King Richard III, IGCSE Buckingham empathic task:
How could I have abided by such an egregious despot, a licentious butcher and yet never portend his perfidiousness? How could I have been so callow? My being is jaded; my soul hath been wearied from surfeit of burdensome labor. I was to be vouchsafed the movables of Hereford, so as to relish in my opulence; rather than perish opprobriously.
It is presently indubitable that Margaret’s supposed fulminations were unfortunately Nemesis’s forebodings. She had been the omen of my debacle, the soothsayer holding the key to my amaranthine salvation. Oh! How doltish of me to repudiate her amity in such a despicable manner. Acquaintanceship of the sort would have tremendously availed my dire cause. However, to my grievous misfortune, I was blinded by the alluring propoundments of a usurping boar.
I now discern the malice of Richard’s nefarious plots and inductions. The subtleties of a gentle villain, the iniquitous wrongs of a cacodemon are no longer veiled to my eyes. His astute chicaneries had deceived England and bewitched the hearts of so many credulous men; and all with I as his advocate. The rooting hog’s stratagems know no boundaries and show no restraint in the exploitation of his ascendency. Under such a tumultuous dominion, delinquency and despondency will flourish. I find solace in the degeneracy of Richard’s sovereignty lead by his descent into aberration and paranoia.
What afflicts me most, are the heinous villainies I could have vitiated were I not so avaricious. My wrongs have soiled a righteous nation; they have contorted and tainted the very root of its society. I acutely misconstrued the meaning of life. The worm of conscience begnaws my soul till the marrow is not but hollow ash.
Only death can purge me of such sins. Upon my corrupt soul, a pending sword of Damocles hath been placed. Since bloody Richard discharged me of all affiliation with him, a swaying pendulum of my demise had me...
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