Synopsis: Shortly before his final defeat, Richard speaks to an audience about his life, his triumphs, and his tragedies.

Richard: (walks on stage) Good day, if such a thing is indeed possible; I personally find days to be miserable and deplorable -unless something good happens to me. But I am forgetting what you would consider common courtesy and manners. I am he who is called Richard III. And I’m in a position, I think, to present to you on this ’good’ day with a so-called interpretation of my life.

Most of you would consider me, according to those dammed Tudors, a monster and you would be to some regards, be correct; I am indeed a monster, that is a monster who went against the odds and discrimination of his era to assume the throne of the wondrous land of England. But first we must start at the beginning.

In many ways, it began with what should have been a 'joyful' occasion: The conclusion of the War of the Roses, the end of the civil war that had plagued o glorious England for years, and the assumption of power by my family, the Lancasters.

But I for one was not happy with the end of the conflict. I lived for the battle, to embrace the spirit of the warrior who gave this pitiful shell strength. Then the battle ended and what was the spirit doing? It was in bed with- well, you get the idea. I was angry, furious and a tad envious-my physical deformity has always prevented me from seeking female companions.

No, this was simply unacceptable; something had to be done and the opportunity to do so arose in the form of the King, Edward, my dear brother. Edward was ill and going to die; we all knew it. I also knew that my other brother Clarence would probably take over; after all, who would ever consider a wicked hunchback to assume the throne of England?

However, Clarence soon became a resident of the dreaded prison known throughout the land as the Tower via my manipulations of Edward’s fears and false prophecies that I gave him. Agents were dispatched some time later to do Clarence in and while there was, according to one of them, discomfort in performing the deed, they succeeded in killing my brother - no great loss mind you. A pacifist like himself was a danger to those around him, especially in our troubled times.

While the agents were carrying out this segment of the plan, I, to my great surprise, successfully wooed the Lady Anne of the now diminished Tudor family. I say with great surprise for this one in particular hated me; I had, well, taken the life out of her husband and father-in-law during the aforementioned civil war. However, I needed Anne in order to increase my power base and while she most likely also did it for status reasons rather than love, it was indeed a relief and source of joy to this crippled genius.

Edward, distraught at Clarence’s end, soon died and the door was opened for the larger portion of my stratagem. But I was opposed by Edward’s wife Elizabeth, as well as the former Queen Margaret, a she-devil-of-a-witch, attempted to oppose me, Margaret by prophesying most heinous lies against my person and Elizabeth by putting her children, or rather the elder one, on the throne. Upon their arrival in England, though I had them thrown in the dreaded Tower.

But I had help in accomplishing this. The Duke of Buckingham, in whom I saw a kindred spirit, joined the cause in return for a promised Earldom. He was most instrumental in resolving the crisis of the Lord known as Hastings, who had ignored emissaries and was loyal to those little bastards. So, at the meeting of the Lords where we were to determine the date for the young prince’s crowning, we conjured up a little limerick/lie about his mistress being a witch! I had him arrested and executed.

With Hastings dead and the kiddies locked away, Buckingham and I took the final steps to have the ’real’ heir assume the throne. It wasn't easy. The right noblemen had to be talked to. Well-timed donations had to be made to the offices in London, and favors that I thought I would never have uses for were called into play. But in the end, all was successful. I became the king of England.

And then everything went to hell, literally and metaphorically. I suppose it began with Buckingham's treachery. In order to further fortify my power base, I called upon the duke to undertake the ultimate act of loyalty: Kill the two princes, Elizabeth‘s sons who were indeed the rightful heirs and, while locked away in the tower, were still a threat.

Yet Buckingham hesitated and in that moment, I knew he was a lost cause; he showed that which I hate most of all, no backbone. I denied him the promised earldom, even after he agreed to commit the deed. As a result, he attempted to defect to the Tudors, but he failed and I personally saw to it that he suffered a horrible demise. The deed was done by another and there was little to none opposition left.

However, looking back, it was a regrettable error to kill Buckingham; Even with my marriage to Anne, who shortly thereafter met a mysterious and not entirely unplanned death herself, and the support of the aforementioned nobles, my power base was still not stable. He was my strongest supporter, my confidant.

It proved to be a decisive blunder. Soon, reports came in of the rebel Tudor Richmond gathering forces to oppose me. I deployed my own forces and prepared to counterattack the fiend. Alas, my sleep was troubled by a supernatural presence. I was visited by thirteen, yes, thirteen foul specters in my sleep on the eve of the battle of my life, specters who claimed to have suffered past insults and injuries against me! Obviously, you wouldn’t sleep well! I was forced in those early hours to confront my own demons in the process and, I, well, had a new battle to fight: an internal one against my dammed conscience. I succeeded and put the matter behind me, but the feeling of dread would not leave my person. Still, I know that I will win the battle and when I do, I will kill you all! (evil laugh; exits)