Richard: Your reasons are too shallow and too quick. Queen Elizabeth: Oh, no. My reasons are too deep and dead. Too deep and dead, my infants in their graves. Richard: Harp not on that string, Madam, that is past. Queen Elizabeth: Harp on it still shall I, till heart-strings break.
Gloster: Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York.
Richard: A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
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