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Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head...

      — As You Like It, Act II Scene 1

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1-5 of 5 total

KEYWORD: masked

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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

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

Moth

392

Most maculate thoughts, master, are masked under
such colours.

2

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

Boyet

2042

The trumpet sounds: be mask'd; the maskers come.
[The Ladies mask]
[Enter Blackamoors with music; MOTH; FERDINAND,]
BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, in Russian habits,
and masked]

3

Much Ado about Nothing
[II, 1]

Leonato

471

The revellers are entering, brother: make good room.
[All put on their masks]
[Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, BALTHASAR,]
DON JOHN, BORACHIO, MARGARET, URSULA and others, masked]

4

Much Ado about Nothing
[V, 4]

Claudio

2600

For this I owe you: here comes other reckonings.
[Re-enter ANTONIO, with the Ladies masked]
Which is the lady I must seize upon?

5

Sonnet 54

Shakespeare

743

O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly
When summer's breath their masked buds discloses:
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade,
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made:
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
When that shall fade, my verse distills your truth.

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