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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 |
115 |
No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay with you:
And though I have for barbarism spoke more
Than for that angel knowledge you can say,
Yet confident I'll keep what I have swore
And bide the penance of each three years' day.
Give me the paper; let me read the same;
And to the strict'st decrees I'll write my name.
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2 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 1] |
Biron |
300 |
I'll lay my head to any good man's hat,
These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn.
Sirrah, come on.
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3 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 2] |
Moth |
353 |
Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? Now here
is three studied, ere ye'll thrice wink: and how
easy it is to put 'years' to the word 'three,' and
study three years in two words, the dancing horse
will tell you.
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4 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[II, 1] |
Princess of France |
587 |
Our Lady help my lord! he'll be forsworn.
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5 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[II, 1] |
Princess of France |
601 |
You will the sooner, that I were away;
For you'll prove perjured if you make me stay.
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6 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[II, 1] |
Ferdinand |
647 |
I do protest I never heard of it;
And if you prove it, I'll repay it back
Or yield up Aquitaine.
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7 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[II, 1] |
Boyet |
734 |
Why, all his behaviors did make their retire
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire:
His heart, like an agate, with your print impress'd,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride express'd:
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be;
All senses to that sense did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair:
Methought all his senses were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy;
Who, tendering their own worth from where they were glass'd,
Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd:
His face's own margent did quote such amazes
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.
I'll give you Aquitaine and all that is his,
An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.
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8 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[III, 1] |
Costard |
897 |
My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my incony Jew!
[Exit MOTH]
Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration!
O, that's the Latin word for three farthings: three
farthings—remuneration.—'What's the price of this
inkle?'—'One penny.'—'No, I'll give you a
remuneration:' why, it carries it. Remuneration!
why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will
never buy and sell out of this word.
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9 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 1] |
Costard |
1119 |
Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout.
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10 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 2] |
Sir Nathaniel |
1251 |
[Reads]
If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?
Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd!
Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove:
Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like
osiers bow'd.
Study his bias leaves and makes his book thine eyes,
Where all those pleasures live that art would
comprehend:
If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice;
Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend,
All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder;
Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire:
Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder,
Which not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire.
Celestial as thou art, O, pardon, love, this wrong,
That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue.
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11 |
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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12 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 3] |
Dumain |
1427 |
Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ.
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13 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 3] |
Biron |
1428 |
Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit.
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14 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 3] |
Biron |
1481 |
Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.
[Advancing]
Ah, good my liege, I pray thee, pardon me!
Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove
These worms for loving, that art most in love?
Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears
There is no certain princess that appears;
You'll not be perjured, 'tis a hateful thing;
Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting!
But are you not ashamed? nay, are you not,
All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot?
You found his mote; the king your mote did see;
But I a beam do find in each of three.
O, what a scene of foolery have I seen,
Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow and of teen!
O me, with what strict patience have I sat,
To see a king transformed to a gnat!
To see great Hercules whipping a gig,
And profound Solomon to tune a jig,
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
And critic Timon laugh at idle toys!
Where lies thy grief, O, tell me, good Dumain?
And gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?
And where my liege's? all about the breast:
A caudle, ho!
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15 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 3] |
Ferdinand |
1616 |
'Twere good, yours did; for, sir, to tell you plain,
I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day.
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16 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 3] |
Biron |
1618 |
I'll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday here.
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17 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 1] |
Dull |
1876 |
I'll make one in a dance, or so; or I will play
On the tabour to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay.
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18 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Rosaline |
1893 |
You'll ne'er be friends with him; a' kill'd your sister.
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19 |
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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20 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2] |
Rosaline |
1941 |
They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.
That same Biron I'll torture ere I go:
O that I knew he were but in by the week!
How I would make him fawn and beg and seek
And wait the season and observe the times
And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes
And shape his service wholly to my hests
And make him proud to make me proud that jests!
So perttaunt-like would I o'ersway his state
That he should be my fool and I his fate.
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