# 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, 2]

Captain

111

Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be:
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.

2

Twelfth Night
[I, 3]

Sir Toby Belch

121

Why, let her except, before excepted.

3

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.

4

Twelfth Night
[I, 3]

Sir Toby Belch

172

An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst
never draw sword again.

5

Twelfth Night
[I, 3]

Maria

179

Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray you, bring
your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink.

6

Twelfth Night
[I, 3]

Maria

187

Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry,
now I let go your hand, I am barren.

7

Twelfth Night
[I, 3]

Sir Toby Belch

243

No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the
caper; ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent!

8

Twelfth Night
[I, 5]

Feste

299

Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this
world needs to fear no colours.

9

Twelfth Night
[I, 5]

Feste

307

Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those
that are fools, let them use their talents.

10

Twelfth Night
[I, 5]

Feste

311

Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and,
for turning away, let summer bear it out.

11

Twelfth Night
[I, 5]

Feste

334

Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel
will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is
the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend
himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if
he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing
that's mended is but patched: virtue that
transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that
amends is but patched with virtue. If that this
simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not,
what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but
calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take
away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away.

12

Twelfth Night
[I, 5]

Sir Toby Belch

418

Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give
me faith, say I. Well, it's all one.

13

Twelfth Night
[I, 5]

Olivia

425

Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my
coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's
drowned: go, look after him.

14

Twelfth Night
[I, 5]

Olivia

454

Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman.

15

Twelfth Night
[I, 5]

Viola

464

Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty,—I
pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house,
for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away
my speech, for besides that it is excellently well
penned, I have taken great pains to con it. Good
beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very
comptible, even to the least sinister usage.

16

Twelfth Night
[I, 5]

Viola

518

Good madam, let me see your face.

17

Twelfth Night
[I, 5]

Olivia

572

Get you to your lord;
I cannot love him: let him send no more;
Unless, perchance, you come to me again,
To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well:
I thank you for your pains: spend this for me.

18

Twelfth Night
[I, 5]

Viola

577

I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse:
My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
Love make his heart of flint that you shall love;
And let your fervor, like my master's, be
Placed in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty.

19

Twelfth Night
[I, 5]

Olivia

583

'What is your parentage?'
'Above my fortunes, yet my state is well:
I am a gentleman.' I'll be sworn thou art;
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and spirit,
Do give thee five-fold blazon: not too fast:
soft, soft!
Unless the master were the man. How now!
Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
Methinks I feel this youth's perfections
With an invisible and subtle stealth
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
What ho, Malvolio!

20

Twelfth Night
[II, 1]

Antonio

642

If you will not murder me for my love, let me be
your servant.