Every one suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues, and this is mine: I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known.
— Then, will you take young Pegg? He impressed me so favourably.
— I wonder your halo doesn't grow heavy. It must be like wearing a tiara round the clock.
— Will you help him? His mother would be very grateful. And so would I.
— Yes, but your gratitude never seems too last. I've no sooner said yes than you come back with another request.
There is a natural aristocracy among men. The grounds of this are virtue and talents.
The quality of mercy is not strained. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath... Your whole life you hear that quoted. I never got it till now. Mercy is not something you ever get to request. Not strained means not forced. It's given freely. No reason. Just a gift drops from the sky. Twice blessed. Blessing him that gives and him that takes.
Most people who believe they are virtuous are hard to live with.
Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw from it this useful lesson: — that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable, that one false step involves her in endless ruin, that her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful, and that she cannot be too much guarded in her behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex.