All of Shakespeare’s plays.
She shall not.
Come, come, you're mocking: we will have no telling.
Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh,
Till I be brought to such a silly pass!
Right, I mean you.
Your husband, being troubled with a shrew,
Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe:
And now you know my meaning,
Thus I conceive by him.
He that is giddy thinks the world turns round.
Then never trust me, if I be afeard.
An open source tool for making transcripts really easy to read, search and share on the modern web
Your donations keep this site and others like it running
A Poplus component
mySociety Limited is a project of UK Citizens Online Democracy, a registered charity in England and Wales. For full details visit mysociety.org.