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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 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 1] |
Ferdinand |
231 |
[Reads] 'So it is, besieged with sable-coloured
melancholy, I did commend the black-oppressing humour
to the most wholesome physic of thy health-giving
air; and, as I am a gentleman, betook myself to
walk. The time when. About the sixth hour; when
beasts most graze, birds best peck, and men sit down
to that nourishment which is called supper: so much
for the time when. Now for the ground which; which,
I mean, I walked upon: it is y-cleped thy park. Then
for the place where; where, I mean, I did encounter
that obscene and preposterous event, that draweth
from my snow-white pen the ebon-coloured ink, which
here thou viewest, beholdest, surveyest, or seest;
but to the place where; it standeth north-north-east
and by east from the west corner of thy curious-
knotted garden: there did I see that low-spirited
swain, that base minnow of thy mirth,'—
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2 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 1] |
Biron |
275 |
This is not so well as I looked for, but the best
that ever I heard.
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3 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 1] |
Ferdinand |
277 |
Ay, the best for the worst. But, sirrah, what say
you to this?
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4 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 2] |
Moth |
386 |
As I have read, sir; and the best of them too.
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5 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[III, 1] |
Don Adriano de Armado |
888 |
I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and,
in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this:
bear this significant
[Giving a letter]
to the country maid Jaquenetta:
there is remuneration; for the best ward of mine
honour is rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow.
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6 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Boyet |
2060 |
They will not answer to that epithet;
You were best call it 'daughter-beamed eyes.'
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7 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Ferdinand |
2126 |
I am best pleased with that.
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8 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Biron |
2294 |
This jest is dry to me. Fair gentle sweet,
Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we greet,
With eyes best seeing, heaven's fiery eye,
By light we lose light: your capacity
Is of that nature that to your huge store
Wise things seem foolish and rich things but poor.
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9 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Princess of France |
2447 |
Nay, my good lord, let me o'errule you now:
That sport best pleases that doth least know how:
Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Dies in the zeal of that which it presents:
Their form confounded makes most form in mirth,
When great things labouring perish in their birth.
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10 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Biron |
2499 |
My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.
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11 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Boyet |
2582 |
No; he is best endued in the small.
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12 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Biron |
2693 |
Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief;
And by these badges understand the king.
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
Play'd foul play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents:
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,—
As love is full of unbefitting strains,
All wanton as a child, skipping and vain,
Form'd by the eye and therefore, like the eye,
Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which parti-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecomed our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true
To those that make us both,—fair ladies, you:
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself and turns to grace.
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