# 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

74

Master Page, I am glad to see you: much good do it
your good heart! I wished your venison better; it
was ill killed. How doth good Mistress Page?—and I
thank you always with my heart, la! with my heart.

2

Merry Wives of Windsor
[I, 1]

Slender

81

How does your fallow greyhound, sir? I heard say he
was outrun on Cotsall.

3

Merry Wives of Windsor
[I, 1]

Bardolph

160

And being fap, sir, was, as they say, cashiered; and
so conclusions passed the careires.

4

Merry Wives of Windsor
[I, 3]

Nym

326

He was gotten in drink: is not the humour conceited?

5

Merry Wives of Windsor
[I, 3]

Falstaff

327

I am glad I am so acquit of this tinderbox: his
thefts were too open; his filching was like an
unskilful singer; he kept not time.

6

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.

7

Merry Wives of Windsor
[II, 1]

Mistress Ford

600

Mistress Page! trust me, I was going to your house.

8

Merry Wives of Windsor
[II, 1]

Mistress Page

601

And, trust me, I was coming to you. You look very
ill.

9

Merry Wives of Windsor
[II, 1]

Ford

787

Though Page be a secure fool, an stands so firmly
on his wife's frailty, yet I cannot put off my
opinion so easily: she was in his company at Page's
house; and what they made there, I know not. Well,
I will look further into't: and I have a disguise
to sound Falstaff. If I find her honest, I lose not
my labour; if she be otherwise, 'tis labour well bestowed.

10

Merry Wives of Windsor
[II, 2]

Hostess Quickly

833

I'll be sworn,
As my mother was, the first hour I was born.

11

Merry Wives of Windsor
[II, 2]

Falstaff

1004

Of what quality was your love, then?

12

Merry Wives of Windsor
[III, 3]

Mistress Page

1570

What a taking was he in when your husband asked who
was in the basket!

13

Merry Wives of Windsor
[III, 4]

Fenton

1642

No, heaven so speed me in my time to come!
Albeit I will confess thy father's wealth
Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne:
Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value
Than stamps in gold or sums in sealed bags;
And 'tis the very riches of thyself
That now I aim at.

14

Merry Wives of Windsor
[III, 5]

Falstaff

1748

Go fetch me a quart of sack; put a toast in't.
[Exit BARDOLPH]
Have I lived to be carried in a basket, like a
barrow of butcher's offal, and to be thrown in the
Thames? Well, if I be served such another trick,
I'll have my brains ta'en out and buttered, and give
them to a dog for a new-year's gift. The rogues
slighted me into the river with as little remorse as
they would have drowned a blind bitch's puppies,
fifteen i' the litter: and you may know by my size
that I have a kind of alacrity in sinking; if the
bottom were as deep as hell, I should down. I had
been drowned, but that the shore was shelvy and
shallow,—a death that I abhor; for the water swells
a man; and what a thing should I have been when I
had been swelled! I should have been a mountain of mummy.

15

Merry Wives of Windsor
[III, 5]

Falstaff

1780

Mistress Ford! I have had ford enough; I was thrown
into the ford; I have my belly full of ford.

16

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.

17

Merry Wives of Windsor
[III, 5]

Falstaff

1806

Master Brook, I will not lie to you: I was at her
house the hour she appointed me.

18

Merry Wives of Windsor
[III, 5]

Falstaff

1820

While I was there.

19

Merry Wives of Windsor
[III, 5]

Falstaff

1827

By the Lord, a buck-basket! rammed me in with foul
shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings, greasy
napkins; that, Master Brook, there was the rankest
compound of villanous smell that ever offended nostril.

20

Merry Wives of Windsor
[III, 5]

Falstaff

1832

Nay, you shall hear, Master Brook, what I have
suffered to bring this woman to evil for your good.
Being thus crammed in the basket, a couple of Ford's
knaves, his hinds, were called forth by their
mistress to carry me in the name of foul clothes to
Datchet-lane: they took me on their shoulders; met
the jealous knave their master in the door, who
asked them once or twice what they had in their
basket: I quaked for fear, lest the lunatic knave
would have searched it; but fate, ordaining he
should be a cuckold, held his hand. Well: on went he
for a search, and away went I for foul clothes. But
mark the sequel, Master Brook: I suffered the pangs
of three several deaths; first, an intolerable
fright, to be detected with a jealous rotten
bell-wether; next, to be compassed, like a good
bilbo, in the circumference of a peck, hilt to
point, heel to head; and then, to be stopped in,
like a strong distillation, with stinking clothes
that fretted in their own grease: think of that,—a
man of my kidney,—think of that,—that am as subject
to heat as butter; a man of continual dissolution
and thaw: it was a miracle to scape suffocation.
And in the height of this bath, when I was more than
half stewed in grease, like a Dutch dish, to be
thrown into the Thames, and cooled, glowing hot,
in that surge, like a horse-shoe; think of
that,—hissing hot,—think of that, Master Brook.