Speeches (Lines) for Princess of France
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# | Act, Scene, Line (Click to see in context) |
Speech text |
1 |
Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean,
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2 |
All pride is willing pride, and yours is so.
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3 |
Know you the man? |
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4 |
Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so? |
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5 |
Such short-lived wits do wither as they grow.
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6 |
God bless my ladies! are they all in love,
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7 |
Now, what admittance, lord? |
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8 |
'Fair' I give you back again; and 'welcome' I have
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9 |
I will be welcome, then: conduct me thither. |
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10 |
Our Lady help my lord! he'll be forsworn. |
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11 |
Why, will shall break it; will and nothing else. |
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12 |
Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise,
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13 |
You will the sooner, that I were away;
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14 |
You do the king my father too much wrong
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15 |
We arrest your word.
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16 |
Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace! |
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17 |
It was well done of you to take him at his word. |
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18 |
Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree:
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19 |
With what? |
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20 |
Your reason? |
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21 |
Come to our pavilion: Boyet is disposed. |
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22 |
Was that the king, that spurred his horse so hard
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23 |
Whoe'er a' was, a' show'd a mounting mind.
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24 |
I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
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25 |
What, what? first praise me and again say no?
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26 |
Nay, never paint me now:
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27 |
See see, my beauty will be saved by merit!
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28 |
Only for praise: and praise we may afford
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29 |
Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads. |
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30 |
The thickest and the tallest. |
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31 |
What's your will, sir? what's your will? |
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32 |
O, thy letter, thy letter! he's a good friend of mine:
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33 |
We will read it, I swear.
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34 |
What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter?
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35 |
Else your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile. |
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36 |
Thou fellow, a word:
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37 |
To whom shouldst thou give it? |
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38 |
From which lord to which lady? |
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39 |
Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away.
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40 |
Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,
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41 |
Nothing but this! yes, as much love in rhyme
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42 |
Well bandied both; a set of wit well play'd.
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43 |
Any thing like? |
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44 |
Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion. |
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45 |
But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain? |
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46 |
Did he not send you twain? |
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47 |
I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart
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48 |
We are wise girls to mock our lovers so. |
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49 |
None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd,
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50 |
Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face. |
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51 |
Thy news Boyet? |
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52 |
Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they
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53 |
But what, but what, come they to visit us? |
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54 |
And will they so? the gallants shall be task'd;
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55 |
The effect of my intent is to cross theirs:
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56 |
No, to the death, we will not move a foot;
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57 |
Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt
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58 |
Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three. |
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59 |
Seventh sweet, adieu:
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60 |
Let it not be sweet. |
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61 |
Gall! bitter. |
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62 |
Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits.
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63 |
O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!
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64 |
Biron did swear himself out of all suit. |
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65 |
Qualm, perhaps. |
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66 |
Go, sickness as thou art! |
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67 |
And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me. |
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68 |
Will they return? |
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69 |
How blow? how blow? speak to be understood. |
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70 |
Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do,
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71 |
Whip to our tents, as roes run o'er land.
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72 |
'Fair' in 'all hail' is foul, as I conceive. |
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73 |
Then wish me better; I will give you leave. |
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74 |
This field shall hold me; and so hold your vow:
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75 |
You nickname virtue; vice you should have spoke;
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76 |
Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear;
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77 |
Ay, in truth, my lord;
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78 |
Amazed, my lord? why looks your highness sad? |
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79 |
No, they are free that gave these tokens to us. |
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80 |
The fairest is confession.
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81 |
And were you well advised? |
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82 |
When you then were here,
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83 |
When she shall challenge this, you will reject her. |
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84 |
Peace, peace! forbear:
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85 |
I will: and therefore keep it. Rosaline,
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86 |
God give thee joy of him! the noble lord
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87 |
Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear;
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88 |
Nay, my good lord, let me o'errule you now:
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89 |
Doth this man serve God? |
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90 |
He speaks not like a man of God's making. |
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91 |
Great thanks, great Pompey. |
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92 |
The conqueror is dismay'd. Proceed, good Alexander. |
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93 |
Alas, poor Maccabaeus, how hath he been baited! |
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94 |
Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted. |
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95 |
Welcome, Mercade;
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96 |
Dead, for my life! |
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97 |
Boyet, prepare; I will away tonight. |
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98 |
Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords,
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99 |
We have received your letters full of love;
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100 |
A time, methinks, too short
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101 |
[To FERDINAND] Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave. |
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102 |
Was not that Hector? |
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