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Lest the bargain should catch cold and starve.

      — Cymbeline, Act I Scene 4

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KEYWORD: men

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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

Merry Wives of Windsor
[I, 1]

Robert Shallow

103

Knight, you have beaten my men, killed my deer, and
broke open my lodge.

2

Merry Wives of Windsor
[I, 1]

Slender

249

I am not a-hungry, I thank you, forsooth. Go,
sirrah, for all you are my man, go wait upon my
cousin Shallow.
[Exit SIMPLE]
A justice of peace sometimes may be beholding to his
friend for a man. I keep but three men and a boy
yet, till my mother be dead: but what though? Yet I
live like a poor gentleman born.

3

Merry Wives of Windsor
[II, 1]

Mistress Page

568

What, have I scaped love-letters in the holiday-
time of my beauty, and am I now a subject for them?
Let me see.
[Reads]
'Ask me no reason why I love you; for though
Love use Reason for his physician, he admits him
not for his counsellor. You are not young, no more
am I; go to then, there's sympathy: you are merry,
so am I; ha, ha! then there's more sympathy: you
love sack, and so do I; would you desire better
sympathy? Let it suffice thee, Mistress Page,—at
the least, if the love of soldier can suffice,—
that I love thee. I will not say, pity me; 'tis
not a soldier-like phrase: but I say, love me. By me,
Thine own true knight,
By day or night,
Or any kind of light,
With all his might
For thee to fight, JOHN FALSTAFF'
What a Herod of Jewry is this! O wicked
world! One that is well-nigh worn to pieces with
age to show himself a young gallant! What an
unweighed behavior hath this Flemish drunkard
picked—with the devil's name!—out of my
conversation, that he dares in this manner assay me?
Why, he hath not been thrice in my company! What
should I say to him? I was then frugal of my
mirth: Heaven forgive me! Why, I'll exhibit a bill
in the parliament for the putting down of men. How
shall I be revenged on him? for revenged I will be,
as sure as his guts are made of puddings.

4

Merry Wives of Windsor
[II, 1]

Mistress Ford

617

We burn daylight: here, read, read; perceive how I
might be knighted. I shall think the worse of fat
men, as long as I have an eye to make difference of
men's liking: and yet he would not swear; praised
women's modesty; and gave such orderly and
well-behaved reproof to all uncomeliness, that I
would have sworn his disposition would have gone to
the truth of his words; but they do no more adhere
and keep place together than the Hundredth Psalm to
the tune of 'Green Sleeves.' What tempest, I trow,
threw this whale, with so many tuns of oil in his
belly, ashore at Windsor? How shall I be revenged
on him? I think the best way were to entertain him
with hope, till the wicked fire of lust have melted
him in his own grease. Did you ever hear the like?

5

Merry Wives of Windsor
[II, 1]

Page

730

Hang 'em, slaves! I do not think the knight would
offer it: but these that accuse him in his intent
towards our wives are a yoke of his discarded men;
very rogues, now they be out of service.

6

Merry Wives of Windsor
[II, 1]

Ford

734

Were they his men?

7

Merry Wives of Windsor
[III, 3]

Mistress Page

1410

Give your men the charge; we must be brief.

8

Merry Wives of Windsor
[III, 3]

Mistress Page

1517

For shame! never stand 'you had rather' and 'you
had rather:' your husband's here at hand, bethink
you of some conveyance: in the house you cannot
hide him. O, how have you deceived me! Look, here
is a basket: if he be of any reasonable stature, he
may creep in here; and throw foul linen upon him, as
if it were going to bucking: or—it is whiting-time
—send him by your two men to Datchet-mead.

9

Merry Wives of Windsor
[III, 3]

Mistress Page

1533

Help to cover your master, boy. Call your men,
Mistress Ford. You dissembling knight!

10

Merry Wives of Windsor
[III, 5]

Hostess Quickly

1782

Alas the day! good heart, that was not her fault:
she does so take on with her men; they mistook their erection.

11

Merry Wives of Windsor
[IV, 2]

Mistress Ford

2052

We'll try that; for I'll appoint my men to carry the
basket again, to meet him at the door with it, as
they did last time.

12

Merry Wives of Windsor
[IV, 2]

Mistress Ford

2057

I'll first direct my men what they shall do with the
basket. Go up; I'll bring linen for him straight.

13

Merry Wives of Windsor
[IV, 2]

Ford

2126

A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean! Have I not
forbid her my house? She comes of errands, does
she? We are simple men; we do not know what's
brought to pass under the profession of
fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells,
by the figure, and such daubery as this is, beyond
our element we know nothing. Come down, you witch,
you hag, you; come down, I say!

14

Merry Wives of Windsor
[IV, 5]

Host

2362

They are gone but to meet the duke, villain: do not
say they be fled; Germans are honest men.

15

Merry Wives of Windsor
[V, 5]

Falstaff

2560

The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; the minute
draws on. Now, the hot-blooded gods assist me!
Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy Europa; love
set on thy horns. O powerful love! that, in some
respects, makes a beast a man, in some other, a man
a beast. You were also, Jupiter, a swan for the love
of Leda. O omnipotent Love! how near the god drew
to the complexion of a goose! A fault done first in
the form of a beast. O Jove, a beastly fault! And
then another fault in the semblance of a fowl; think
on 't, Jove; a foul fault! When gods have hot
backs, what shall poor men do? For me, I am here a
Windsor stag; and the fattest, I think, i' the
forest. Send me a cool rut-time, Jove, or who can
blame me to piss my tallow? Who comes here? my
doe?

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