You starvelling, you eel-skin, you dried neat's-tongue, you bull's-pizzle, you stock-fish--O for breath to utter what is like thee!-you tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck!
Taken from: Henry IV, part I
Adapted for the Web by Chris Seidel.
Wiz Quip |
Fund Predictor |
Fractals |
Zenith Poetry |
PegBoard |
Converter | Home
© Copyright 1996