Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths...
But I am not shaped for an amorous looking - Glass. I am Rudely Stamped, deformed, so lamely that Dogs bark at me.
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, I am Determined to prove a villain, and hate the idle pleasures of these days. Plots have I laid to set my brother Clarence and the king in deadly hate. A Prophecy says that "G" of Edwards heirs the Murderer shall be.