All of Shakespeare’s plays. More…
Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads, For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son.
God keep the prince from all the pack of you! A knot you are of damned blood-suckers!
Here come the lords of Buckingham and Derby.
The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son, To be your comforter when he is gone.
In that you brook it in, it makes him worse: Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort, And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.