# 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

Cymbeline
[V, 5]

Pisanio

3650

How fares thy mistress?

2

Hamlet
[III, 2]

Claudius

1975

How fares our cousin Hamlet?

3

Hamlet
[III, 2]

Gertrude

2154

How fares my lord?

4

Henry IV, Part I
[V, 4]

Henry V

2993

Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like
Never to hold it up again! the spirits
Of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms:
It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee;
Who never promiseth but he means to pay.
[They fight: DOUGLAS flies]
Cheerly, my lord. how fares your grace?
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succor sent,
And so hath Clifton: I'll to Clifton straight.

5

Henry IV, Part II
[IV, 5]

Earl of Warwick

2940

What would your Majesty? How fares your Grace?

6

Henry VI, Part II
[III, 2]

Queen Margaret

1713

How fares my lord? Help, lords! the king is dead.

7

Henry VI, Part II
[III, 2]

Queen Margaret

1718

How fares my gracious lord?

8

Henry VI, Part II
[III, 3]

Henry VI

2114

How fares my lord? speak, Beaufort, to
thy sovereign.

9

Henry VI, Part III
[II, 1]

King Edward IV (Plantagenet)

627

I wonder how our princely father 'scaped,
Or whether he be 'scaped away or no
From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit:
Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news;
Had he been slain, we should have heard the news;
Or had he 'scaped, methinks we should have heard
The happy tidings of his good escape.
How fares my brother? why is he so sad?

10

Henry VI, Part III
[II, 5]

Henry VI

1103

This battle fares like to the morning's war,
When dying clouds contend with growing light,
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,
Can neither call it perfect day nor night.
Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea
Forced by the tide to combat with the wind;
Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea
Forced to retire by fury of the wind:
Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind;
Now one the better, then another best;
Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast,
Yet neither conqueror nor conquered:
So is the equal of this fell war.
Here on this molehill will I sit me down.
To whom God will, there be the victory!
For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too,
Have chid me from the battle; swearing both
They prosper best of all when I am thence.
Would I were dead! if God's good will were so;
For what is in this world but grief and woe?
O God! methinks it were a happy life,
To be no better than a homely swain;
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes how they run,
How many make the hour full complete;
How many hours bring about the day;
How many days will finish up the year;
How many years a mortal man may live.
When this is known, then to divide the times:
So many hours must I tend my flock;
So many hours must I take my rest;
So many hours must I contemplate;
So many hours must I sport myself;
So many days my ewes have been with young;
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean:
So many years ere I shall shear the fleece:
So minutes, hours, days, months, and years,
Pass'd over to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely!
Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade
To shepherds looking on their silly sheep,
Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy
To kings that fear their subjects' treachery?
O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth.
And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds,
His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle.
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade,
All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,
Is far beyond a prince's delicates,
His viands sparkling in a golden cup,
His body couched in a curious bed,
When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him.
[Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his father,]
dragging in the dead body]

11

Henry VI, Part III
[V, 5]

King Edward IV (Plantagenet)

2987

He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head.
Now march we hence: discharge the common sort
With pay and thanks, and let's away to London
And see our gentle queen how well she fares:
By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.

12

King John
[V, 3]

Hubert de Burgh

2468

Badly, I fear. How fares your majesty?

13

King John
[V, 7]

Prince Henry

2667

How fares your majesty?

14

King Lear
[III, 4]

Earl of Kent

1919

How fares your Grace?

15

King Lear
[IV, 7]

Cordelia

2960

How does my royal lord? How fares your Majesty?

16

Love's Labour's Lost
[V, 2]

Ferdinand

2667

How fares your majesty?

17

Rape of Lucrece

Shakespeare

745

Look, as the full-fed hound or gorged hawk,
Unapt for tender smell or speedy flight,
Make slow pursuit, or altogether balk
The prey wherein by nature they delight;
So surfeit-taking Tarquin fares this night:
His taste delicious, in digestion souring,
Devours his will, that lived by foul devouring.

18

Rape of Lucrece

Shakespeare

766

So fares it with this faultful lord of Rome,
Who this accomplishment so hotly chased;
For now against himself he sounds this doom,
That through the length of times he stands disgraced:
Besides, his soul's fair temple is defaced;
To whose weak ruins muster troops of cares,
To ask the spotted princess how she fares.

19

Rape of Lucrece

Shakespeare

1641

Which when her sad-beholding husband saw,
Amazedly in her sad face he stares:
Her eyes, though sod in tears, look'd red and raw,
Her lively colour kill'd with deadly cares.
He hath no power to ask her how she fares:
Both stood, like old acquaintance in a trance,
Met far from home, wondering each other's chance.

20

Richard II
[II, 1]

Queen

755

How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster?