All of Shakespeare’s plays.
We are enow yet living in the field
To smother up the English in our throngs,
If any order might be thought upon.
Is this the king we sent to for his ransom?
O seigneur! le jour est perdu, tout est perdu!
Rien puis? L'air et la feu.
O brave spirit!
The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords!
It is now two o'clock: but, let me see, by ten
We shall have each a hundred Englishmen.
Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef.
Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a
Russian bear and have their heads crushed like
rotten apples! You may as well say, that's a
valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion.
That they lack; for if their heads had any
intellectual armour, they could never wear such heavy
What a wretched and peevish fellow is this king of
England, to mope with his fat-brained followers so
far out of his knowledge!
'Tis not the first time you were overshot.
You are the better at proverbs, by how much 'A
fool's bolt is soon shot.'
And I will take up that with 'Give the devil his due.'
Ill will never said well.
He needs not; it is no hidden virtue in him.
I know him to be valiant.
He never did harm, that I heard of.
He is simply the most active gentleman of France.
By the white hand of my lady, he's a gallant prince.
The Dauphin longs for morning.
Your mistress bears well.
I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's mistress.
No more, cousin.
He's of the colour of the nutmeg.
You are as well provided of both as any prince in the world.
Will it never be morning?
You have an excellent armour; but let my horse have his due.
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