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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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O, yet I do repent me of my fury,

 O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children!--  With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword Then have my lips the sin that they have took. I cannot blame her: by God's holy mother,  By cock, they are to blame. Give me my sin again. Hence both are gone; with conscience and remorse How that the guilty kindred of the queen  With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword 
That ever yet this land was guilty of.

 Would I be guilty of so deep a sin. You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. Would I be guilty of so deep a sin.  With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin How that the guilty kindred of the queen Stop up the access and passage to remorse, So full of artless jealousy is guilt,