# 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

Coriolanus
[I, 4]

Coriolanus

523

All the contagion of the south light on you,
You shames of Rome! you herd of—Boils and plagues
Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd
Further than seen and one infect another
Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese,
That bear the shapes of men, how have you run
From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell!
All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale
With flight and agued fear! Mend and charge home,
Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe
And make my wars on you: look to't: come on;
If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives,
As they us to our trenches followed.
[Another alarum. The Volsces fly, and CORIOLANUS]
follows them to the gates]
So, now the gates are ope: now prove good seconds:
'Tis for the followers fortune widens them,
Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.

2

Coriolanus
[I, 8]

Tullus Aufidius

751

Wert thou the Hector
That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny,
Thou shouldst not scape me here.
[They fight, and certain Volsces come to the aid of]
AUFIDIUS. CORIOLANUS fights till they be driven in
breathless]
Officious, and not valiant, you have shamed me
In your condemned seconds.

3

Cymbeline
[V, 2]

Guiderius

3010

[with Arviragus] Stand, stand, and fight!
[Re-enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, and seconds the]
Britons: they rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then
re-enter LUCIUS, and IACHIMO, with IMOGEN]

4

Cymbeline
[V, 3]

Posthumus Leonatus

3122

A Roman,
Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds
Had answer'd him.

5

King Lear
[IV, 6]

Lear

2801

No seconds? All myself?
Why, this would make a man a man of salt,
To use his eyes for garden waterpots,
Ay, and laying autumn's dust.

6

Sonnet 125

Shakespeare

1738

Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy,
With my extern the outward honouring,
Or laid great bases for eternity,
Which prove more short than waste or ruining?
Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour
Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent,
For compound sweet forgoing simple savour,
Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent?
No, let me be obsequious in thy heart,
And take thou my oblation, poor but free,
Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art,
But mutual render, only me for thee.
Hence, thou suborn'd informer! a true soul
When most impeach'd stands least in thy control.