Ricardo III

Give me another horse! Bandage my wounds! Yisus, have mercy on me! Shut up, it has not been
more than a dream! Coward conscience, how it grieve me! The lights burn as a blue flame. Now its
full midnight. Cold frigthened drops cover my flickering meat. What I am afraid of? To my own
self? There is no one else here: Richard wants a Richard; this is it, I am me. There is here some
murderer? No; yes, I am he. So, run away. What, from myself? Great reason, why? So I dont
revenge myself in myself. I love myself. Why? For any good I have done to myself? No! Rather, I
hate myself for hateful actions done by myself! I am a roughneck: but I lie, I am not. Crazy, speak
well of yourself: crazy, do not flatter. Mi conscience have thousands of separated languages, and
each language gives a different declaration, and each declaration sentence me as a roughneck.
Perjury, perjury, in its highest degree; crime, serious crime, in the most horrible degree; all the
different committed sins, all of them in all degrees, gather facing the court, yelling: "guilty, guilty!"
I will despair. There is none creature that loves me: and if I die, no one will pity me; no, why they
will pity me, if I can not find pity from myself to myself?