Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail / Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt,/ Dispraise, or blame; nothing but well and fair,/ And what may quiet us in a death so noble.

If weakness may excuse, What murderer, what traitor, parricide, Incestuous, sacrilegious, but may plead it? All wickedness is weakness; that plea, therefore, With God or man will gain thee no remission.

Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon; / The world was all before them, where to choose / Their place of rest, and Providence their guide: / They hand in hand with wandering steps and slow / Through Eden took their solitary way.

They are for religion when in rags and contempt, but I am for him when he walks in his golden slippers in the sunshine and with applause.

Even the weakest is thrust to the wall.

Never say sorry - it's a sign of weakness