#
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 |
All's Well That Ends Well
[I, 1] |
(stage directions) |
1 |
Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS of Rousillon, HELENA,]
and LAFEU, all in black]
|
2 |
All's Well That Ends Well
[I, 2] |
First Lord |
258 |
It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord,
Young Bertram.
|
3 |
All's Well That Ends Well
[I, 3] |
Helena |
475 |
Pardon, madam;
The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother:
I am from humble, he from honour'd name;
No note upon my parents, his all noble:
My master, my dear lord he is; and I
His servant live, and will his vassal die:
He must not be my brother.
|
4 |
All's Well That Ends Well
[II, 3] |
Lafeu |
1096 |
Are you companion to the Count Rousillon?
|
5 |
All's Well That Ends Well
[III, 2] |
Helena |
1509 |
'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.'
Nothing in France, until he has no wife!
Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France;
Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! is't I
That chase thee from thy country and expose
Those tender limbs of thine to the event
Of the none-sparing war? and is it I
That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers,
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
Fly with false aim; move the still-peering air,
That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord.
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there;
Whoever charges on his forward breast,
I am the caitiff that do hold him to't;
And, though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so effected: better 'twere
I met the ravin lion when he roar'd
With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere
That all the miseries which nature owes
Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon,
Whence honour but of danger wins a scar,
As oft it loses all: I will be gone;
My being here it is that holds thee hence:
Shall I stay here to do't? no, no, although
The air of paradise did fan the house
And angels officed all: I will be gone,
That pitiful rumour may report my flight,
To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day!
For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away.
|
6 |
All's Well That Ends Well
[III, 5] |
Diana |
1661 |
The Count Rousillon: know you such a one?
|
7 |
All's Well That Ends Well
[IV, 1] |
Second Lord |
1994 |
Go, tell the Count Rousillon, and my brother,
We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled
Till we do hear from them.
|
8 |
All's Well That Ends Well
[IV, 3] |
Second Lord |
2130 |
What will Count Rousillon do then? will he travel
higher, or return again into France?
|
9 |
All's Well That Ends Well
[IV, 3] |
Parolles |
2295 |
That is not the duke's letter, sir; that is an
advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one
Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one Count
Rousillon, a foolish idle boy, but for all that very
ruttish: I pray you, sir, put it up again.
|
10 |
All's Well That Ends Well
[IV, 3] |
Parolles |
2375 |
Ay, and the captain of his horse, Count Rousillon.
|
11 |
All's Well That Ends Well
[IV, 3] |
First Lord |
2397 |
Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet
you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon?
an I were not a very coward, I'ld compel it of you:
but fare you well.
|
12 |
All's Well That Ends Well
[V, 1] |
Gentleman |
2598 |
Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon;
Whither I am going.
|
13 |
All's Well That Ends Well
[V, 3] |
King of France |
2835 |
[Reads] Upon his many protestations to marry me
when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won
me. Now is the Count Rousillon a widower: his vows
are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He
stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow
him to his country for justice: grant it me, O
king! in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer
flourishes, and a poor maid is undone.
DIANA CAPILET.
|