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    RICHARD III

    A monologue from the play by William Shakespeare


    RICHARD: 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.
    A grandam's name is little less in love
    Than is the doting title of a mother;
    They are as children but one step below,
    Even of your metal, of your very blood,
    Of all one pain, save for a night of groans
    Endured of her for whom you bid like sorrow:
    Your children were vexation to your youth,
    But mine shall be a comfort to your age.
    The loss you have is but a son being king,
    And by that loss your daughter is made queen.
    I cannot make you what amends I would;
    Therefore accept such kindness as I can.
    Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul
    Leads discontented steps in foreign soil,
    This fair alliance quickly shall call home
    To high promotions and great dignity.
    The king, that calls your beauteous daughter wife,
    Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother:
    Again shall you be mother to a king,
    And all the ruins of distressful times
    Repaired with double riches of content.
    What! we have many goodly days to see:
    The liquid drops of tears that you have shed
    Shall come again, transformed to orient pearl,
    Advantaging their love with interest
    Of ten times double gain of happiness.
    Go then, my mother; to thy daughter go;
    Make bold her bashful years with your experience;
    Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale;
    Put in her tender heart th' aspiring flame
    Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess
    With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys;
    And when this arm of mine hath chastisèd
    The petty rebel, dull-brained Buckingham,
    Bound with triumphant garlands will I come
    And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed;
    To whom I will retail my conquest won,
    And she shall be sole victoress, Caesar's Caesar.

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