# 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

Coriolanus
[V, 3]

Coriolanus

3556

What is this?
Your knees to me? to your corrected son?
Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach
Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds
Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun;
Murdering impossibility, to make
What cannot be, slight work.

2

Hamlet
[V, 1]

Priest

3558

Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd
As we have warranty. Her death was doubtful;
And, but that great command o'ersways the order,
She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd
Till the last trumpet. For charitable prayers,
Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her.
Yet here she is allow'd her virgin rites,
Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home
Of bell and burial.

3

Henry VIII
[V, 4]

Man

3309

The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a
fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a
brazier by his face, for, o' my conscience, twenty
of the dog-days now reign in's nose; all that stand
about him are under the line, they need no other
penance: that fire-drake did I hit three times on
the head, and three times was his nose discharged
against me; he stands there, like a mortar-piece, to
blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small
wit near him, that railed upon me till her pinked
porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a
combustion in the state. I missed the meteor once,
and hit that woman; who cried out 'Clubs!' when I
might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to
her succor, which were the hope o' the Strand, where
she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my
place: at length they came to the broom-staff to
me; I defied 'em still: when suddenly a file of
boys behind 'em, loose shot, delivered such a shower
of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in,
and let 'em win the work: the devil was amongst
'em, I think, surely.