I’ll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders Before I’ll see the crown so foul misplaced. (Act 3, Scene 2, lines 43–44)

Then cursed she Richard, then cursed she Buckingham. Then cursed she Hastings. O, remember, God, To hear her prayer for them, as now for us! And for my sister and her princely sons, Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood, Which, as thou know’st, unjustly must be spilt. (Act 3, Scene 3, lines 18–23)

His grace looks cheerfully and smooth this morning. There’s some conceit or other likes him well When that he bids good morrow with such spirit. I think there’s never a man in Christendom Can lesser hide his love or hate than he, For by his face straight shall you know his heart. (Act 3, Scene 4, lines 49–54)

Look how I am bewitched! Behold mine arm Is like a blasted sapling withered up; And this is Edward’s wife, that monstrous witch, Consorted with that harlot, strumpet Shore, That by their witchcraft thus have markèd me. (Act 3, Scene 4, lines 70–74)

O bloody Richard! Miserable England, I prophesy the fearfull’st time to thee That ever wretched age hath looked upon.— Come, lead me to the block. Bear him my head. They smile at me that shortly shall be dead. (Act 3, Scene 4, lines 105–109)