# 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

Cymbeline
[I, 1]

Second Gentleman

62

I honour him
Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me,
Is she sole child to the king?

2

Cymbeline
[I, 1]

First Gentleman

65

His only child.
He had two sons: if this be worth your hearing,
Mark it: the eldest of them at three years old,
I' the swathing-clothes the other, from their nursery
Were stol'n, and to this hour no guess in knowledge
Which way they went.

3

Cymbeline
[I, 1]

Queen

84

No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter,
After the slander of most stepmothers,
Evil-eyed unto you: you're my prisoner, but
Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys
That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,
So soon as I can win the offended king,
I will be known your advocate: marry, yet
The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good
You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience
Your wisdom may inform you.

4

Cymbeline
[I, 1]

Posthumus Leonatus

94

Please your highness,
I will from hence to-day.

5

Cymbeline
[I, 1]

Posthumus Leonatus

140

How, how! another?
You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
And sear up my embracements from a next
With bonds of death!
[Putting on the ring]
Remain, remain thou here
While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest,
As I my poor self did exchange for you,
To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles
I still win of you: for my sake wear this;
It is a manacle of love; I'll place it
Upon this fairest prisoner.

6

Cymbeline
[I, 1]

Imogen

169

I beseech you, sir,
Harm not yourself with your vexation
I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare
Subdues all pangs, all fears.

7

Cymbeline
[I, 1]

Imogen

183

Sir,
It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus:
You bred him as my playfellow, and he is
A man worth any woman, overbuys me
Almost the sum he pays.

8

Cymbeline
[I, 1]

Queen

197

Beseech your patience. Peace,
Dear lady daughter, peace! Sweet sovereign,
Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort
Out of your best advice.

9

Cymbeline
[I, 1]

Queen

205

Fie! you must give way.
[Enter PISANIO]
Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news?

10

Cymbeline
[I, 1]

Pisanio

208

My lord your son drew on my master.

11

Cymbeline
[I, 1]

Imogen

216

Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part.
To draw upon an exile! O brave sir!
I would they were in Afric both together;
Myself by with a needle, that I might prick
The goer-back. Why came you from your master?

12

Cymbeline
[I, 1]

Queen

225

This hath been
Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour
He will remain so.

13

Cymbeline
[I, 1]

Pisanio

228

I humbly thank your highness.

14

Cymbeline
[I, 2]

Second Lord

246

[Aside] No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.

15

Cymbeline
[I, 2]

First Lord

247

Stand you! You have land enough of your own: but
he added to your having; gave you some ground.

16

Cymbeline
[I, 2]

First Lord

266

I'll attend your lordship.

17

Cymbeline
[I, 3]

Lady

315

The queen, madam,
Desires your highness' company.

18

Cymbeline
[I, 4]

Philario

344

His father and I were soldiers together; to whom I
have been often bound for no less than my life.
Here comes the Briton: let him be so entertained
amongst you as suits, with gentlemen of your
knowing, to a stranger of his quality.
[Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS]
I beseech you all, be better known to this
gentleman; whom I commend to you as a noble friend
of mine: how worthy he is I will leave to appear
hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing.

19

Cymbeline
[I, 4]

Posthumus Leonatus

362

By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller;
rather shunned to go even with what I heard than in
my every action to be guided by others' experiences:
but upon my mended judgment—if I offend not to say
it is mended—my quarrel was not altogether slight.

20

Cymbeline
[I, 4]

Iachimo

397

Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she's
outprized by a trifle.