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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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Lays blame upon his promise. Please't your highness

  With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword And wet his grave with my repentant tears,-- And die in terror of thy guiltiness! She hath had too much wrong; and I repent That ever yet this land was guilty of. 
That I am guiltless of your father's death,
 Is guilty of this lamentable chance!--The lady stirs. Is guilty of this lamentable chance!--The lady stirs. For it must seem their guilt. The urging of that word judgment hath bred a kind of remorse in That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. Hence both are gone; with conscience and remorse Make mad the guilty, and appal the free; And wet his grave with my repentant tears,-- Try what repentance can: what can it not? Then have my lips the sin that they have took. Your loneliness.--We are oft to blame in this,-- Then have my lips the sin that they have took. Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds: That ever yet this land was guilty of. 
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear,
 For in that sin he is as deep as I. Lays blame upon his promise. Please't your highness That, his apparent open guilt omitted,--