Some Shakespeare

for some reason came to mind the other day. This is one of my most favorite soliloquies:

The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: it blesseth him that gives, and him that takes. 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes the throned monarch better than his crown. His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, the attribute to awe and majesty, wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings. But mercy is above this sceptred sway. It is enthroned in the hearts of kings. It is an attribute to God himself. And earthly power doth then show likest God's, when mercy seasons justice.

From the Merchant of Venice, Portia's eloquent entreaty to Shylock to spare Antonio from parting with a pound of flesh.

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