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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 |
Coriolanus
[I, 1] |
Second Citizen |
25 |
Consider you what services he has done for his country?
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2 |
Coriolanus
[I, 1] |
First Citizen |
29 |
I say unto you, what he hath done famously, he did
it to that end: though soft-conscienced men can be
content to say it was for his country he did it to
please his mother and to be partly proud; which he
is, even till the altitude of his virtue.
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3 |
Coriolanus
[I, 1] |
Second Citizen |
34 |
What he cannot help in his nature, you account a
vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous.
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4 |
Coriolanus
[I, 1] |
Menenius Agrippa |
99 |
Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile,
Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus—
For, look you, I may make the belly smile
As well as speak—it tauntingly replied
To the discontented members, the mutinous parts
That envied his receipt; even so most fitly
As you malign our senators for that
They are not such as you.
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5 |
Coriolanus
[I, 1] |
Menenius Agrippa |
124 |
Note me this, good friend;
Your most grave belly was deliberate,
Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd:
'True is it, my incorporate friends,' quoth he,
'That I receive the general food at first,
Which you do live upon; and fit it is,
Because I am the store-house and the shop
Of the whole body: but, if you do remember,
I send it through the rivers of your blood,
Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the brain;
And, through the cranks and offices of man,
The strongest nerves and small inferior veins
From me receive that natural competency
Whereby they live: and though that all at once,
You, my good friends,'—this says the belly, mark me,—
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6 |
Coriolanus
[I, 1] |
Coriolanus |
168 |
He that will give good words to thee will flatter
Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs,
That like nor peace nor war? the one affrights you,
The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you,
Where he should find you lions, finds you hares;
Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no,
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,
Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is
To make him worthy whose offence subdues him
And curse that justice did it.
Who deserves greatness
Deserves your hate; and your affections are
A sick man's appetite, who desires most that
Which would increase his evil. He that depends
Upon your favours swims with fins of lead
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust Ye?
With every minute you do change a mind,
And call him noble that was now your hate,
Him vile that was your garland. What's the matter,
That in these several places of the city
You cry against the noble senate, who,
Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else
Would feed on one another? What's their seeking?
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7 |
Coriolanus
[I, 1] |
Coriolanus |
241 |
They have a leader,
Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to 't.
I sin in envying his nobility,
And were I any thing but what I am,
I would wish me only he.
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8 |
Coriolanus
[I, 1] |
Junius Brutus |
278 |
Mark'd you his lip and eyes?
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9 |
Coriolanus
[I, 1] |
Sicinius Velutus |
279 |
Nay. but his taunts.
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10 |
Coriolanus
[I, 1] |
Sicinius Velutus |
284 |
Such a nature,
Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow
Which he treads on at noon: but I do wonder
His insolence can brook to be commanded
Under Cominius.
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11 |
Coriolanus
[I, 1] |
Sicinius Velutus |
297 |
Besides, if things go well,
Opinion that so sticks on CORIOLANUS shall
Of his demerits rob Cominius.
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12 |
Coriolanus
[I, 1] |
Junius Brutus |
300 |
Come:
Half all Cominius' honours are to CORIOLANUS.
Though CORIOLANUS earned them not, and all his faults
To CORIOLANUS shall be honours, though indeed
In aught he merit not.
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13 |
Coriolanus
[I, 1] |
Sicinius Velutus |
305 |
Let's hence, and hear
How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion,
More than his singularity, he goes
Upon this present action.
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14 |
Coriolanus
[I, 3] |
Volumnia |
363 |
I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a
more comfortable sort: if my son were my husband, I
should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he
won honour than in the embracements of his bed where
he would show most love. When yet he was but
tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when
youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when
for a day of kings' entreaties a mother should not
sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering
how honour would become such a person. that it was
no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if
renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek
danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel
war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows
bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not
more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child
than now in first seeing he had proved himself a
man.
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15 |
Coriolanus
[I, 3] |
Volumnia |
382 |
Then his good report should have been my son; I
therein would have found issue. Hear me profess
sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love
alike and none less dear than thine and my good
CORIOLANUS, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their
country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.
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16 |
Coriolanus
[I, 3] |
Volumnia |
391 |
Indeed, you shall not.
Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum,
See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair,
As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him:
Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus:
'Come on, you cowards! you were got in fear,
Though you were born in Rome:' his bloody brow
With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes,
Like to a harvest-man that's task'd to mow
Or all or lose his hire.
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17 |
Coriolanus
[I, 3] |
Virgilia |
401 |
His bloody brow! O Jupiter, no blood!
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18 |
Coriolanus
[I, 3] |
Volumnia |
402 |
Away, you fool! it more becomes a man
Than gilt his trophy: the breasts of Hecuba,
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood
At Grecian sword, contemning. Tell Valeria,
We are fit to bid her welcome.
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19 |
Coriolanus
[I, 3] |
Volumnia |
410 |
He'll beat Aufidius 'head below his knee
And tread upon his neck.
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20 |
Coriolanus
[I, 3] |
Volumnia |
420 |
He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than
look upon his school-master.
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