Tremble, thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
Unwhipped of justice.
Act iii. Sc. 2.
I am a man
More sinned against than sinning.
Act iii. Sc. 4.
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these?
Take physic, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel.
Act iii. Sc. 4.
I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban.