As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free.

My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree; Murder, stern murder in the dir'st degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, 'Guilty!, guilty!

O, how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors.

For I am he am born to tame you, Kate; and bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate conformable as other household Kates.

Ay, when fowls have no feathers and fish have no fin.

If I shall be condemned Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else But what your jealousies awake, I tell you 'Tis rigor and not law.

Make passionate my sense of hearing.