All of Shakespeare’s plays.
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.
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