All of Shakespeare’s plays.
Pardon, good father! good my mother, pardon!
Alas, I had rather be set quick i' the earth
And bowl'd to death with turnips!
Good mother, do not marry me to yond fool.
I mean, Master Slender, what would you with me?
What is your will?
Now, Master Slender,--
Good Master Shallow, let him woo for himself.
I come to him.
This is my father's choice.
O, what a world of vile ill-favor'd faults
Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a-year!
Gentle Master Fenton,
Yet seek my father's love; still seek it, sir:
If opportunity and humblest suit
Cannot attain it, why, then,--hark you hither!
May be he tells you true.
Alas, how then?
Not I, sir; pray you, keep on.
Ay, indeed, sir.
I think there are, sir; I heard them talked of.
I pray you, sir, walk in.
I may not go in without your worship: they will not
sit till you come.
The dinner attends you, sir.
Will't please your worship to come in, sir?
The dinner is on the table; my father desires your
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