This castle hath a pleasant seat. The air nimbly and sweetly recommends itself unto our gentle senses.
This guest of summer, the temple-haunting martlet, does approve, by his loved mansionry, that the heaven’s breath smells wooingly here. No jutty, frieze, buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird hath made his pendant bed and procreant cradle. Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed, the air is delicate.
Where’s the thane of Cawdor? We coursed him at the heels and had a purpose to be his purveyor; but he rides well,...
Your servants ever have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs in compt, to make their audit at your highness' pleasure, still to return your own.
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