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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 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 1] |
Dumain |
30 |
My loving lord, Dumain is mortified:
The grosser manner of these world's delights
He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves:
To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die;
With all these living in philosophy.
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2 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 1] |
Biron |
115 |
No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay with you:
And though I have for barbarism spoke more
Than for that angel knowledge you can say,
Yet confident I'll keep what I have swore
And bide the penance of each three years' day.
Give me the paper; let me read the same;
And to the strict'st decrees I'll write my name.
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3 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 1] |
Biron |
130 |
Sweet lord, and why?
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4 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 1] |
Ferdinand |
295 |
And Don Armado shall be your keeper.
My Lord Biron, see him deliver'd o'er:
And go we, lords, to put in practise that
Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.
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5 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 2] |
Moth |
314 |
No, no; O Lord, sir, no.
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6 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[I, 2] |
Jaquenetta |
434 |
Lord, how wise you are!
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7 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[II, 1] |
Princess of France |
497 |
Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise:
Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye,
Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues:
I am less proud to hear you tell my worth
Than you much willing to be counted wise
In spending your wit in the praise of mine.
But now to task the tasker: good Boyet,
You are not ignorant, all-telling fame
Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow,
Till painful study shall outwear three years,
No woman may approach his silent court:
Therefore to's seemeth it a needful course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure; and in that behalf,
Bold of your worthiness, we single you
As our best-moving fair solicitor.
Tell him, the daughter of the King of France,
On serious business, craving quick dispatch,
Importunes personal conference with his grace:
Haste, signify so much; while we attend,
Like humble-visaged suitors, his high will.
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8 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[II, 1] |
First Lord |
524 |
Lord Longaville is one.
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9 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[II, 1] |
Maria |
526 |
I know him, madam: at a marriage-feast,
Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized
In Normandy, saw I this Longaville:
A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd;
Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms:
Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.
The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss,
If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil,
Is a sharp wit matched with too blunt a will;
Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills
It should none spare that come within his power.
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10 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[II, 1] |
Princess of France |
538 |
Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so?
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11 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[II, 1] |
Princess of France |
568 |
Now, what admittance, lord?
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12 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[II, 1] |
Princess of France |
587 |
Our Lady help my lord! he'll be forsworn.
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13 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[II, 1] |
Princess of France |
591 |
Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise,
Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.
I hear your grace hath sworn out house-keeping:
Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord,
And sin to break it.
But pardon me. I am too sudden-bold:
To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.
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14 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[II, 1] |
Maria |
710 |
That last is Biron, the merry madcap lord:
Not a word with him but a jest.
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15 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[III, 1] |
Biron |
937 |
And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip;
A very beadle to a humorous sigh;
A critic, nay, a night-watch constable;
A domineering pedant o'er the boy;
Than whom no mortal so magnificent!
This whimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy;
This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces,
Sole imperator and great general
Of trotting 'paritors:—O my little heart:—
And I to be a corporal of his field,
And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!
What, I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife!
A woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a-repairing, ever out of frame,
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd that it may still go right!
Nay, to be perjured, which is worst of all;
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A wightly wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and by heaven, one that will do the deed
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard:
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue and groan:
Some men must love my lady and some Joan.
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16 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 1] |
Princess of France |
1011 |
Only for praise: and praise we may afford
To any lady that subdues a lord.
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17 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 1] |
Costard |
1078 |
I told you; my lord.
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18 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 1] |
Costard |
1080 |
From my lord to my lady.
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19 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 1] |
Princess of France |
1081 |
From which lord to which lady?
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20 |
Love's Labour's Lost
[IV, 1] |
Costard |
1082 |
From my lord Biron, a good master of mine,
To a lady of France that he call'd Rosaline.
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