King Richard -
A flourish, trumpets! strike alarum, drums!
Let not these tell-tale women
Rail on the Lord's anointed. Strike, I say!
Either be patient and entreat me fair,
Or with the clamourous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.
Duchess of York -
O, let me speak!
K. Rich -
Do then, but I'll not hear.
Duchess -
I will be mild and gentle in my words.
K. Rich -
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.
K. Rich -
And came I not at last to comfort you?
Duchess -
No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well,
Thou came on earth to make the earth my hell.
A grievous burthen was thy birth to me,
Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;
Thy school-days frightful, desp'rate, wild , and furious,
The prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous;
Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody,
More mild, but yet more harmful - kind in hatred.
What comfortable hour canst thou name
That ever grac'd me with thy company?
Richard III, IV. iv.
And let Cindy (and all who support her) stay until His Majesty cries for a horse...
And let Cindy (and all who support her) stay until His Majesty cries for a horse...
1 comment:
Thank you. Don't mind at all. Now I know where to go for the mysteries of Irish-Gaelic spelling, too.
It's funny, but I was trawling for another scene, in another play, and it didn't work, and then this one bit my butt. I hope that Winter of Discontent for Dear Leader comes all too swiftly.
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