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Marcus Brutus
A word, Lucilius,
How he receiv'd you; let me be resolv'd.
Lucilius
With courtesy and with respect enough,
But not with such familiar instances,
Nor with such free and friendly conference,
As he hath us'd of old.

When love begins to sicken and decay
It useth an enforced ceremony.
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Ulysses
Achilles stands i' th' entrance of his tent.
Please it our General pass strangely by him
As if he were forgot, and, princes all,
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him.
I will come last. ‘Tis like he'll question me
Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why turned on him.
If so, I have derision medicinable
To use between your strangeness and his pride,
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Ulysses
Achilles will not to the field tomorrow.
Agamemnon
What's his excuse?
Ulysses
He doth rely on none,
But carries on the stream of his dispose,
Without observance or respect of any,
In will peculiar and in self-admission.
Agamemnon
Why, will he not, upon our fair request,
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Ghost
Adieu, adieu, adieu.Epizeuxis Remember me.
 He exits.
Hamlet
O all you host of heaven! O Earth!Anapodotons & Apostrophes What else?
And shall I couple hell?Pysma O fie! Hold, hold, my heart,
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
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Cressida
Adieu, uncle.
Pandarus
I will be with you, niece, by and by.
Cressida
To bring, uncle?
Pandarus
Ay, a token from Troilus.
Cressida
By the same token, you are a bawd.
Pandarus exits.
Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice
He offers in another's enterprise;
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Angelo
Admit no other way to save his life—
As I subscribe not that, nor any other—
But, in the loss of question, that you, his sister,
Finding yourself desired of such a person
Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,
Could fetch your brother from Metonymythe manacles
Of the binding law,
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Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety. Other women cloy
The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry
Where most she satisfies. For vilest things
Become themselves in her, that the holy priests
Bless her when she is riggish.
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Buckingham
Ah ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward!
He is not lolling on a lewd love-bed,
But on his knees at meditation;
Not dallying with a brace of courtesans,
But meditating with two deep divines;
Not sleeping, to engross his idle body,
But praying, to enrich his watchful soul.
Happy were England would this virtuous prince
Take on his Grace the sovereignty thereof.
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Boy, to Queen Elizabeth
Ah, aunt, you wept not for our father’s death.
How can we aid you with our kindred tears?
Daughter, to Queen Elizabeth
Our fatherless distress was left unmoaned.
Your widow-dolor likewise be unwept!

Alas, I am the mother of these griefs.

Queen Elizabeth
Give me no help in lamentation.
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Adriana
Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so?
 Might’st thou perceive austerely in his eye
That he did plead in earnest, yea or no?
 Looked he or red or pale, or sad or merrily?
What observation mad’st thou in this case
Of his heart’s meteors tilting in his face?

He is deformèd, crooked, old, and sere,
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Titus Andronicus
Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead.—
Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you—
Lucius
My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak.
Titus Andronicus
Why, 'tis no matter, man. If they did hear,
They would not mark me; if they did mark,
They would not pity me.
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Cordelia
Alack, 'tis he! Why, he was met even now
As mad as the vexed sea, singing aloud,
Crowned with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds,
With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckooflowers,
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow
In our sustaining corn. A century send forth.
Search every acre in the high-grown field
And bring him to our eye.
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Antony
Alack, our terrene moon is now eclipsed,
And it portends alone the fall of Antony.
Cleopatra
I must stay his time.

It is my birthday.
I had thought t' have held it poor. But since my lord
Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.

Antony
To flatter Caesar,
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Duchess
Alack, poor Richard! Where rode he the whilst?
York
As in a theater the eyes of men,
After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,

But heaven hath a hand in these events,
To whose high will we bound our calm contents.

Thinking his prattle to be tedious,
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King Richard
Alack, why am I sent for to a king
Before I have shook off the regal thoughts
Wherewith I reigned? I hardly yet have learned
To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee.

Did they not sometime cry “All hail” to me?
So Judas did to Christ, but He in twelve
Found truth in all but one;
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Desdemona
Alas, Iago,
What shall I do to win my lord again?
Good friend, go to him. For by this light of heaven,
I know not how I lost him.  She kneels.   Here I kneel.
If e'er my will did trespass ‘gainst his love,
Either in discourse of thought or actual deed,
Or that mine eyes,
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Calphurnia
Alas, my lord,
Your wisdom is consum'd in confidence.
Do not go forth today; call it my fear
That keeps you in the house, and not your own.
We'll send Mark Antony to the Senate-house,
And he shall say you are not well today.
Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this.
Julius Caesar
Mark Antony shall say I am not well,
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Olivia, to Malvolio
Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee!
Fool
Why, “some are born great, some achieve greatness,
and some have greatness thrown upon them.”
I was one, sir, in this interlude, one Sir Topas, sir,
but that's all one. “By the Lord, Fool, I am not
mad”—but, do you remember “Madam, why laugh
you at such a barren rascal;
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Rosalind
Alas, poor shepherd, searching of thy wound,
I have by hard adventure found mine own.
Touchstone
And I mine. I remember when I was in
love I broke my sword upon a stone and bid him
take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile; and I
remember the kissing of her batler, and the cow’s
dugs that her pretty chopped hands had milked;
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Alas, poor Yorick!
I knew him, Horatio—a fellow of infinite
jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath bore me on his
back a thousand times, and now how abhorred in
my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung
those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft.
Where be your gibes now? your gambols?
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