All of Shakespeare’s plays.
Wilt thou go?
Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee.
In thy tail!
Where should I lose my tongue?
Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood, and, in
losing the flood, lose thy voyage, and, in losing
thy voyage, lose thy master, and, in losing thy
master, lose thy service, and, in losing thy
service,--Why dost thou stop my mouth?
What's the unkindest tide?
Launce, away, away, aboard! thy master is shipped
and thou art to post after with oars. What's the
matter? why weepest thou, man? Away, ass! You'll
lose the tide, if you tarry any longer.
Sir Proteus, you are stay'd for.
Sir Proteus, your father calls for you:
He is in haste; therefore, I pray you to go.
To-morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso,
With other gentlemen of good esteem,
Are journeying to salute the emperor
And to commend their service to his will.
'Twere good, I think, your lordship sent him thither:
There shall he practise tilts and tournaments,
Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen.
And be in eye of every exercise
Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth.
I think your lordship is not ignorant
How his companion, youthful Valentine,
Attends the emperor in his royal court.
He wonder'd that your lordship
Would suffer him to spend his youth at home,
While other men, of slender reputation,
Put forth their sons to seek preferment out:
Some to the wars, to try their fortune there;
Some to discover islands far away;
Some to the studious universities.
'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son.
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 is a registered charity in England and Wales (1076346) and a limited company (03277032). We provide commercial
services through our wholly owned subsidiary