McSweeney's! And, the real best pickup line ever

"Did it hurt?  When'st thou fell from Heaven?"

Today, I have a piece at McSweeney's, which I am very proud of.  It's about my second-favorite Shakespeare play ever, Richard III.

On a related note, Richard was the uncontested greatest player in literature until Hannibal Lecter got himself into Clarice Starling's pants by feeding her some dude's brain.  And Shakespeare gives us the greatest pick-up ever written, when Richard makes a pass at a woman immediately after murdering her father and husband.

This would be tough even for the smoothest of pimps.  And this guy doesn't have the advantage of being super-handsome like me.  Poor dude is a hunchback.

Gloucester is, of course, Richard.  He does not become Richard III until later on, when he ascends the throne.


It is said that the high-five was invented for the express purpose of celebrating the unadulterated pimpitude of this specific moment.

My helpful annotations are in parentheses.  And all caps.  And bolded.  And italicized.


LADY ANNE

What, do you tremble? are you all afraid?
Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal,
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
>His soul thou canst not have; therefore be gone.

(SHE DON'T LIKE HIM VERY MUCH, BRO.)

GLOUCESTER

Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.

LADY ANNE

Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not;
For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.
O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh!
Blush, Blush, thou lump of foul deformity;
For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood
From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells;
Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,
Provokes this deluge most unnatural.
O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death!O earth, which this blood drink'st revenge his death!
Either heaven with lightning strike the
murderer dead,
Or earth, gape open wide and eat him quick,
As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood
Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered!

(DUDE, SHE HELLA PISSED AT OUR BOY, YO!)

GLOUCESTER

Lady, you know no rules of charity,
Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

(AW, SNAP!)

LADY ANNE

Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man:
No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.

GLOUCESTER

But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

(DROPPIN' SOME LOGIC UP IN HERE!  THAT'S SOME IRREFUTABLE SHIT!)

LADY ANNE

O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!

GLOUCESTER

More wonderful, when angels are so angry.
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these supposed-evils, to give me leave,
By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

LADY ANNE

Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man,
For these known evils, but to give me leave,
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.

GLOUCESTER

Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have
Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

LADY ANNE

Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make
No excuse current, but to hang thyself.

(WHEN A WOMAN TELLS YOU TO FUCK OFF AND DIE, THAT'S HOW YOU KNOW SHE WANTS IT BAD)

GLOUCESTER

By such despair, I should accuse myself.

LADY ANNE

And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused;
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

GLOUCESTER

Say that I slew them not?

LADY ANNE

Why, then they are not dead:
But dead they are, and devilish slave, by thee.

GLOUCESTER

I did not kill your husband.

LADY ANNE

Why, then he is alive.

GLOUCESTER

Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand.

(BULLSHIT!)

LADY ANNE

In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen Margaret saw
Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood;
The which thou once didst bend against her breast,
But that thy brothers beat aside the point.

(SHE KNOWS IT'S BULLSHIT!)

GLOUCESTER

I was provoked by her slanderous tongue,
which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

LADY ANNE

Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind.
Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries:
Didst thou not kill this king?

GLOUCESTER

I grant ye.

LADY ANNE

Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me too
Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed!
O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous!

GLOUCESTER

The fitter for the King of heaven, that hath him.

(HE WAS SUCH A NICE GUY, I DID HIM THE FAVOR OF STABBIN' HIS ASS, BITCH!)

LADY ANNE

He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.

GLOUCESTER

Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither;
For he was fitter for that place than earth.

LADY ANNE

And thou unfit for any place but hell.

GLOUCESTER

Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.

LADY ANNE

Some dungeon.

GLOUCESTER

Your bed-chamber.

(BOOM! DROP SOME WOO ON THAT WIDOW!)

LADY ANNE

I'll rest betide the chamber where thou liest!

GLOUCESTER

So will it, madam till I lie with you.

(AW YEAH!  IT'S ON! HIGH FIVE!)

LADY ANNE

I hope so.