Richard: Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that glower'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 changed to merry meetings, our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim vised war has smoothed his wrinkled front And now instead of mounting barbed steeds to fright the souls of fearful adversaries 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, I that am rudely stamped and want love's majesty to strut before a wanton ambling nymph, I that am curtailed of fair proportion, cheated of feature by dissembling nature deformed, unfinished, sent before my time into breathing world scarce half made up and so lamely and unfashionable that dogs do bark at me as I halt by them... Richard III: Look how my ring encompasseth thy finger. Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart. Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. Richard III: Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass; that I may see my shadow as I pass. Richard III: Conscience is a word that cowards use. Richard III: A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse! George, Duke of Clarence: [speaking about Edward IV, who has sent Clarence to the Tower] He hearkens after dreams and prophecies / And from the crossrow plucks the letter 'G', / And says a wizard told him that by 'G' / His issue disinherited would be. / And for my name of George begins with G / It follows in his thoughts that I am he. /These and such like toys /Have moved his Highness to commit me now. Richard III: Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine? Tyrell: Please you, but I'd rather kill two enemies. Dighton, 1st murderer: Talkers are no good doers. The Lord Hastings: The cat, the rat, and Lovell the dog / Rule all England under the hog.