# Result number

Work The work is either a play, poem, or sonnet. The sonnets are treated as single work with 154 parts.

Character Indicates who said the line. If it's a play or sonnet, the character name is "Poet."

Line Shows where the line falls within the work.

The numbering is not keyed to any copyrighted numbering system found in a volume of collected works (Arden, Oxford, etc.) The numbering starts at the beginning of the work, and does not restart for each scene.

Text The line's full text, with keywords highlighted within it, unless highlighting has been disabled by the user.

1

Henry IV, Part II
[II, 1]

Hostess Quickly

812

Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself and the
too. Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet,
my Dolphin chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire,
Wednesday in Wheeson week, when the Prince broke thy head for
liking his father to singing-man of Windsor—thou didst swear
me then, as I was washing thy wound, to marry me and make me
lady thy wife. Canst thou deny it? Did not goodwife Keech,
butcher's wife, come in then and call me gossip Quickly?
in to borrow a mess of vinegar, telling us she had a good
prawns, whereby thou didst desire to eat some, whereby I told
thee they were ill for green wound? And didst thou not, when
was gone down stairs, desire me to be no more so familiarity
such poor people, saying that ere long they should call me
And didst thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch the thirty
shillings? I put thee now to thy book-oath. Deny it, if thou
canst.

2

Henry IV, Part II
[II, 4]

Hostess Quickly

1440

O' my word, Captain, there's none such here. What the
good-year! do you think I would deny her? For God's sake, be
quiet.

3

Henry IV, Part II
[III, 1]

Henry IV

1705

Go call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick;
But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters
And well consider of them. Make good speed. Exit page
How many thousands of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee,
That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,
And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody?
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile
In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch
A watch-case or a common 'larum-bell?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge,
And in the visitation of the winds,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deafing clamour in the slippery clouds,
That with the hurly death itself awakes?
Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude;
And in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down!
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.