I. How does Clarence’s dream function in Richard III? Answers help us talk about the meaning of the play--what we interpret Shakespeare to be saying on concerns that matter to us. Here are some possible answers:

1. Clarence's dream of drowning foreshadows the death we know is coming, fusing the past with the future: what seems "fate" is human will, cause-effect.

2. It makes us ask which is the "real"--the "facts" Clarence "knows" or the "dream"?

3. It gives us a sense of the limitations of "intellect" (his intuitions tell him something his "mind" does not know).

4. It helps define "will" and intellect by putting them against the passivity of goodness--Clarence is adrift on a current of events which will drown him; he is unaware and passive.

5. It brings to mind the brutality of Richard's irony all along. "He shall have wine enough anon!" resembles Richard's "I love him so much I will help him to heaven if heaven will have the gift at my hands" (or words to that effect). We like and pity Clarence more and therefore dislike Richard more.

6. It makes us question our concept of justice: Clarence has killed--but somehow, after this scene, we don't want him killed.

7. It points out the horror of death--its difference from life. What is the worth of man?

II. Imagery: since this is poetry, it rewards close attention. What images occur repeatedly in Richard’s speeches and what do these suggest about him? What do the connotations of the words suggest? (For example, what characteristics does word choice attribute to war? To peace?)

Now is the winter of our discontent ["winter"= cyclical, connects man/universe, outer/inner]

Made glorious summer by this son of York;

And all the clouds that low'r'd upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths,

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments,

Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings, ["merry meetings" trivializes]

Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.

Grim-visag'd War hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; [war, the reality, has temporarily assumed a party face]

And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds

To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,

He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber [seems grotesque, unnatural!]

To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks, ["tricks" trivializes]

Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; [is Richard as anti-narcissistic as this sounds?]

I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; [so many repetitions of I!]

I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, [Nature herself, like Richard, dissembles!]

Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time

Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,

And that so lamely and unfashionable

That dogs bark at me as I halt by them--

Why I, in this weak piping time of peace,

Have no delight to pass away the time,

Unless to see my shadow in the sun

And descant on mine own deformity.

And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover

To entertain these fair well-spoken days,

I am determined to prove a villain

And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

Plots have I laid. . .

And if King Edward be as true and just

As I am subtle, false, and treacherous. . .

. . .I do mistake my person all this while!

Upon my life, she finds (although I cannot)

Myself to be a marv'llous proper man.

I'll be at charges for a looking-glass,

And entertain a score or two of tailors

To study fashions to adorn my body:

Since I am crept in favor with myself,

I will maintain it with some little cost. . . .

Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,                  [Now he wants a mirror!]

That I may see my shadow as I pass.

. . .But then I sigh, and, with a piece of scripture,

Tell them that God bids us do good for evil:

And thus I clothe my naked villainy                    [villainy, then, is reality— the naked man?]

With odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ,

And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. . .

What do I fear? Myself? there's none else by.

Richard loves Richard, that is, I am I.

Is there a murtherer here? No. Yes. I am.

Then fly. What, from myself? Great reason why--

Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself?

Alack, I love myself. . .

O no! Alas, I rather hate myself. . . .

I am a villain; yet I lie, I am not.. . .

. . .wherefore should [any soul pity me] since that I myself

Find in myself no pity to myself?

III. Several characters in Macbeth also use images of apparel to stand for something more abstract.

Macbeth: Why do you dress me in borrowed robes? (1.3.109)

Banquo: New honors come upon him like our strange garments, cleave not to their mold but with the aid of use (1.3.145) ["come" is a past participle, as in "have come"]

Lady Macbeth: Was the hope drunk wherein you dressed yourself? Has it slept since? (1.7.35-6)

Cathness: He cannot buckle his distempered cause within the belt of rule. (5.2.15-6)

Angus: Now does he feel his title hang loose about him like a giant's robe upon a dwarfish thief. (5.2. )