So begins the dialogue of my favorite Shakespeare play ever… Richard III. Also probably one of my favorite characters, ever.
The other day I read a Yahoo! article that took on a CSI: Roses tone and detailed Richard’s death, from the wounds that probably didn’t kill him, to the blow on the back of the head that probably did, to the spiteful dagger through the backside after his death. Quick, it asserted, but terrifying. Probably nothing like the ending of Ian McKellan’s movie, where Richard dies smiling. Cheeky bastard.
But that is Richard, as Shakespeare characterizes him. Wicked, a wizard with language, blessed with acerbic wit, and full of self-loathing. There is something about a villain who hates himself that the reader/viewer finds very appealing… it makes him (in this case Richard) seem approachable, especially in comparison to the saintly Henry Tudor. I admit, I identify to a point with Richard… I have a decent way with words, admittedly though I am not an orator, I can have a biting tongue, and for years I cringed away from my reflection in the mirror. When my now fiance first told me that he was interested in me romantically, I got off the phone and started, unfortunately, to quote the scene after Richard successfully woos Lady Anne.