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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 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 1] |
Orsino |
20 |
Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought she purged the air of pestilence!
That instant was I turn'd into a hart;
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E'er since pursue me.
[Enter VALENTINE]
How now! what news from her?
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2 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 1] |
Valentine |
28 |
So please my lord, I might not be admitted;
But from her handmaid do return this answer:
The element itself, till seven years' heat,
Shall not behold her face at ample view;
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk
And water once a day her chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this to season
A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh
And lasting in her sad remembrance.
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3 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 1] |
Orsino |
37 |
O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
That live in her; when liver, brain and heart,
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd
Her sweet perfections with one self king!
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers:
Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.
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4 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 2] |
Captain |
83 |
A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count
That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her
In the protection of his son, her brother,
Who shortly also died: for whose dear love,
They say, she hath abjured the company
And sight of men.
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5 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 3] |
Sir Toby Belch |
116 |
What a plague means my niece, to take the death of
her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life.
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6 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 3] |
Sir Toby Belch |
121 |
Why, let her except, before excepted.
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7 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 3] |
Maria |
128 |
That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard
my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish
knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer.
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8 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 3] |
Sir Toby Belch |
150 |
With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to
her as long as there is a passage in my throat and
drink in Illyria: he's a coward and a coystrill
that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn
o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench!
Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface.
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9 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 3] |
Sir Toby Belch |
167 |
You mistake, knight; 'accost' is front her, board
her, woo her, assail her.
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10 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 3] |
Sir Andrew Aguecheek |
169 |
By my troth, I would not undertake her in this
company. Is that the meaning of 'accost'?
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11 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 3] |
Sir Toby Belch |
208 |
Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I
hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs
and spin it off.
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12 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 3] |
Sir Andrew Aguecheek |
211 |
Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece
will not be seen; or if she be, it's four to one
she'll none of me: the count himself here hard by woos her.
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13 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 3] |
Sir Toby Belch |
214 |
She'll none o' the count: she'll not match above
her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I
have heard her swear't. Tut, there's life in't,
man.
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14 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 4] |
Orsino |
258 |
Stand you a while aloof, Cesario,
Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd
To thee the book even of my secret soul:
Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her;
Be not denied access, stand at her doors,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow
Till thou have audience.
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15 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 4] |
Viola |
265 |
Sure, my noble lord,
If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
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16 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 4] |
Viola |
270 |
Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then?
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17 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 4] |
Orsino |
271 |
O, then unfold the passion of my love,
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith:
It shall become thee well to act my woes;
She will attend it better in thy youth
Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect.
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18 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 5] |
Feste |
299 |
Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this
world needs to fear no colours.
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19 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 5] |
Feste |
334 |
Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel
will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is
the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend
himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if
he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing
that's mended is but patched: virtue that
transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that
amends is but patched with virtue. If that this
simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not,
what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but
calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take
away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away.
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20 |
Twelfth Night
[I, 5] |
Olivia |
462 |
Speak to me; I shall answer for her.
Your will?
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