Monologue

I figured you might want to know what I'm talking about when I talk about Lady Anne.

The story of Richard III: Richard really, really, really wants the crown. Fortunately, his own father, the king, is fatally ill and will die soon, so he murders every other potential heir to the throne, including his two nephews.

Lady Anne is Richard's widowed sister-in-law. She knows Richard murdered her husband. During his funeral procession, Richard approaches her, and woos her into marrying him--for political reasons (a widow marrying the brother was typical), and, while he admits that he murdered her husband, he says it was because it was all for her.

The king's widow, Queen Elizabeth, is Lady Anne's only remaining family member, save Richard. And she's preoccupied with the crown, even amidst the bloodshed. In Act IV, Anne has just been requested to leave London Tower and return to Richard.

IV.i, plus the line before:
            Eliz.             Go, go, poor soul. I envy not thy glory,

                        but for my humour, wish thyself no harm. 

            Anne.            No! Why? When he that is my husband now

                        came to me as I follow’d Henry’s corse,

                        when scarce the blood was well washed from his hands

                        which issued from my other angel husband,

                        and that dear saint which then I weeping follow’d,

                        O, when, I say, I look’d on Richard’s face,

                        this was my wish: “Be thou,” quoth I, “accurs’d

                        for making me, so young, so old a widow!

                        And when thou wed’st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;

                        And be thy wife—if any be so mad—

                        more miserable by the life of thee

                        than thou has made me by my lord’s death!”

                        Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,

                        within so small a time, my woman’s heart

                        grossly grew captive to his honey words

                        and prov’d the subject of my own soul’s curse,

                        which hitherto hath held my eyes from rest;

                        for never one hour in his bed

                        did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep

                        but from his timorous dreams was still awak’d.

                        Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick,

                        and will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.

Brief translation: 
Eliz.        Go on. Have fun, and don't get hurt.
Anne.     Bitch please. I cursed myself into this, and I couldn't sleep because I knew he'd kill me. Oh, and if he hates me for my father, he'll kill me off soon. Subtext: you're next. Have a nice life.