All of Shakespeare’s plays.
Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet
you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon?
an I were not a very coward, I'ld compel it of you:
but fare you well.
God save you, noble captain.
That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends.
So, look about you: know you any here?
He hath out-villained villany so far, that the
rarity redeems him.
I begin to love him for this.
Nay look not so upon me; we shall hear of your
Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my
condition, and what credit I have with the duke.
He's very near the truth in this.
You're deceived, my lord: this is Monsieur
Parolles, the gallant militarist,--that was his own
phrase,--that had the whole theoric of war in the
knot of his scarf, and the practise in the chape of
Hoodman comes! Portotartarosa
They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness.
Here's his lordship now.
How now, my lord! is't not after midnight?
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and
ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our
faults whipped them not; and our crimes would
despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues.
Enter a Messenger
How now! where's your master?
How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses!
Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from
point, so to the full arming of the verity.
The stronger part of it by her own letters, which
makes her story true, even to the point of her
death: her death itself, which could not be her
office to say is come, was faithfully confirmed by
the rector of the place.
Sir, his wife some two months since fled from his
house: her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques
le Grand; which holy undertaking with most austere
sanctimony she accomplished; and, there residing the
tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her
grief; in fine, made a groan ...
I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether
of his council.
Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.
In the mean time, what hear you of these wars?
That approaches apace; I would gladly have him see
his company anatomized, that he might take a measure
of his own judgments, wherein so curiously he had
set this counterfeit.
Is it not meant damnable in us, to be trumpeters of
our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his
Now, God delay our rebellion! as we are ourselves,
what things are we!
When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the
grave of it.
He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking
off so good a wife and so sweet a lady.
You have not given him his mother's letter?
With all my heart, my lord.
But you say she's honest.
We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case
him. He was first smoked by the old lord Lafeu:
when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a
sprat you shall find him; which you shall see this
You do not know him, my lord, as we do: certain it
is that he will steal himself into a man's favour and
for a week escape a great deal of discoveries; but
when you find him out, you have him ever after.
That was not to be blamed in the command of the
service: it was a disaster of war that Caesar
himself could not have prevented, if he had been
there to command.
A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum.
O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum;
he says he has a stratagem for't: when your
lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, and to
what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be
melted, if you give him not John Drum's ...
None better than to let him fetch off his drum,
which you hear him so confidently undertake to do.
It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in
his virtue, which he hath not, he might at some
great and trusty business in a main danger fail you.
If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no
more in your respect.
But I am sure the younger of our nature,
That surfeit on their ease, will day by day
Come here for physic.
Holy seems the quarrel
Upon your grace's part; black and fearful
On the opposer.
And grant it.
We shall, noble captain.
There's honour in the theft.
O, my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us!
'Tis our hope, sir,
After well enter'd soldiers, to return
And find your grace in health.
It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord,
His love and wisdom,
Approved so to your majesty, may plead
For amplest credence.
So 'tis reported, sir.
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