Richard III: Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York.
Queen Elizabeth: I have no more sons of the royal blood for you to slaughter.
Richard III: You have a daughter.
Lady Anne: No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.
Richard III: But I know none, and therefore am no beast.
Richard: Why, I can smile... And murder while I smile.
Richard III: A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse.
Lord Rivers: To whom in all this presence speaks your grace?
Richard III: To you, who have neither honesty, nor Grace.