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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 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
First Gentleman |
2 |
You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods
No more obey the heavens than our courtiers
Still seem as does the king.
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2 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
First Gentleman |
6 |
His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom
He purposed to his wife's sole son—a widow
That late he married—hath referr'd herself
Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: she's wedded;
Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all
Is outward sorrow; though I think the king
Be touch'd at very heart.
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3 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
First Gentleman |
14 |
He that hath lost her too; so is the queen,
That most desired the match; but not a courtier,
Although they wear their faces to the bent
Of the king's look's, hath a heart that is not
Glad at the thing they scowl at.
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4 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
First Gentleman |
20 |
He that hath miss'd the princess is a thing
Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her—
I mean, that married her, alack, good man!
And therefore banish'd—is a creature such
As, to seek through the regions of the earth
For one his like, there would be something failing
In him that should compare. I do not think
So fair an outward and such stuff within
Endows a man but he.
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5 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
First Gentleman |
34 |
I cannot delve him to the root: his father
Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour
Against the Romans with Cassibelan,
But had his titles by Tenantius whom
He served with glory and admired success,
So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus;
And had, besides this gentleman in question,
Two other sons, who in the wars o' the time
Died with their swords in hand; for which
their father,
Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow
That he quit being, and his gentle lady,
Big of this gentleman our theme, deceased
As he was born. The king he takes the babe
To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus,
Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber,
Puts to him all the learnings that his time
Could make him the receiver of; which he took,
As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd,
And in's spring became a harvest, lived in court—
Which rare it is to do—most praised, most loved,
A sample to the youngest, to the more mature
A glass that feated them, and to the graver
A child that guided dotards; to his mistress,
For whom he now is banish'd, her own price
Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue;
By her election may be truly read
What kind of man he is.
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6 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
Second Gentleman |
73 |
That a king's children should be so convey'd,
So slackly guarded, and the search so slow,
That could not trace them!
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7 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
Queen |
96 |
You know the peril.
I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying
The pangs of barr'd affections, though the king
Hath charged you should not speak together.
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8 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
Posthumus Leonatus |
111 |
My queen! my mistress!
O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause
To be suspected of more tenderness
Than doth become a man. I will remain
The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth:
My residence in Rome at one Philario's,
Who to my father was a friend, to me
Known but by letter: thither write, my queen,
And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send,
Though ink be made of gall.
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9 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
Posthumus Leonatus |
131 |
Should we be taking leave
As long a term as yet we have to live,
The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!
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10 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
Imogen |
134 |
Nay, stay a little:
Were you but riding forth to air yourself,
Such parting were too petty. Look here, love;
This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart;
But keep it till you woo another wife,
When Imogen is dead.
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11 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
Posthumus Leonatus |
140 |
How, how! another?
You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
And sear up my embracements from a next
With bonds of death!
[Putting on the ring]
Remain, remain thou here
While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest,
As I my poor self did exchange for you,
To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles
I still win of you: for my sake wear this;
It is a manacle of love; I'll place it
Upon this fairest prisoner.
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12 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
(stage directions) |
152 |
[Putting a bracelet upon her arm]
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13 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
Imogen |
164 |
There cannot be a pinch in death
More sharp than this is.
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14 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
Cymbeline |
166 |
O disloyal thing,
That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st
A year's age on me.
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15 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
Imogen |
169 |
I beseech you, sir,
Harm not yourself with your vexation
I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare
Subdues all pangs, all fears.
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16 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
Imogen |
176 |
O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle,
And did avoid a puttock.
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17 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
Cymbeline |
178 |
Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne
A seat for baseness.
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18 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
Imogen |
180 |
No; I rather added
A lustre to it.
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19 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
Imogen |
183 |
Sir,
It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus:
You bred him as my playfellow, and he is
A man worth any woman, overbuys me
Almost the sum he pays.
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20 |
Cymbeline
[I, 1] |
Imogen |
189 |
Almost, sir: heaven restore me! Would I were
A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus
Our neighbour shepherd's son!
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