The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good.
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.
Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain.
With these shreds They vented their complainings, which being answered And a petition granted them, a strange one, To break the heart of generosity, And make bold power look pale, they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o' th' moon, Shouting their emulation.
To do a great right do a little wrong.
What the vengeance, could he not speak 'em fair?