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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] |
Biron |
74 |
Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain,
Which with pain purchased doth inherit pain:
As, painfully to pore upon a book
To seek the light of truth; while truth the while
Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look:
Light seeking light doth light of light beguile:
So, ere you find where light in darkness lies,
Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.
Study me how to please the eye indeed
By fixing it upon a fairer eye,
Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed
And give him light that it was blinded by.
Study is like the heaven's glorious sun
That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks:
Small have continual plodders ever won
Save base authority from others' books
These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights
That give a name to every fixed star
Have no more profit of their shining nights
Than those that walk and wot not what they are.
Too much to know is to know nought but fame;
And every godfather can give a name.
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2 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 2] |
Moth |
420 |
And that's great marvel, loving a light wench.
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3 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[II, 1] |
Boyet |
691 |
A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light.
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4 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[II, 1] |
Longaville |
692 |
Perchance light in the light. I desire her name.
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5 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 3] |
Biron |
1319 |
The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing
myself: they have pitched a toil; I am toiling in
a pitch,—pitch that defiles: defile! a foul
word. Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so they say
the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool: well
proved, wit! By the Lord, this love is as mad as
Ajax: it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep:
well proved again o' my side! I will not love: if
I do, hang me; i' faith, I will not. O, but her
eye,—by this light, but for her eye, I would not
love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing
in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By
heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme
and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme,
and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my
sonnets already: the clown bore it, the fool sent
it, and the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter
fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care
a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one
with a paper: God give him grace to groan!
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6 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 3] |
Ferdinand |
1345 |
[Reads]
So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not
To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,
As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote
The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows:
Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright
Through the transparent bosom of the deep,
As doth thy face through tears of mine give light;
Thou shinest in every tear that I do weep:
No drop but as a coach doth carry thee;
So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.
Do but behold the tears that swell in me,
And they thy glory through my grief will show:
But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep
My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.
O queen of queens! how far dost thou excel,
No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.
How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the paper:
Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here?
[Steps aside]
What, Longaville! and reading! listen, ear.
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7 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 3] |
Ferdinand |
1573 |
What zeal, what fury hath inspired thee now?
My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon;
She an attending star, scarce seen a light.
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8 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 3] |
Biron |
1601 |
Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light.
O, if in black my lady's brows be deck'd,
It mourns that painting and usurping hair
Should ravish doters with a false aspect;
And therefore is she born to make black fair.
Her favour turns the fashion of the days,
For native blood is counted painting now;
And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise,
Paints itself black, to imitate her brow.
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9 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 3] |
Dumain |
1613 |
Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light.
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10 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 3] |
Biron |
1728 |
Allons! allons! Sow'd cockle reap'd no corn;
And justice always whirls in equal measure:
Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn;
If so, our copper buys no better treasure.
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11 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Katharine |
1894 |
He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy;
And so she died: had she been light, like you,
Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit,
She might ha' been a grandam ere she died:
And so may you; for a light heart lives long.
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12 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Rosaline |
1899 |
What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?
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13 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Katharine |
1900 |
A light condition in a beauty dark.
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14 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Rosaline |
1901 |
We need more light to find your meaning out.
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15 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Katharine |
1902 |
You'll mar the light by taking it in snuff;
Therefore I'll darkly end the argument.
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16 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Katharine |
1905 |
So do not you, for you are a light wench.
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17 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Rosaline |
1906 |
Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore light.
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18 |
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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19 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Boyet |
2571 |
A light for Monsieur Judas! it grows dark, he may stumble.
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