All of Shakespeare’s plays. More…
Out, gall!
Why no, you ruinous butt, you whoreson indistinguishable cur, no.
Why thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest thou to curse thus?
Male varlet, you rogue! what's that?
Well said, adversity! and what need these tricks?
Who keeps the tent now?
Here comes Thersites.
Both take and give.
Paris and I kiss evermore for him.
The first was Menelaus' kiss; this, mine: Patroclus kisses you.
But that's no argument for kissing now; For this popp'd Paris in his hardiment, And parted thus you and your argument.
Your answer, sir.
What say you to't?
Ay, my lord.
And to procure safe-conduct from Agamemnon.
Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent,--
I come from the worthy Achilles,--
Jove bless great Ajax!
O, then, beware; Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves: Omission to do what is necessary Seals a commission to a blank of danger; And danger, like an ague, subtly taints Even then when we sit idly in the sun.
Ay, and perhaps receive much honour by him.
To this effect, Achilles, have I moved you: A woman impudent and mannish grown Is not more loathed than an effeminate man In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this; They think my little stomach to the war And your great love to me restrains you thus: Sweet ...
They pass by strangely: they were used to bend To send their smiles before them to Achilles; To come as humbly as they used to creep To holy altars.
I shall; and bring his answer presently.
Achilles bids me say, he is much sorry, If any thing more than your sport and pleasure Did move your greatness and this noble state To call upon him; he hopes it is no other But for your health and your digestion sake, And after-dinner's breath.
I shall say so to him.
Within his tent; but ill disposed, my lord.
Why am I a fool?
You rascal!
Thou mayst tell that knowest.
Thy lord, Thersites: then tell me, I pray thee, what's thyself?
Thersites, my lord.
What, art thou devout? wast thou in prayer?
Who's there? Thersites! Good Thersites, come in and rail.
A good riddance.
No more words, Thersites; peace!
Good words, Thersites.