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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 |
Macbeth
[I, 3] |
Banquo |
232 |
That trusted home
Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,
Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange:
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
Win us with honest trifles, to betray's
In deepest consequence.
Cousins, a word, I pray you.
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2 |
Macbeth
[III, 1] |
Macbeth |
1044 |
I wish your horses swift and sure of foot;
And so I do commend you to their backs. Farewell.
[Exit BANQUO]
Let every man be master of his time
Till seven at night: to make society
The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself
Till supper-time alone: while then, God be with you!
[Exeunt all but MACBETH, and an attendant]
Sirrah, a word with you: attend those men
Our pleasure?
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3 |
Macbeth
[IV, 1] |
Macbeth |
1633 |
Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks;
Thou hast harp'd my fear aright: but one
word more,—
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4 |
Macbeth
[IV, 1] |
Lennox |
1720 |
'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word
Macduff is fled to England.
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5 |
Macbeth
[V, 5] |
Macbeth |
2374 |
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
[Enter a Messenger]
Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
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6 |
Macbeth
[V, 8] |
Macbeth |
2495 |
Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,
For it hath cow'd my better part of man!
And be these juggling fiends no more believed,
That palter with us in a double sense;
That keep the word of promise to our ear,
And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee.
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