Dear women! I am ashamed to have you think my laments are too many, my grief too much; but since I cannot help it, please forgive me."
From whom hast thou this great commission, France, To draw my answer from thy articles?
From that supernal judge, that stirs good thoughts In any breast of strong authority, To look into the blots and stains of right: That judge hath made me guardian to this boy: Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong And by whose help I mean to chastise it."