Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
Nor no one here; for curses never pass
The lips of those that breathe them in the air.
Intending deep suspicion, ghastly looks
Are at my service, like enforced smiles;
Cousin of Buckingham, and sage grave men, Since you will buckle Fortune on my back,
To bear her burden whe’er I will or no,
I must have patience to endure the load;
But if black scandal or foul-fac’d reproach Attend the sequel of your imposition,
Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me From all the impure blots and stains thereof;
For God doth know, and you may partly see, How far I am from the desire of this.
Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezes.
Go muster men. My counsel is my shield;
We must be brief when traitors brave the field.
The King is angry, see, he gnaws his lip.
A horse, a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
Richard III
