#
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
[II, 2] |
Falstaff |
809 |
Reason, you rogue, reason: thinkest thou I'll
endanger my soul gratis? At a word, hang no more
about me, I am no gibbet for you. Go. A short knife
and a throng! To your manor of Pickt-hatch! Go.
You'll not bear a letter for me, you rogue! you
stand upon your honour! Why, thou unconfinable
baseness, it is as much as I can do to keep the
terms of my honour precise: I, I, I myself
sometimes, leaving the fear of God on the left hand
and hiding mine honour in my necessity, am fain to
shuffle, to hedge and to lurch; and yet you, rogue,
will ensconce your rags, your cat-a-mountain
looks, your red-lattice phrases, and your
bold-beating oaths, under the shelter of your
honour! You will not do it, you!
|
2 |
Merry Wives of Windsor
[II, 2] |
Ford |
1029 |
O, understand my drift. She dwells so securely on
the excellency of her honour, that the folly of my
soul dares not present itself: she is too bright to
be looked against. Now, could I could come to her
with any detection in my hand, my desires had
instance and argument to commend themselves: I
could drive her then from the ward of her purity,
her reputation, her marriage-vow, and a thousand
other her defences, which now are too too strongly
embattled against me. What say you to't, Sir John?
|
3 |
Merry Wives of Windsor
[II, 3] |
Doctor Caius |
1106 |
By gar, he has save his soul, dat he is no come; he
has pray his Pible well, dat he is no come: by gar,
Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be come.
|
4 |
Merry Wives of Windsor
[III, 1] |
Sir Hugh Evans |
1201 |
'Pless my soul, how full of chollors I am, and
trempling of mind! I shall be glad if he have
deceived me. How melancholies I am! I will knog
his urinals about his knave's costard when I have
good opportunities for the ork. 'Pless my soul!
[Sings]
To shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sings madrigals;
There will we make our peds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies.
To shallow—
Mercy on me! I have a great dispositions to cry.
[Sings]
Melodious birds sing madrigals—
When as I sat in Pabylon—
And a thousand vagram posies.
To shallow &c.
|
5 |
Merry Wives of Windsor
[III, 1] |
Sir Hugh Evans |
1281 |
As I am a Christians soul now, look you, this is the
place appointed: I'll be judgement by mine host of
the Garter.
|