id	author	title	date	pages	extension	mime	words	sentences	flesch	summary	cache	txt
38901	Kemble, John Philip	Twelfth Night; or, What You Will			.txt	text/plain	18314	3610	102	_Mar._ By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights; turn o' the toe like a parish-top--See, here comes Sir Andrew Ague-face. _Sir To._ Art thou good at these kick-shaws, knight? _Clo._ Good Sir Toby,---_Sir And._ Begin, fool: it begins,--[_Sings._] _Hold thy peace._ _Mar._ Nay, good Sir Toby. _Sir To._ He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that _Sir To._ Let's to bed, knight.--Thou hadst need send for more _Duke._ Come hither, boy:--If ever thou shalt love, _Vio._ But, if she cannot love you, sir? _Sir To._ Come thy ways, Signior Fabian. _Vio._ Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool? _Clo._ No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly: she will keep _Fab._ [_Parts them._] O good Sir Toby, hold; here come the _Sir To._ What, man!--Come on. _Fab._ Hold, good Sir Toby, hold:--my lady here! _Vio._ Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.	./cache/38901.txt	./txt/38901.txt