All of Shakespeare’s plays.
The captain that did bring me first on shore
Hath my maid's garments: he upon some action
Is now in durance, at Malvolio's suit,
A gentleman, and follower of my lady's.
And all those sayings will I overswear;
And those swearings keep as true in soul
As doth that orbed continent the fire
That severs day from night.
If nothing lets to make us happy both
But this my masculine usurp'd attire,
Do not embrace me till each circumstance
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump
That I am Viola: which to confirm,
I'll bring you to a captain in this town,
Where lie my ...
And died that day when Viola from her birth
Had number'd thirteen years.
My father had a mole upon his brow.
Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father;
Such a Sebastian was my brother too,
So went he suited to his watery tomb:
If spirits can assume both form and suit
You come to fright us.
Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you:
You drew your sword upon me without cause;
But I bespoke you fair, and hurt you not.
My lord, I do protest--
No, my lord, not I.
Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?
After him I love
More than I love these eyes, more than my life,
More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife.
If I do feign, you witnesses above
Punish my life for tainting of my love!
And I, most jocund, apt and willingly,
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.
My lord would speak; my duty hushes me.
How can this be?
He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side;
But in conclusion put strange speech upon me:
I know not what 'twas but distraction.
Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.
He named Sebastian: I my brother know
Yet living in my glass; even such and so
In favour was my brother, and he went
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,
For him I imitate: O, if it prove,
Tempests are kind and salt waves fresh in love.
Methinks his words do from such passion fly,
That he believes himself: so do not I.
Prove true, imagination, O, prove true,
That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you!
I know of none;
Nor know I you by voice or any feature:
I hate ingratitude more in a man
Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.
What money, sir?
For the fair kindness you have show'd me here,
And, part, being prompted by your present trouble,
Out of my lean and low ability
I'll lend you something: my having is not much;
I'll make division of my present with you:
Hold, there's ...
Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.
I do assure you, 'tis against my will.
Aside Pray God defend me! A little thing would
make me tell them how much I lack of a man.
I shall be much bound to you for't: I am one that
had rather go with sir priest than sir knight: I
care not who knows so much of my mettle.
I beseech you, what manner of man is he?
Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?
This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, do me
this courteous office, as to know of the knight what
my offence to him is: it is something of my
negligence, nothing of my purpose.
I will return again into the house and desire some
conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard
of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on
others, to taste their valour: belike this is a man
of that quirk.
I pray you, sir, what is he?
You mistake, sir; I am sure no man hath any quarrel
to me: my remembrance is very free and clear from
any image of offence done to any man.
And you, sir.
I will acquit you.
Nothing but this; your true love for my master.
With the same 'havior that your passion bears
Goes on my master's grief.
By innocence I swear, and by my youth
I have one heart, one bosom and one truth,
And that no woman has; nor never none
Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.
And so adieu, good madam: never more
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.
Would it be better, madam, than I am?
I wish it might, for now I am your fool.
Then think you right: I am not what I am.
That you do think you are not what you are.
Then westward-ho! Grace and good disposition
Attend your ladyship!
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof,
That very oft we pity enemies.
I pity you.
Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalf.
And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:
Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.
Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.
My duty, madam, and most humble service.
My matter hath no voice, to your own most pregnant
and vouchsafed ear.
I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we
Enter OLIVIA and MARIA
Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain
odours on you!
My legs do better understand me, sir, than I
understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.
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