All of Shakespeare’s plays.
If it be so, yet bragless let it be;
Great Hector was a man as good as he.
I'll fight with him alone: stand, Diomed.
Were I the general, thou shouldst have my office
Ere that correction. Troilus, I say! what, Troilus!
What wouldst thou?
Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show thy head!
Troilus! thou coward Troilus!
No, not a whit.
No, yonder 'tis;
There, where we see the lights.
Do not chafe thee, cousin:
And you, Achilles, let these threats alone,
Till accident or purpose bring you to't:
You may have every day enough of Hector
If you have stomach; the general state, I fear,
Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him.
Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here.
If I might in entreaties find success--
As seld I have the chance--I would desire
My famous cousin to our Grecian tents.
I thank thee, Hector
Thou art too gentle and too free a man:
I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence
A great addition earned in thy death.
I am not warm yet; let us fight again.
Thou, trumpet, there's my purse.
Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe:
Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek
Outswell the colic of puff'd Aquilon:
Come, stretch thy chest and let thy eyes spout blood;
Thou blow'st for Hector.
Ay, and good next day too.
How now, Patroclus!
Shall I call you father?
A whoreson dog, that shall pelter thus with us!
Would he were a Trojan!
I will knead him; I'll make him supple.
A' should not bear it so, a' should eat swords first:
shall pride carry it?
An all men were o' my mind,--
I'll let his humours blood.
Can he not be sociable?
A paltry, insolent fellow!
An a' be proud with me, I'll pheeze his pride:
Let me go to him.
If I go to him, with my armed fist I'll pash him o'er the face.
I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads.
Why should a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I
know not what pride is.
Will you subscribe his thought, and say he is?
Is he so much? Do you not think he thinks himself a
better man than I am?
What is he more than another?
Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart: you may call it
melancholy, if you will favour the man; but, by my
head, 'tis pride: but why, why? let him show us the
cause. A word, my lord.
O, meaning you. I will go learn more of it.
Farewell. Who shall answer him?
I shall cut out your tongue.
Well, go to, go to.
I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenor of the
proclamation, and he rails upon me.
O thou damned cur! I shall--
Therefore I beat thee.
Beating him You cur!
Thou stool for a witch!
Beating him You whoreson cur!
I say, the proclamation!
Do not, porpentine, do not: my fingers itch.
Toadstool, learn me the proclamation.
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