xnsmv/testtesttest huggingface dataset:
Viola Cesario: Love make his heart of flint that you shall love,
Viola Cesario: And let your fervor, like my master’s, be
Viola Cesario: Placed in contempt. Farewell, fair cruelty.
Viola Cesario: Even now, sir. On a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither.
Viola Cesario: She took the ring of me. I’ll none of it.
Viola Cesario: I left no ring with her. What means this lady?
Viola Cesario: Fortune forbid my outside have not charmed her!
Viola Cesario: She made good view of me, indeed so much
Viola Cesario: That methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
Viola Cesario: For she did speak in starts distractedly.
Viola Cesario: She loves me, sure! The cunning of her passion
Viola Cesario: Invites me in this churlish messenger.
Viola Cesario: None of my lord’s ring? Why, he sent her none!
Viola Cesario: I am the man. If it be so, as ’tis,
Viola Cesario: Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Viola Cesario: Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness
Viola Cesario: Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
Viola Cesario: How easy is it for the proper false
Viola Cesario: In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!
Viola Cesario: Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we,
Viola Cesario: For such as we are made of, such we be.
Viola Cesario: How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly,
Viola Cesario: And I, poor monster, fond as much on him,
Viola Cesario: And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
Viola Cesario: What will become of this? As I am man,
Viola Cesario: My state is desperate for my master’s love.
Viola Cesario: As I am woman ( now, alas the day!),
Viola Cesario: What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe!
Viola Cesario: O Time, thou must untangle this, not I.
Viola Cesario: It is too hard a knot for me t’ untie.
Viola Cesario: It gives a very echo to the seat
Viola Cesario: Where love is throned.
Viola Cesario: A little, by your favor.
Viola Cesario: Of your complexion.
Viola Cesario: About your years, my lord.
Viola Cesario: I think it well, my lord.
Viola Cesario: And so they are. Alas, that they are so,
Viola Cesario: To die even when they to perfection grow!
Viola Cesario: But if she cannot love you, sir—
Viola Cesario: Sooth, but you must.
Viola Cesario: Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
Viola Cesario: Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
Viola Cesario: As you have for Olivia. You cannot love her;
Viola Cesario: You tell her so. Must she not then be answered?
Viola Cesario: Ay, but I know—
Viola Cesario: Too well what love women to men may owe.
Viola Cesario: In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
Viola Cesario: My father had a daughter loved a man
Viola Cesario: As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
Viola Cesario: I should your Lordship.
Viola Cesario: A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
Viola Cesario: But let concealment, like a worm i’ th’ bud,
Viola Cesario: Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought,
Viola Cesario: And with a green and yellow melancholy
Viola Cesario: She sat like Patience on a monument,
Viola Cesario: Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
Viola Cesario: We men may say more, swear more, but indeed
Viola Cesario: Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Viola Cesario: Much in our vows but little in our love.
Viola Cesario: I am all the daughters of my father’s house,
Viola Cesario: And all the brothers, too— and yet I know not.
Viola Cesario: Sir, shall I to this lady?
Viola Cesario: Save thee, friend, and thy music. Dost thou live by thy tabor?
Viola Cesario: Art thou a churchman?
Viola Cesario: So thou mayst say the king lies by a beggar if a beggar dwell near him, or the church stands by thy tabor if thy tabor stand by the church.
Viola Cesario: Nay, that’s certain. They that dally nicely with words may quickly make them wanton.
Viola Cesario: Why, man?
Viola Cesario: Thy reason, man?
Viola Cesario: I warrant thou art a merry fellow and car’st for nothing.
Viola Cesario: Art not thou the Lady Olivia’s Fool?
Viola Cesario: I saw thee late at the Count Orsino’s.
Viola Cesario: Nay, an thou pass upon me, I’ll no more with thee. Hold, there’s expenses for thee.
Viola Cesario: By my troth I’ll tell thee, I am almost sick for one, though I would not have it grow on my chin.— Is thy lady within?
Viola Cesario: Yes, being kept together and put to use.
Viola Cesario: I understand you, sir. ’Tis well begged.
Viola Cesario: This fellow is wise enough to play the Fool,
Viola Cesario: And to do that well craves a kind of wit.
Viola Cesario: He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
Viola Cesario: The quality of persons, and the time,
Viola Cesario: And, like the haggard, check at every feather
Viola Cesario: That comes before his eye. This is a practice
Viola Cesario: As full of labor as a wise man’s art:
Viola Cesario: For folly that he wisely shows is fit;
Viola Cesario: But wise men, folly-fall’n, quite taint their wit.
Viola Cesario: And you, sir.
Viola Cesario: Et vous aussi. Votre serviteur!
Viola Cesario: I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the list of my voyage.
Viola Cesario: My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs.
Viola Cesario: I will answer you with gait and entrance— but we are prevented.
Viola Cesario: Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odors on you!
Viola Cesario: My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear.
Viola Cesario: My duty, madam, and most humble service.
Viola Cesario: Cesario is your servant’s name, fair princess.
Viola Cesario: And he is yours, and his must needs be yours.
Viola Cesario: Your servant’s servant is your servant, madam.
Viola Cesario: Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
Viola Cesario: On his behalf.
Viola Cesario: Dear lady—
Viola Cesario: I pity you.
Viola Cesario: No, not a grize, for ’tis a vulgar proof
Viola Cesario: That very oft we pity enemies.
Viola Cesario: Then westward ho!
Viola Cesario: Grace and good disposition attend your Ladyship.
Viola Cesario: You’ll nothing, madam, to my lord by me?
Viola Cesario: That you do think you are not what you are.
Viola Cesario: Then think you right. I am not what I am.
Viola Cesario: Would it be better, madam, than I am?
Viola Cesario: I wish it might, for now I am your fool.
Viola Cesario: By innocence I swear, and by my youth,
Viola Cesario: I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth,
Viola Cesario: And that no woman has, nor never none
Viola Cesario: Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.
Viola Cesario: And so adieu, good madam. Nevermore
Viola Cesario: Will I my master’s tears to you deplore.
Viola Cesario: With the same ’havior that your passion bears
Viola Cesario: Goes on my master’s griefs.
Viola Cesario: Nothing but this: your true love for my master.
Viola Cesario: I will acquit you.
Viola Cesario: You mistake, sir. I am sure no man hath any quarrel to me. My remembrance is very free and clear from any image of offense done to any man.
Viola Cesario: I pray you, sir, what is he?
Viola Cesario: I will return again into the house and desire some conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others to taste their valor. Belike this is a man of that quirk.
Viola Cesario: This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, do me this courteous office, as to know of the knight what my offense to him is. It is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose.
Viola Cesario: Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter?
Viola Cesario: I beseech you, what manner of man is he?
Viola Cesario: I shall be much bound to you for ’t. I am one that had rather go with Sir Priest than Sir Knight, I care not who knows so much of my mettle.
Viola Cesario: Pray God defend me! A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man.
Viola Cesario: I do assure you ’tis against my will.
Viola Cesario: Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please.
Viola Cesario: What money, sir?
Viola Cesario: For the fair kindness you have showed me here,
Viola Cesario: And part being prompted by your present trouble,
Viola Cesario: Out of my lean and low ability
Viola Cesario: I’ll lend you something. My having is not much.
Viola Cesario: I’ll make division of my present with you.
Viola Cesario: Hold, there’s half my coffer.
Viola Cesario: I know of none,
Viola Cesario: Nor know I you by voice or any feature.
Viola Cesario: I hate ingratitude more in a man
Viola Cesario: Than lying, vainness, babbling drunkenness,
Viola Cesario: Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption
Viola Cesario: Inhabits our frail blood—
Viola Cesario: Methinks his words do from such passion fly
Viola Cesario: That he believes himself; so do not I.
Viola Cesario: Prove true, imagination, O, prove true,
Viola Cesario: That I, dear brother, be now ta’en for you!
Viola Cesario: He named Sebastian. I my brother know
Viola Cesario: Yet living in my glass. Even such and so
Viola Cesario: In favor was my brother, and he went
Viola Cesario: Still in this fashion, color, ornament,
Viola Cesario: For him I imitate. O, if it prove,
Viola Cesario: Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love!
Viola Cesario: Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.
Viola Cesario: He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side,
Viola Cesario: But in conclusion put strange speech upon me.
Viola Cesario: I know not what ’twas but distraction.
Viola Cesario: How can this be?
Viola Cesario: Madam?
Viola Cesario: My lord would speak; my duty hushes me.
Viola Cesario: And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly,
Viola Cesario: To do you rest a thousand deaths would die.
Viola Cesario: After him I love
Viola Cesario: More than I love these eyes, more than my life,
Viola Cesario: More by all mores than e’er I shall love wife.
Viola Cesario: If I do feign, you witnesses above,
Viola Cesario: Punish my life for tainting of my love.
Viola Cesario: Who does beguile you? Who does do you wrong?
Viola Cesario: No, my lord, not I.
Viola Cesario: My lord, I do protest—
Viola Cesario: Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you.
Viola Cesario: You drew your sword upon me without cause,
Viola Cesario: But I bespake you fair and hurt you not.
Viola Cesario: Of Messaline. Sebastian was my father.
Viola Cesario: Such a Sebastian was my brother too.
Viola Cesario: So went he suited to his watery tomb.
Viola Cesario: If spirits can assume both form and suit,
Viola Cesario: You come to fright us.
Viola Cesario: My father had a mole upon his brow.
Viola Cesario: And died that day when Viola from her birth
Viola Cesario: Had numbered thirteen years.
Viola Cesario: If nothing lets to make us happy both
Viola Cesario: But this my masculine usurped attire,
Viola Cesario: Do not embrace me till each circumstance
Viola Cesario: Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump
Viola Cesario: That I am Viola; which to confirm,
Viola Cesario: I’ll bring you to a captain in this town,
Viola Cesario: Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help
Viola Cesario: I was preserved to serve this noble count.
Viola Cesario: All the occurrence of my fortune since
Viola Cesario: Hath been between this lady and this lord.
Viola Cesario: And all those sayings will I overswear,
Viola Cesario: And all those swearings keep as true in soul
Viola Cesario: As doth that orbèd continent the fire
Viola Cesario: That severs day from night.
Viola Cesario: The Captain that did bring me first on shore
Viola Cesario: Hath my maid’s garments. He, upon some action,
Viola Cesario: Is now in durance at Malvolio’s suit,
Viola Cesario: A gentleman and follower of my lady’s.
Captain: This is Illyria, lady.
Captain: It is perchance that you yourself were saved.
Captain: True, madam. And to comfort you with chance,
Captain: Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
Captain: When you and those poor number saved with you
Captain: Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
Captain: Most provident in peril, bind himself
Captain: ( Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)
Captain: To a strong mast that lived upon the sea,
Captain: Where, like Arion on the dolphin’s back,
Captain: I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves
Captain: So long as I could see.
Captain: Ay, madam, well, for I was bred and born
Captain: Not three hours’ travel from this very place.
Captain: A noble duke, in nature as in name.
Captain: Orsino.
Captain: And so is now, or was so very late;
Captain: For but a month ago I went from hence,
Captain: And then ’twas fresh in murmur ( as, you know,
Captain: What great ones do the less will prattle of)
Captain: That he did seek the love of fair Olivia.
Captain: A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count
Captain: That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her
Captain: In the protection of his son, her brother,
Captain: Who shortly also died, for whose dear love,
Captain: They say, she hath abjured the sight
Captain: And company of men.
Captain: That were hard to compass
Captain: Because she will admit no kind of suit,
Captain: No, not the Duke’s.
Captain: Be you his eunuch, and your mute I’ll be.
Captain: When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.
Sir Toby Belch: What a plague means my niece to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care’s an enemy to life.
Sir Toby Belch: Why, let her except before excepted!
Sir Toby Belch: Confine? I’ll confine myself no finer than I am. These clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too. An they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps!
Sir Toby Belch: Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
Sir Toby Belch: He’s as tall a man as any ’s in Illyria.
Sir Toby Belch: Why, he has three thousand ducats a year!
Sir Toby Belch: Fie that you’ll say so! He plays o’ th’ viol-de-gamboys and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature.
Sir Toby Belch: By this hand, they are scoundrels and substractors that say so of him. Who are they?
Sir Toby Belch: With drinking healths to my niece. I’ll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria. He’s a coward and a coistrel that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o’ th’ toe like a parish top. What, wench! Castiliano vulgo, for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.
Sir Toby Belch: Sweet Sir Andrew!
Sir Toby Belch: Accost, Sir Andrew, accost!
Sir Toby Belch: My niece’s chambermaid.
Sir Toby Belch: You mistake, knight. “ Accost” is front her, board her, woo her, assail her.
Sir Toby Belch: An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never draw sword again.
Sir Toby Belch: O knight, thou lack’st a cup of canary! When did I see thee so put down?
Sir Toby Belch: No question.
Sir Toby Belch: Pourquoi, my dear knight?
Sir Toby Belch: Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.
Sir Toby Belch: Past question, for thou seest it will not curl by nature.
Sir Toby Belch: Excellent! It hangs like flax on a distaff, and I hope to see a huswife take thee between her legs and spin it off.
Sir Toby Belch: She’ll none o’ th’ Count. She’ll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit. I have heard her swear ’t. Tut, there’s life in ’t, man.
Sir Toby Belch: Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?
Sir Toby Belch: What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
Sir Toby Belch: And I can cut the mutton to ’t.
Sir Toby Belch: Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore have these gifts a curtain before ’em? Are they like to take dust, like Mistress Mall’s picture? Why dost thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig. I would not so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.
Sir Toby Belch: What shall we do else? Were we not born under Taurus?
Sir Toby Belch: No, sir, it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper. Ha, higher! Ha, ha, excellent!
Sir Toby Belch: A gentleman.
Sir Toby Belch: ’Tis a gentleman here— a plague o’ these pickle herring!— How now, sot?
Sir Toby Belch: Lechery? I defy lechery. There’s one at the gate.
Sir Toby Belch: Let him be the devil an he will, I care not. Give me faith, say I. Well, it’s all one.
Sir Toby Belch: Approach, Sir Andrew. Not to be abed after midnight is to be up betimes, and “ diluculo surgere,” thou know’st—
Sir Toby Belch: A false conclusion. I hate it as an unfilled can. To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is early, so that to go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes. Does not our lives consist of the four elements?
Sir Toby Belch: Thou ’rt a scholar. Let us therefore eat and drink. Marian, I say, a stoup of wine!
Sir Toby Belch: Welcome, ass! Now let’s have a catch.
Sir Toby Belch: Come on, there is sixpence for you. Let’s have a song.
Sir Toby Belch: A love song, a love song.
Sir Toby Belch: Good, good.
Sir Toby Belch: A contagious breath.
Sir Toby Belch: To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? Shall we rouse the night owl in a catch that will draw three souls out of one weaver? Shall we do that?
Sir Toby Belch: My lady’s a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio’s a Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three merry men be we. Am not I consanguineous? Am I not of her blood? Tillyvally! “ Lady”! There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady.
Sir Toby Belch: O’ the twelfth day of December—
Sir Toby Belch: We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!
Sir Toby Belch: Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.
Sir Toby Belch: But I will never die.
Sir Toby Belch: Shall I bid him go?
Sir Toby Belch: Shall I bid him go, and spare not?
Sir Toby Belch: Out o’ tune, sir? You lie. Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?
Sir Toby Belch: Thou ’rt i’ th’ right.— Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs.— A stoup of wine, Maria!
Sir Toby Belch: Do ’t, knight. I’ll write thee a challenge. Or I’ll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.
Sir Toby Belch: Possess us, possess us, tell us something of him.
Sir Toby Belch: What, for being a puritan? Thy exquisite reason, dear knight?
Sir Toby Belch: What wilt thou do?
Sir Toby Belch: Excellent! I smell a device.
Sir Toby Belch: He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she’s in love with him.
Sir Toby Belch: Good night, Penthesilea.
Sir Toby Belch: She’s a beagle true bred, and one that adores me. What o’ that?
Sir Toby Belch: Let’s to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for more money.
Sir Toby Belch: Send for money, knight. If thou hast her not i’ th’ end, call me “ Cut.”
Sir Toby Belch: Come, come, I’ll go burn some sack. ’Tis too late to go to bed now. Come, knight; come, knight.
Sir Toby Belch: Come thy ways, Signior Fabian.
Sir Toby Belch: Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame?
Sir Toby Belch: To anger him, we’ll have the bear again, and we will fool him black and blue, shall we not, Sir Andrew?
Sir Toby Belch: Here comes the little villain.— How now, my metal of India?
Sir Toby Belch: Here’s an overweening rogue.
Sir Toby Belch: Peace, I say.
Sir Toby Belch: Ah, rogue!
Sir Toby Belch: Peace, peace!
Sir Toby Belch: O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye!
Sir Toby Belch: Fire and brimstone!
Sir Toby Belch: Bolts and shackles!
Sir Toby Belch: Shall this fellow live?
Sir Toby Belch: And does not Toby take you a blow o’ the lips then?
Sir Toby Belch: What, what?
Sir Toby Belch: Out, scab!
Sir Toby Belch: O, peace, and the spirit of humors intimate reading aloud to him.
Sir Toby Belch: Marry, hang thee, brock!
Sir Toby Belch: Excellent wench, say I.
Sir Toby Belch: And with what wing the staniel checks at it!
Sir Toby Belch: O, ay, make up that.— He is now at a cold scent.
Sir Toby Belch: Ay, or I’ll cudgel him and make him cry “ O.”
Sir Toby Belch: I could marry this wench for this device.
Sir Toby Belch: And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest.
Sir Toby Belch: Wilt thou set thy foot o’ my neck?
Sir Toby Belch: Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip and become thy bondslave?
Sir Toby Belch: Why, thou hast put him in such a dream that when the image of it leaves him he must run mad.
Sir Toby Belch: Like aqua vitae with a midwife.
Sir Toby Belch: To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit!
Sir Toby Belch: Save you, gentleman.
Sir Toby Belch: Will you encounter the house? My niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.
Sir Toby Belch: Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion.
Sir Toby Belch: I mean, to go, sir, to enter.
Sir Toby Belch: Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.
Sir Toby Belch: Did she see thee the while, old boy? Tell me that.
Sir Toby Belch: And they have been grand-jurymen since before Noah was a sailor.
Sir Toby Belch: Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valor. Challenge me the Count’s youth to fight with him. Hurt him in eleven places. My niece shall take note of it, and assure thyself there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man’s commendation with woman than report of valor.
Sir Toby Belch: Go, write it in a martial hand. Be curst and brief. It is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and full of invention. Taunt him with the license of ink. If thou “thou”-est him some thrice, it shall not be amiss, and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England, set ’em down. Go, about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter. About it.
Sir Toby Belch: We’ll call thee at the cubiculo. Go.
Sir Toby Belch: I have been dear to him, lad, some two thousand strong or so.
Sir Toby Belch: Never trust me, then. And by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were opened and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I’ll eat the rest of th’ anatomy.
Sir Toby Belch: Look where the youngest wren of mine comes.
Sir Toby Belch: And cross-gartered?
Sir Toby Belch: Come, bring us, bring us where he is.
Sir Toby Belch: Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all the devils of hell be drawn in little, and Legion himself possessed him, yet I’ll speak to him.
Sir Toby Belch: Go to, go to! Peace, peace. We must deal gently with him. Let me alone.— How do you, Malvolio? How is ’t with you? What, man, defy the devil! Consider, he’s an enemy to mankind.
Sir Toby Belch: Prithee, hold thy peace. This is not the way. Do you not see you move him? Let me alone with him.
Sir Toby Belch: Why, how now, my bawcock? How dost thou, chuck?
Sir Toby Belch: Ay, biddy, come with me.— What, man, ’tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan. Hang him, foul collier!
Sir Toby Belch: Is ’t possible?
Sir Toby Belch: His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man.
Sir Toby Belch: Come, we’ll have him in a dark room and bound. My niece is already in the belief that he’s mad. We may carry it thus, for our pleasure and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to have mercy on him, at which time we will bring the device to the bar and crown thee for a finder of madmen. But see, but see!
Sir Toby Belch: Give me. Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.
Sir Toby Belch: Go, Sir Andrew. Scout me for him at the corner of the orchard like a bum-baily. So soon as ever thou seest him, draw, and as thou draw’st, swear horrible, for it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him. Away!
Sir Toby Belch: Now will not I deliver his letter, for the behavior of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity and breeding; his employment between his lord and my niece confirms no less. Therefore, this letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth. He will find it comes from a clodpoll. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth, set upon Aguecheek a notable report of valor, and drive the gentleman ( as I know his youth will aptly receive it) into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and impetuosity. This will so fright them both that they will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices.
Sir Toby Belch: I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge.