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An you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you.

— Twelfth Night, Act II Scene 5

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1-7 of 7 total

KEYWORD: hang

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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	Twelfth Night [I, 3]	Sir Toby Belch	124	Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am: these clothes are good enough to drink in; and so be these boots too: an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps.
2	Twelfth Night [I, 5]	Maria	296	Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence.
3	Twelfth Night [I, 5]	Feste	299	Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colours.
4	Twelfth Night [II, 5]	Sir Toby Belch	1127	Marry, hang thee, brock!
5	Twelfth Night [III, 2]	Fabian	1420	She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver. You should then have accosted her; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should have banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and this was balked: the double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt either of valour or policy.
6	Twelfth Night [III, 4]	Sir Toby Belch	1660	Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man! 'tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan: hang him, foul collier!
7	Twelfth Night [III, 4]	Malvolio	1666	Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow things: I am not of your element: you shall know more hereafter.

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