I Pardon Him, As God Shall Pardon

Take No Repulse, Whatever She Doth Say; For 'get You Gone,' She Doth Not Mean 'away.' Flatter And Praise, Commend, Extol Their Graces; Though Ne'er So Black, Say They Have Angels' Faces

O, Let Me Kiss That Hand! King Lear: Let Me Wipe It First; It Smells Of Mortality.

O Teach Me How I Should Forget To Think (1.1.224)

Truth Will Come To Sight; Murder Cannot Be Hid Long.

What Can Be Avoided Whose End Is Purposed By The Mighty Gods?