Beshrew your eyes, they have o'erlook'd me & divided me; one half of me is yours, the other half yours, mine own, i would say; but if mine, then yours, and so all yours. (Portia to Bassanio)
The quality of mercy is not strain'd, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon e place beneath: it is twice blest; it blesseth him that gives and him that takes. (Portia to Shylock)
1 comment:
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