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Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.

— Much Ado about Nothing, Act III Scene 1

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KEYWORD: has

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# Result number	Work The work is either a play, poem, or sonnet. The sonnets are treated as single work with 154 parts.	Character Indicates who said the line. If it's a play or sonnet, the character name is "Poet."	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.	Text The line's full text, with keywords highlighted within it, unless highlighting has been disabled by the user.
1	Measure for Measure [I, 2]	Lucio	147	Nay, not as one would say, healthy; but so sound as things that are hollow: thy bones are hollow; impiety has made a feast of thee.
2	Measure for Measure [I, 2]	First Gentleman	151	How now! which of your hips has the most profound sciatica?
3	Measure for Measure [I, 2]	Mistress Overdone	178	Well; what has he done?
4	Measure for Measure [I, 4]	Lucio	427	Has censured him Already; and, as I hear, the provost hath A warrant for his execution.
5	Measure for Measure [II, 1]	Elbow	614	Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet! the time has yet to come that she was ever respected with man, woman, or child.
6	Measure for Measure [III, 1]	Claudio	1342	Yes. Has he affections in him, That thus can make him bite the law by the nose, When he would force it? Sure, it is no sin, Or of the deadly seven, it is the least.
7	Measure for Measure [III, 2]	Elbow	1545	He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand.
8	Measure for Measure [IV, 2]	Provost	1943	Call hither Barnardine and Claudio: [Exeunt POMPEY and ABHORSON] The one has my pity; not a jot the other, Being a murderer, though he were my brother. [Enter CLAUDIO] Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death: 'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine?

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