All of Shakespeare’s plays. More…

The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth,
And, stickler-like, the armies separates.
My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed,
Pleased with this dainty bait, thus goes to bed.
Sheathes his sword
Come, tie his body to my horse's tail;
Along the field I will the Trojan trail.

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