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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 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
First Gentleman |
20 |
He that hath miss'd the princess is a thing
Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her—
I mean, that married her, alack, good man!
And therefore banish'd—is a creature such
As, to seek through the regions of the earth
For one his like, there would be something failing
In him that should compare. I do not think
So fair an outward and such stuff within
Endows a man but he.
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2 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
Queen |
84 |
No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter,
After the slander of most stepmothers,
Evil-eyed unto you: you're my prisoner, but
Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys
That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,
So soon as I can win the offended king,
I will be known your advocate: marry, yet
The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good
You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience
Your wisdom may inform you.
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3 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
Posthumus Leonatus |
161 |
The gods protect you!
And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone.
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4 |
Cymbeline
[I, 2] |
First Lord |
256 |
Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain
go not together: she's a good sign, but I have seen
small reflection of her wit.
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5 |
Cymbeline
[I, 3] |
Imogen |
292 |
I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but
To look upon him, till the diminution
Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle,
Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from
The smallness of a gnat to air, and then
Have turn'd mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio,
When shall we hear from him?
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6 |
Cymbeline
[I, 4] |
Iachimo |
387 |
As fair and as good—a kind of hand-in-hand
comparison—had been something too fair and too good
for any lady in Britain. If she went before others
I have seen, as that diamond of yours outlustres
many I have beheld. I could not but believe she
excelled many: but I have not seen the most
precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.
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7 |
Cymbeline
[I, 5] |
Queen |
550 |
Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou think in time
She will not quench and let instructions enter
Where folly now possesses? Do thou work:
When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son,
I'll tell thee on the instant thou art then
As great as is thy master, greater, for
His fortunes all lie speechless and his name
Is at last gasp: return he cannot, nor
Continue where he is: to shift his being
Is to exchange one misery with another,
And every day that comes comes to decay
A day's work in him. What shalt thou expect,
To be depender on a thing that leans,
Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends,
So much as but to prop him?
[The QUEEN drops the box: PISANIO takes it up]
Thou takest up
Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour:
It is a thing I made, which hath the king
Five times redeem'd from death: I do not know
What is more cordial. Nay, I prethee, take it;
It is an earnest of a further good
That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how
The case stands with her; do't as from thyself.
Think what a chance thou changest on, but think
Thou hast thy mistress still, to boot, my son,
Who shall take notice of thee: I'll move the king
To any shape of thy preferment such
As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly,
That set thee on to this desert, am bound
To load thy merit richly. Call my women:
Think on my words.
[Exit PISANIO]
A sly and constant knave,
Not to be shaked; the agent for his master
And the remembrancer of her to hold
The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that
Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her
Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after,
Except she bend her humour, shall be assured
To taste of too.
[Re-enter PISANIO and Ladies]
So, so: well done, well done:
The violets, cowslips, and the primroses,
Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio;
Think on my words.
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8 |
Cymbeline
[I, 5] |
Pisanio |
597 |
And shall do:
But when to my good lord I prove untrue,
I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you.
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9 |
Cymbeline
[I, 6] |
Imogen |
618 |
Thanks, good sir:
You're kindly welcome.
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10 |
Cymbeline
[II, 3] |
Cloten |
1013 |
I am glad I was up so late; for that's the reason I
was up so early: he cannot choose but take this
service I have done fatherly.
[Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN]
Good morrow to your majesty and to my gracious mother.
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11 |
Cymbeline
[II, 3] |
Cymbeline |
1039 |
A worthy fellow,
Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;
But that's no fault of his: we must receive him
According to the honour of his sender;
And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us,
We must extend our notice. Our dear son,
When you have given good morning to your mistress,
Attend the queen and us; we shall have need
To employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen.
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12 |
Cymbeline
[II, 3] |
Cloten |
1076 |
There is gold for you;
Sell me your good report.
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13 |
Cymbeline
[II, 3] |
Lady |
1078 |
How! my good name? or to report of you
What I shall think is good?—The princess!
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14 |
Cymbeline
[II, 3] |
Cloten |
1081 |
Good morrow, fairest: sister, your sweet hand.
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15 |
Cymbeline
[II, 3] |
Imogen |
1083 |
Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains
For purchasing but trouble; the thanks I give
Is telling you that I am poor of thanks
And scarce can spare them.
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16 |
Cymbeline
[II, 3] |
Imogen |
1161 |
Your mother too:
She's my good lady, and will conceive, I hope,
But the worst of me. So, I leave you, sir,
To the worst of discontent.
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17 |
Cymbeline
[II, 4] |
Posthumus Leonatus |
1214 |
Their tenor good, I trust.
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18 |
Cymbeline
[II, 4] |
Posthumus Leonatus |
1220 |
All is well yet.
Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not
Too dull for your good wearing?
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19 |
Cymbeline
[II, 4] |
Iachimo |
1234 |
Good sir, we must,
If you keep covenant. Had I not brought
The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant
We were to question further: but I now
Profess myself the winner of her honour,
Together with your ring; and not the wronger
Of her or you, having proceeded but
By both your wills.
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20 |
Cymbeline
[III, 1] |
Cymbeline |
1468 |
Say, then, to Caesar,
Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which
Ordain'd our laws, whose use the sword of Caesar
Hath too much mangled; whose repair and franchise
Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,
Though Rome be therefore angry: Mulmutius made our laws,
Who was the first of Britain which did put
His brows within a golden crown and call'd
Himself a king.
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