All of Shakespeare’s plays.
My lord, the enemy is past the marsh
After the battle let George Stanley die.
A good direction, warlike sovereign.
This found I on my tent this morning.
Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field.
I warrant you, my lord.
I go, my lord.
Six or seven thousand is their utmost power.
We must both give and take, my gracious lord.
Here, most gracious liege.
An open source tool for making transcripts really easy to read, search and share on the modern web
Your donations keep this site and others like it running
A Poplus component
mySociety Limited is a project of UK Citizens Online Democracy, a registered charity in England and Wales. For full details visit mysociety.org.