All of Shakespeare’s plays. More…
For me, the gold of France did not seduce; Although I did admit it as a motive The sooner to effect what I intended: But God be thanked for prevention; Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice, Beseeching God and you to pardon me.
I do confess my fault; And do submit me to your highness' mercy.
I one, my lord: Your highness bade me ask for it to-day.
So may your highness, and yet punish too.
Never was monarch better fear'd and loved Than is your majesty: there's not, I think, a subject That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness Under the sweet shade of your government.