Careful Words

mercy (n.)

  Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other.

Old Testament: Psalm lxxxv. 10.

Betwixt the stirrup and the ground,

Mercy I ask'd; mercy I found.

William Camden: Remains.

Who will not mercie unto others show,

How can he mercy ever hope to have?

Edmund Spenser (1553-1599): Faerie Queene. Book v. Canto ii. St. 42.

A God all mercy is a God unjust.

Edward Young (1684-1765): Night Thoughts. Night iv. Line 233.

Who will not mercie unto others show,

How can he mercy ever hope to have?

Edmund Spenser (1553-1599): Faerie Queene. Book v. Canto ii. St. 42.

Teach me to feel another's woe,

To hide the fault I see;

That mercy I to others show,

That mercy show to me.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): The Universal Prayer. Stanza 10.

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.

'T is 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. Therefore, Jew,

Though justice be thy plea, consider this,

That in the course of justice none of us

Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render

The deeds of mercy.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Titus Andronicus. Act i. Sc. 2.

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.

'T is 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. Therefore, Jew,

Though justice be thy plea, consider this,

That in the course of justice none of us

Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render

The deeds of mercy.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute,

In Provence call'd "La belle dame sans mercy."

John Keats (1795-1821): The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 33.

No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,

Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,

The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,

Become them with one half so good a grace

As mercy does.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Timon of Athens. Act iii. Sc. 5.

Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness!

This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth

The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms,

And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;

The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,

And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely

His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,

And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,

Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,

This many summers in a sea of glory,

But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride

At length broke under me and now has left me,

Weary and old with service, to the mercy

Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me.

Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:

I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched

Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!

There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,

That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,

More pangs and fears than wars or women have:

And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,

Never to hope again.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

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.

'T is 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. Therefore, Jew,

Though justice be thy plea, consider this,

That in the course of justice none of us

Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render

The deeds of mercy.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

And lovelier things have mercy shown

To every failing but their own;

And every woe a tear can claim,

Except an erring sister's shame.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: The Giaour. Line 418.

Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,

And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.

Thomas Gray (1716-1771): Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 17.

Hope withering fled, and Mercy sighed farewell!

Lord Byron 1788-1824: The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 9.

Yet I shall temper so

Justice with mercy, as may illustrate most

Them fully satisfy'd, and thee appease.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book x. Line 77.

Who will not mercie unto others show,

How can he mercy ever hope to have?

Edmund Spenser (1553-1599): Faerie Queene. Book v. Canto ii. St. 42.

  Have mercy upon us miserable sinners.

Book Of Common Prayer: The Litany.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!

Here we will sit and let the sounds of music

Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night

Become the touches of sweet harmony.

Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven

Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold:

There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st

But in his motion like an angel sings,

Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins.

Such harmony is in immortal souls;

But whilst this muddy vesture of decay

Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): The Merchant of Venice. Act v. Sc. 1.