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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 |
58 |
Why, that to know, which else we should not know.
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2 |
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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3 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 1] |
Biron |
106 |
Well, say I am; why should proud summer boast
Before the birds have any cause to sing?
Why should I joy in any abortive birth?
At Christmas I no more desire a rose
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth;
But like of each thing that in season grows.
So you, to study now it is too late,
Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate.
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4 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 1] |
Biron |
130 |
Sweet lord, and why?
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5 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 1] |
Ferdinand |
145 |
What say you, lords? Why, this was quite forgot.
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6 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 2] |
Don Adriano de Armado |
313 |
Why, sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp.
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7 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 2] |
Don Adriano de Armado |
318 |
Why tough senior? why tough senior?
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8 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 2] |
Moth |
319 |
Why tender juvenal? why tender juvenal?
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9 |
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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10 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[II, 1] |
Princess of France |
589 |
Why, will shall break it; will and nothing else.
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11 |
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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12 |
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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13 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[III, 1] |
Biron |
912 |
Why, then, three-farthing worth of silk.
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14 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[III, 1] |
Biron |
922 |
Why, villain, thou must know first.
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15 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 1] |
Boyet |
1034 |
'By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible;
true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that
thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful
than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have
commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The
magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set
eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar
Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say,
Veni, vidi, vici; which to annothanize in the
vulgar,—O base and obscure vulgar!—videlicet, He
came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw two;
overcame, three. Who came? the king: why did he
come? to see: why did he see? to overcome: to
whom came he? to the beggar: what saw he? the
beggar: who overcame he? the beggar. The
conclusion is victory: on whose side? the king's.
The captive is enriched: on whose side? the
beggar's. The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whose
side? the king's: no, on both in one, or one in
both. I am the king; for so stands the comparison:
thou the beggar; for so witnesseth thy lowliness.
Shall I command thy love? I may: shall I enforce
thy love? I could: shall I entreat thy love? I
will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? robes;
for tittles? titles; for thyself? me. Thus,
expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot,
my eyes on thy picture. and my heart on thy every
part. Thine, in the dearest design of industry,
DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.'
Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar
'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey.
Submissive fall his princely feet before,
And he from forage will incline to play:
But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then?
Food for his rage, repasture for his den.
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16 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 1] |
Rosaline |
1091 |
Why, she that bears the bow.
Finely put off!
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17 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 2] |
Holofernes |
1268 |
You find not the apostraphas, and so miss the
accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are
only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy,
facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret.
Ovidius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso,
but for smelling out the odouriferous flowers of
fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari is nothing:
so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper,
the tired horse his rider. But, damosella virgin,
was this directed to you?
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18 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 3] |
Biron |
1369 |
Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers.
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19 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 3] |
Biron |
1425 |
A fever in your blood! why, then incision
Would let her out in saucers: sweet misprision!
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20 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 3] |
Ferdinand |
1539 |
How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it?
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