Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.

There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings.

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

O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!

Gloucester, we have done deeds of charity, made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.

Virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that amends is but patched with virtue.

Who is so firm that can't be seduced?