All of Shakespeare’s plays.
If traffic do it, the gods do it.
He'll spare none.
No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue,
Which all men speak with him.
'Tis a good form.
O, pray, let's see't: for the Lord Timon, sir?
A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were,
To an untirable and continuate goodness:
O, 'tis a worthy lord.
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