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Result number
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Work
The work is either a play, poem, or sonnet. The sonnets
are treated as single work with 154 parts.
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Character
Indicates who said the line. If it's a play or sonnet,
the character name is "Poet."
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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.
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Text
The line's full text, with keywords highlighted
within it, unless highlighting has been disabled by the user.
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1 |
All's Well That Ends Well
[I, 3] |
Clown |
377 |
A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next
way:
For I the ballad will repeat,
Which men full true shall find;
Your marriage comes by destiny,
Your cuckoo sings by kind.
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2 |
All's Well That Ends Well
[III, 2] |
Helena |
1509 |
'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.'
Nothing in France, until he has no wife!
Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France;
Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! is't I
That chase thee from thy country and expose
Those tender limbs of thine to the event
Of the none-sparing war? and is it I
That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers,
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
Fly with false aim; move the still-peering air,
That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord.
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there;
Whoever charges on his forward breast,
I am the caitiff that do hold him to't;
And, though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so effected: better 'twere
I met the ravin lion when he roar'd
With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere
That all the miseries which nature owes
Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon,
Whence honour but of danger wins a scar,
As oft it loses all: I will be gone;
My being here it is that holds thee hence:
Shall I stay here to do't? no, no, although
The air of paradise did fan the house
And angels officed all: I will be gone,
That pitiful rumour may report my flight,
To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day!
For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away.
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3 |
All's Well That Ends Well
[IV, 3] |
First Lord |
2136 |
Sir, his wife some two months since fled from his
house: her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques
le Grand; which holy undertaking with most austere
sanctimony she accomplished; and, there residing the
tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her
grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and
now she sings in heaven.
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4 |
Cymbeline
[II, 3] |
Cloten |
987 |
I would this music would come: I am advised to give
her music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate.
[Enter Musicians]
Come on; tune: if you can penetrate her with your
fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: if none
will do, let her remain; but I'll never give o'er.
First, a very excellent good-conceited thing;
after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich
words to it: and then let her consider.
[SONG]
Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With every thing that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
Arise, arise.
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5 |
Cymbeline
[IV, 2] |
Arviragus |
2379 |
How angel-like he sings!
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6 |
Hamlet
[IV, 5] |
Ophelia |
2882 |
[sings]
How should I your true-love know
From another one?
By his cockle bat and' staff
And his sandal shoon.
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7 |
Hamlet
[IV, 5] |
Ophelia |
2888 |
Say you? Nay, pray You mark.
(Sings) He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone;
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.
O, ho!
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8 |
Hamlet
[IV, 5] |
Ophelia |
2895 |
Pray you mark.
(Sings) White his shroud as the mountain snow-
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9 |
Hamlet
[IV, 5] |
Ophelia |
2899 |
[Sings]
Larded all with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did not go
With true-love showers.
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10 |
Hamlet
[IV, 5] |
Ophelia |
2908 |
Pray let's have no words of this; but when they ask, you what
it means, say you this:
(Sings) To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,
All in the morning bedtime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose and donn'd his clo'es
And dupp'd the chamber door,
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more.
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11 |
Hamlet
[IV, 5] |
Ophelia |
2919 |
Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't!
[Sings] By Gis and by Saint Charity,
Alack, and fie for shame!
Young men will do't if they come to't
By Cock, they are to blame.
Quoth she, 'Before you tumbled me,
You promis'd me to wed.'
He answers:
'So would I 'a' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.'
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12 |
Hamlet
[IV, 5] |
Ophelia |
3042 |
[sings]
They bore him barefac'd on the bier
(Hey non nony, nony, hey nony)
And in his grave rain'd many a tear.
Fare you well, my dove!
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13 |
Hamlet
[IV, 5] |
Ophelia |
3056 |
There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for you,
and here's some for me. We may call it herb of grace o' Sundays.
O, you must wear your rue with a difference! There's a daisy. I
would give you some violets, but they wither'd all when my father
died. They say he made a good end.
[Sings] For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.
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14 |
Hamlet
[IV, 5] |
Ophelia |
3064 |
[sings]
And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead;
Go to thy deathbed;
He never will come again.
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll.
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away moan.
God 'a'mercy on his soul!
And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God b' wi' you.
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15 |
Hamlet
[V, 1] |
(stage directions) |
3402 |
[Clown digs and] sings.
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16 |
Hamlet
[V, 1] |
Hamlet |
3407 |
Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at
grave-making?
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17 |
Hamlet
[V, 1] |
First Clown |
3412 |
[sings]
But age with his stealing steps
Hath clawed me in his clutch,
And hath shipped me intil the land,
As if I had never been such.
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18 |
Hamlet
[V, 1] |
First Clown |
3434 |
[Sings]
A pickaxe and a spade, a spade,
For and a shrouding sheet;
O, a Pit of clay for to be made
For such a guest is meet.
Throws up [another skull].
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19 |
Hamlet
[V, 1] |
First Clown |
3458 |
Mine, sir.
[Sings] O, a pit of clay for to be made
For such a guest is meet.
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20 |
Henry IV, Part I
[III, 1] |
Hotspur (Henry Percy) |
1796 |
Peace! she sings.
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