More sinn’d against than sinning

Let the great gods,

That keep this dreadful pother o’er our heads,

Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,

That hast within thee undivulged crimes,

Unwhipp’d of justice: hide thee, thou bloody hand;

Thou perjured, and thou similar man of virtue

That art incestuous: caitiff, to pieces shake,

That under covert and convenient seeming

Hast practiced on man’s life: close pent-up guilts,

Rive your concealing continents, and cry

These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man

More sinn’d against than sinning.

—King Lear, Act III, Scene ii