The Quality of Mercy

The Quality of Mercy

por William Shakespeare

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 scepter 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 sceptered sway;
It is enthroned in the heart of kings;
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God’s
When mercy seasons justice.

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Otros poemas de William Shakespeare (leer al azar)

Love is my sin and thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving:
O, but with mine compare thou thine own state,

Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
These rebel powers that thee array;
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,

That you were once unkind befriends me now,
And for that sorrow which I then did feel
Needs must I under my transgression bow,

Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there
And made myself a motley to the view,
Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most de

When forty winters shall beseige thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty’s field,
Thy youth’s proud livery, so gazed on now,

When I consider everything that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows

O, from what power hast thou this powerful might
With insufficiency my heart to sway?
To make me give the lie to my true sight,

When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head,

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