King Richard Iii Essay Paper Example For Students

King Richard Iii Essay Paper A monologue from the play by William ShakespeareQUEEN MARGARET: If ancient sorrow be most reverent,Give mine the benefit of senioryAnd let my griefs frown on the upper hand.If sorrow can admit society,Tell over your woes again by viewing mine.I had an Edward, till a Richard killed him;I had a Harry, till a Richard killed him:Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard killed him;Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard killed him.From forth the kennel of thy womb hath creptA hellhound that doth hunt us all to death:That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood,That foul defacer of Gods handiwork,That excellent grand tyrant of the earthThat reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,Thy womb let loose to chase us to our graves.O upright, just, and true-disposing God,How do I thank thee that this carnal curPreys on the issue of his mothers bodyAnd makes her pew-fellow with others moan!Bear with me! I am hungry for revenge,And now I cloy me with beholding it.Thy Edward he is dead, that killed my Edward;Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward;Young York he is but boot, because both theyMatched not the high perfection of my loss. Thy Clarence he is dead that stabbed my Edward,And the beholders of this frantic play,Th adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,Untimely smothred in their dusky graves.Richard yet lives, hells black intelligencer;Only reserved their factor to buy soulsAnd send them thither. But at hand, at hand,Ensues his piteous and unpitied end.Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray,To have him suddenly conveyed from hence.Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,That I may live and say, The dog is dead.I called thee once vain flourish of my fortune;I called thee then poor shadow, painted queen,The presentation of but what I was,The flattering index of a direful pageant,One heaved a-high to be hurled down below,A mother only mocked with two fair babes,A dream of what thou wast, a garish flag,To be the aim of every dangerous shot;A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble,A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.Where is thy husband now? Where be thy brothers?Where be thy two sons? Wherein dost thou joy?Who sues and kneels and says, God save the queen?Where be the bending peers that flattered thee?Where be the thronging troops that followed thee?Decline all this, and see what now thou art:For happy wife, a most distressed widow;For joyful mother, one that wails the name;For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;For queen, a very caitiff crowned with care;For she that scorned at me, now scorned of me;For she being feared of all, now fearing one;For she commanding all, obeyed of none.Thus hath the course of justice whirled aboutAnd left thee but a very prey to time,Having no more but thought of what thou wast,To torture thee the more, being what thou art.Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou notUsurp the just proportion of my sorrow?Now thy proud neck bears half my burdened yoke,From which even here I slip my weary headAnd leave the burden of it all on thee.Farewell, Yorks wife, and queen of sad mischance!These English woes shall make me smile in France.