RICHARD: I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart: Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burthen; For selfsame wind that I should speak withal Is kindling coals that fires all my breast, And burns me up with flames that tears would quench. To weep is to make less the depth of grief: Tears then for babes; blows and revenge for me Richard, I bear thy name; I'll venge thy death, Or die renowned by attempting it.