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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 |
Macbeth
[II, 1] |
Banquo |
571 |
And she goes down at twelve.
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2 |
Macbeth
[II, 1] |
Macbeth |
609 |
Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,
She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.
[Exit Servant]
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;
And such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Which was not so before. There's no such thing:
It is the bloody business which informs
Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one halfworld
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder,
Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,
Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace.
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives:
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.
[A bell rings]
I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell.
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3 |
Macbeth
[IV, 3] |
Macduff |
1960 |
Fit to govern!
No, not to live. O nation miserable,
With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd,
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,
Since that the truest issue of thy throne
By his own interdiction stands accursed,
And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father
Was a most sainted king: the queen that bore thee,
Oftener upon her knees than on her feet,
Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!
These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself
Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast,
Thy hope ends here!
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4 |
Macbeth
[V, 1] |
Doctor |
2128 |
I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive
no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?
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5 |
Macbeth
[V, 1] |
Gentlewoman |
2142 |
Neither to you nor any one; having no witness to
confirm my speech.
[Enter LADY MACBETH, with a taper]
Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise;
and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.
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6 |
Macbeth
[V, 1] |
Doctor |
2147 |
How came she by that light?
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7 |
Macbeth
[V, 1] |
Gentlewoman |
2148 |
Why, it stood by her: she has light by her
continually; 'tis her command.
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8 |
Macbeth
[V, 1] |
Doctor |
2152 |
What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.
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9 |
Macbeth
[V, 1] |
Doctor |
2157 |
Hark! she speaks: I will set down what comes from
her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.
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10 |
Macbeth
[V, 1] |
Lady Macbeth |
2166 |
The thane of Fife had a wife: where is she now?—
What, will these hands ne'er be clean?—No more o'
that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with
this starting.
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11 |
Macbeth
[V, 1] |
Gentlewoman |
2171 |
She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of
that: heaven knows what she has known.
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12 |
Macbeth
[V, 1] |
Doctor |
2192 |
Will she go now to bed?
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13 |
Macbeth
[V, 1] |
Doctor |
2194 |
Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds
Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets:
More needs she the divine than the physician.
God, God forgive us all! Look after her;
Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
And still keep eyes upon her. So, good night:
My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight.
I think, but dare not speak.
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14 |
Macbeth
[V, 3] |
Doctor |
2291 |
Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with thick coming fancies,
That keep her from her rest.
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15 |
Macbeth
[V, 5] |
Macbeth |
2374 |
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
[Enter a Messenger]
Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
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