Hamlet, Titus Andronicus, Richard III, and Coriolanus. Go to!

Enter Richard

Richard. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.

(1)Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend
To stop devoted charitable deeds?

Richard. Villains, set down the corse, or, by Saint Paul,
I’ll make a corse of him that disobeys.

Gentleman. My lord, stand back and let the coffin pass.

Richard. Unmannered dog, stand thou when I command!
Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,
Or, by Saint Paul, I’ll strike thee to my foot
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.

The Bearers set down the hearse

Anne. What, do you tremble? Are you all afraid? Alas,
I blame you not, for you are mortal,
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
His soul thou canst not have; therefore, begone.
(Richard III, I.iii, 33-48)

Lavinia. O Tamora! Thou bearest a woman’s face—

Tamora. I will not hear her speak. Away with her!

Lavinia. Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word.

(2) Demetrius [to Tamora]. Listen, fair madam. Let it be your glory
To see her tears, but be your heart to them
As unrelenting flint to drops of rain.
(Titus Andronicus, II.iii, 36-41)

Coriolanus. My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done
To thee particularly and to all the Volsces
Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may
My surname, Coriolanus. The painful service,
The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood
Shed for my thankless country are requited
But with that surname—a good memory,
And witness of the malice and displeasure
Which thou shouldst bear me. Only that name remains.
The cruelty and envy of the people,
Permitted by our dastard nobles, who
Have all forsook me, hath devoured the rest,
And suffered me by the voice of slaves to be
Whooped out of Rome. Now this extremity
Hath brought me to thy hearth...
(Coriolanus, IV.v, 79-84)

Duchess of York. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal living ghost,
Woe’s scene, world’s shame, grave’s due by life usurped,
Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England’s lawful earth [sits down],
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood!

Queen Elizabeth. Ah that thou wouldst as soon afford a grave
As you canst yield a melancholy seat!
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.
Ah, who hath any cause to mourn but we? [sits down next to her]

(3) Margaret. [comes forward] If ancient sorrow be most reverend,
Give mine the benefit of seniory
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society [sits down with them],
Tell o’er your woes again by viewing mine.
I had an Edward, till a Richard killed him;
(4) I had a husband, till a Richard killed him.
Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard killed him;
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him.
(Richard III, IV.iv, 35-43)

Ghost. ...Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother’s hand
Of life, of crown, of queen at once dispatched,
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
Unhouseled, disappointed, unaneled,
No reck’ning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head.
O, horrible! O, horrible! Most horrible!
(5) If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not.
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damned incest...
(Hamlet, I.v, 74-82)

Coriolanus. You bless me, gods!

Aufidius. Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have
The leading of thine own revenges, take
Th’ one half of my commission; and set down—
As thou art experienced, since thou know’st
Thy country’s strength and weakness— thine own ways,
Whether to knock against the gates of Rome
Or rudely visit them in parts remote
To fright them ere destroy. But come in.
Let me commend thee first to those that shall
Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes!
And more a friend than e’er an enemy;
Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand. Most welcome!
(Coriolanus, IV.v, 141-143)

Richard. ... For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you,
Grant me this boon.

(6) Anne. With all my heart; (7) and much it joys me too
To see you are become so penitent.
Tressel and Barkley, go along with me.

Richard. Bid me farewell.

Anne. ‘Tis more than you deserve;
But since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.
(Richard III, I.ii, 219-220)

Queen. This is mere madness;
And thus a while the fit will work on him.
Anon, as patient as the female dove
When that her golden couplets are disclosed,
Her silence will sit drooping.

Hamlet. Hear you, sir.
What is the reason that you use me thus?
I loved you ever. But it is no matter.
Let Hercules himself do what he may,
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.
(Hamlet, V.i, 293-294)