.
Richard
loves Richard; that is, I am I.
Is there a
murderer here? No. Yes, I am.
Then fly! What,
from myself? Great reason. Why:
Lest I revenge.
Myself upon myself?
Alack, I love myself.
Wherefore? For any good
That I myself have
done unto myself?
O no, alas, I rather hate
myself
For hateful deeds committed by myself.
I
am a villain.
(V.v.134–145)
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