All of Shakespeare’s plays.
I have a head, sir, that will find out logs,
And never trouble Peter for the matter.
Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his
own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his
fingers goes not with me.
You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they
can lick their fingers.
We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be
brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.
Ay, boy, ready.
When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's
hands and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing.
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