All of Shakespeare’s plays.
A colour that I fear you will die in, Sir John.
I cannot well perceive how, unless you should give
me your doublet and stuff me out with straw. I
beseech you, good Sir John, let me have five hundred
of my thousand.
Yea, marry, Sir John; which I beseech you to let me
have home with me.
'Tis so, indeed.
It is best, certain.
It doth, it doth, it doth.
It doth so.
Harry the Fourth.
Under King Harry.
Give me pardon, sir: if, sir, you come with news
from the court, I take it there's but two ways,
either to utter them, or to conceal them. I am,
sir, under the king, in some authority.
Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing: be merry.
Look who's at door there, ho! who knocks?
By God's liggens, I thank thee: the knave will
stick by thee, I can assure thee that. A' will not
out; he is true bred.
By the mass, you'll crack a quart together, ha!
Will you not, Master Bardolph?
Honest Bardolph, welcome: if thou wantest any
thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart.
Welcome, my little tiny thief.
To the Page
And welcome indeed too. I'll drink to Master
Bardolph, and to all the cavaleros about London.
Be merry, Master Bardolph; and, my little soldier
there, be merry.
Give Master Bardolph some wine, Davy.
A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet,
Sir John: by the mass, I have drunk too much sack
at supper: a good varlet. Now sit down, now sit
down: come, cousin.
Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all,
Sir John: marry, good air. Spread, Davy; spread,
Davy; well said, Davy.
Nay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbour,
we will eat a last year's pippin of my own graffing,
with a dish of caraways, and so forth: come,
cousin Silence: and then to bed.
Within Sir John!
I thank thee with all my heart, kind
Master Bardolph: and welcome, my tall fellow.
To the Page
Come, Sir John.
Go to; I say he shall have no wrong. Look about, Davy.
Where are you, Sir John? Come, come, come, off
with your boots. Give me your hand, Master Bardolph.
There is many complaints, Davy, against that Visor:
that Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge.
Well conceited, Davy: about thy business, Davy.
Yea, Davy. I will use him well: a friend i' the
court is better than a penny in purse. Use his men
well, Davy; for they are arrant knaves, and will backbite.
A' shall answer it. Some pigeons, Davy, a couple
of short-legged hens, a joint of mutton, and any
pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William cook.
Let it be cast and paid. Sir John, you shall not be excused.
With red wheat, Davy. But for William cook: are
there no young pigeons?
Davy, Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see, Davy; let me
see, Davy; let me see: yea, marry, William cook,
bid him come hither. Sir John, you shall not be excused.
I will not excuse you; you shall not be excused;
excuses shall not be admitted; there is no excuse
shall serve; you shall not be excused. Why, Davy!
By cock and pie, sir, you shall not away to-night.
What, Davy, I say!
Go to; I have spoke at a word. God keep you.
Sir John, the Lord bless you! God prosper your
affairs! God send us peace! At your return visit
our house; let our old acquaintance be renewed;
peradventure I will with ye to the court.
He is not his craft's master; he doth not do it
right. I remember at Mile-end Green, when I lay at
Clement's Inn--I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's
show,--there was a little quiver fellow, and a'
would manage you his piece thus; and a' would ...
Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong: they are
your likeliest men, and I would have you served with the best.
Marry, then, Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble and Shadow.
Come, Sir John, which four will you have?
Four of which you please.
That we have, that we have, that we have; in faith,
Sir John, we have: our watch-word was 'Hem boys!'
Come, let's to dinner; come, let's to dinner:
Jesus, the days that we have seen! Come, come.
Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that
this knight and I have seen! Ha, Sir John, said I well?
Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old;
certain she's old; and had Robin Nightwork by old
Nightwork before I came to Clement's Inn.
By the mass, I could anger her to the heart. She
was then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well?
She never could away with me.
Ha! 'twas a merry night. And is Jane Nightwork alive?
O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night
in the windmill in Saint George's field?
Here is two more called than your number, you must
have but four here, sir: and so, I pray you, go in
with me to dinner.
Peter Bullcalf o' the green!
Shall I prick him, sir?
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