Richard III

Morning. The clock strikes. Richard asks: 'Who saw the sun today?' No one. 'Then he disdains to shine... a black day will it be to somebody.' 'The sun will not be seen today, the sky doth frown and lour upon our army.' But Richard dismisses it: 'Not shine today? Why, what is that to me more than to Richmond? For the selfsame heaven that frowns on me, looks sadly upon him.' Norfolk brings a warning note found on his tent: 'Jockey of Norfolk, be not so bold, for Dickon thy master is bought and sold.' Richard: 'A thing devised by the enemy.' Then his most revealing speech: 'Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls. Conscience is a word that cowards use, devised at first to keep the strong in awe. Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law. March on, join bravely, let us to't pell mell. If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.' His oration to troops: Calls Richmond's army 'vagabonds, rascals, and runaways... a scum of Brittaines, and base lackey peasants.' Calls Richmond 'a paltry fellow... a milksop, one that never in his life felt so much cold as over shoes in snow.' 'Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again.' Stanley's messenger arrives: 'My lord, he doth deny to come.' Richard: 'Off with his son George's head.' Norfolk: 'The enemy is past the marsh. After the battle, let George Stanley die.' Richard: 'A thousand hearts are great within my bosom. Advance our standards, set upon our foes.' Richard has decided: conscience is irrelevant, only power matters. 'If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.' He's fully committed now. No hesitation, no guilt, no conscience—only the sword. This is Richard at his most honest and most dangerous: he's chosen hell knowingly.