# 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

Twelfth Night
[I, 3]

Sir Toby Belch

147

By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors
that say so of him. Who are they?

2

Twelfth Night
[I, 3]

Sir Andrew Aguecheek

174

An you part so, mistress, I would I might never
draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have
fools in hand?

3

Twelfth Night
[I, 3]

Maria

177

Sir, I have not you by the hand.

4

Twelfth Night
[I, 3]

Sir Andrew Aguecheek

178

Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand.

5

Twelfth Night
[I, 3]

Maria

179

Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray you, bring
your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink.

6

Twelfth Night
[I, 3]

Sir Andrew Aguecheek

183

Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can
keep my hand dry. But what's your jest?

7

Twelfth Night
[I, 3]

Maria

187

Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry,
now I let go your hand, I am barren.

8

Twelfth Night
[I, 5]

Viola

500

It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of
war, no taxation of homage: I hold the olive in my
hand; my words are as fun of peace as matter.

9

Twelfth Night
[I, 5]

Viola

527

'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave
And leave the world no copy.

10

Twelfth Night
[II, 3]

Feste

728

I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose
is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the
Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses.

11

Twelfth Night
[II, 3]

Malvolio

821

Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any
thing more than contempt, you would not give means
for this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand.

12

Twelfth Night
[II, 5]

Malvolio

1092

I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar
smile with an austere regard of control,—

13

Twelfth Night
[II, 5]

Malvolio

1111

By my life, this is my lady's hand these be her
very C's, her U's and her T's and thus makes she her
great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.

14

Twelfth Night
[II, 5]

Malvolio

1160

M, O, A, I; this simulation is not as the former: and
yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for
every one of these letters are in my name. Soft!
here follows prose.
[Reads]
'If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I
am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some
are born great, some achieve greatness, and some
have greatness thrust upon 'em. Thy Fates open
their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them;
and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be,
cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. Be
opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let
thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into
the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee
that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy
yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever
cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to, thou art
made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see
thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and
not worthy to touch Fortune's fingers. Farewell.
She that would alter services with thee,
THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY.'
Daylight and champaign discovers not more: this is
open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors,
I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross
acquaintance, I will be point-devise the very man.
I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade
me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady
loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of
late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered;
and in this she manifests herself to my love, and
with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits
of her liking. I thank my stars I am happy. I will
be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and
cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting
on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a
postscript.
[Reads]
'Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou
entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling;
thy smiles become thee well; therefore in my
presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.'
Jove, I thank thee: I will smile; I will do
everything that thou wilt have me.

15

Twelfth Night
[III, 1]

Olivia

1327

Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing.
[Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and MARIA]
Give me your hand, sir.

16

Twelfth Night
[III, 2]

Fabian

1420

She did show favour to the youth in your sight only
to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to
put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver.
You should then have accosted her; and with some
excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should
have banged the youth into dumbness. This was
looked for at your hand, and this was balked: the
double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash
off, and you are now sailed into the north of my
lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle
on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by
some laudable attempt either of valour or policy.

17

Twelfth Night
[III, 2]

Sir Toby Belch

1443

Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief;
it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun
of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink:
if thou thou'st 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.

18

Twelfth Night
[III, 4]

Malvolio

1572

Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs. It
did come to his hands, and commands shall be
executed: I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.

19

Twelfth Night
[III, 4]

Olivia

1577

God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so and kiss
thy hand so oft?

20

Twelfth Night
[IV, 1]

Feste

1971

By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men
that give fools money get themselves a good
report—after fourteen years' purchase.