O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, / That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
Every cloud engenders not a storm.
Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her?
That you were once unkind befriends me now, And for that sorrow, which I then did feel, Needs must I under my transgression bow, Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel.
We must follow, not force Providence.