All of Shakespeare’s plays.
'Tis so: and as war, in some sort, may be said to
be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a
great maker of cuckolds.
Why, then we shall have a stirring world again.
This peace is nothing, but to rust iron, increase
tailors, and breed ballad-makers.
And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine.
An he had been cannibally given, he might have
broiled and eaten him too.
Come, we are fellows and friends: he was ever too
hard for him; I have heard him say so himself.
Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that:
for the defence of a town, our general is excellent.
Worth six on him.
Who, my master?
So did I, I'll be sworn: he is simply the rarest
man i' the world.
Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in
him: he had, sir, a kind of face, methought,--I
cannot tell how to term it.
By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with
a cudgel; and yet my mind gave me his clothes made a
false report of him.
Here, sir: I'ld have beaten him like a dog, but for
disturbing the lords within.
And I shall.
Are you so brave? I'll have you talked with anon.
Away! get you away.
Whence are you, sir? Has the porter his eyes in his
head; that he gives entrance to such companions?
Pray, get you out.
Where's Cotus? my master calls
for him. Cotus!
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