Quotes William Shakespeare - page 14
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You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!
A fusty nut with no kernel.
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Away, you mouldy rogue, away!
Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you!
O braggart vile and damned furious wight!
Avaunt, you cullions!
He is white-livered and red-faced.
They are hare-brain'd slaves.
Take her away; for she hath lived too long,
To fill the world with vicious qualities.
I had rather chop this hand off at a blow,
And with the other fling it at thy face.
I scorn you, scurvy companion.
Hang him, swaggering rascal!
There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune.
The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes.
Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane,
Drink off this potion!
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Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born,
To signify thou camest to bite the world.
