Helena | Verse | O! were that all. I think not on my father | I i 41 |
Helena | Verse | Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, | I i 121 |
Countess | Verse | If ever we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn | I iii 41 |
Helena | Verse |
Then I confess here on my knee before high heaven and you | I iii 111 |
Helena | Verse | "Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France." | III ii 82 |
Countess | Verse |
What angel shall bless this unworthy husband? He cannot thrive, | III iv 29 |
Helena | Verse | That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd you, | IV iv 1 |
Rosalind intercut | Prose |
I have been told so of many; but indeed an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, | III ii 39 |
Phoebe | Verse | I would not be thy executioner: | III v 11 |
Rosalind | Verse | And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother, | III v 11 |
Phoebe | Verse | Think not I love him, though I ask for him. | III v 110-136 |
Rosalind intercut | Prose | O, I know where you are | V ii 15 |
Rosalind | Prose | It is not the fashion to see the lady epilogue | Epilogue |
Adriana | Verse | His company must do his minions grace | II i 85 |
Adrianna | Verse | Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange and frown: | II ii 113-149 |
Luciana | Verse | And may it be that you have quite forgot | III ii 1 |
Courtesan | Verse | Now, out of doubt, Antipholus is mad | IV iii 56 |
Lady Abbess | Verse | And therefore came it that the man was mad | V i 75 |
Adriana | Verse | May it please your grace, Antipholus my husband, | V i 144 |
Queen | Verse | Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou think in time | I ii 24 |
Imogen | Verse | I did not take my leave of him, but had | I iii 25 |
Imogen | Verse | Away! I do condemn mine ears that have | I vi 165 |
Queen | Verse |
That opportunity Which then they had to take from 's, to resume | III i 19 |
Imogen | Verse | Who? thy lord? that is my lord, Leonatus! | III ii 29 |
Imogen | Verse | Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place | III iv 1 |
Imogen | Verse | I false! Thy conscience witness: Iachimo, | III iv 39 |
Imogen | Verse |
Why, I must die; And if I do not by thy hand thou art | III iv 70 |
Imogen | Verse | I see a man's life is a tedious one | III vi 1 |
Imogen | Verse | Yes, sir, to Milford Haven. Which is the way? | IV ii 363 |
Cymbeline | Verse | O rare instinct! | III vi 1-27 |
Imogen | Verse | Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, | II i 15 |
Princess | Verse | See, see my beauty will be sav'd by merit | IV i 24 |
Princess | Verse | Sweethearts, we shall be rich ere we depart | V ii 1 |
Rosalind | Verse | They are worse fools to purchase mocking so | V ii 63 |
Rosalind | Verse | A time, methinks, too short | V ii 773 |
Rosalind | Verse | Oft have I heard of you, my lord Berowne | V ii 827 |
Isabella | Verse | Could great men thunder | II ii 137 |
Isabella | Verse | To whom should I complain? Did I tell this, | II iv 170 |
Isabella | Verse | O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch! | III i 151 |
Isabella intercut | Verse | Most strange but yet most truly will I speak | V i 42 |
Isabella | Verse | In brief, to set the needless process by | V i 110 |
Mistress Page | Prose |
What, have I scaped love-letters in the holiday-time of my beauty, | II i 1 |
Mistress Ford | Prose |
We burn Daylight. Here, Read, read; percieve how I might be knighted | II i 15 |
Mistress Quickly | Prose | Marry, this is the short and the long of it | II i 32 |
Mistress Page | Prose | There is an old tale goes that Herne the hunter | IV iv 24 |
Portia | Prose | If to do were as easy as to know | I ii 7 |
Portia | Verse | I pray you, tarry: pause a day or two | III ii 1 |
Portia | Verse | Away then! I am lock'd in one of them | III ii 44 |
Portia | Verse | You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand | III ii 136 |
Portia | Verse | They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit | III iv 64 |
Portia | Verse | The quality of mercy is not strain'd, | IV i 179 |
Beatrice | Verse | What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? | III i 113 |
Marina | Verse | Do anything but this thou doest | IV vi 113 |
Marina | Verse |
I am a maid, My lord, that ne'er before invited eyes | V i 99 |
Kate | Verse | No shame but mine. I must forsooth be forc'd | III ii 8-20 |
Kate | Verse | The more my wrong, the more his spite appears | IV iii 78-104 |
Kate | Verse | Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow | V ii 54 |
Miranda | Verse | If by your art, my dearest father, you have | I ii 1 |
*Miranda | Verse | Abhorred slave, which any print of goodness wilt not take | I ii 419 |
Miranda | Verse |
Alas, now, pray you, Work not so hard: I would the lightning had | III i 19 |
Miranda | Verse |
I do not know One of my sex; no woman's face remember, | III i 61 |
*The Edition (1914 Oxford) on the Bartleby server to which we link gives this speech to Prospero. The Riverside gives the speech to Miranda. The First Folio has it as Miranda's. |
Prologue | Verse | In Troy there lies the scene. From isles of Greece | Prologue |
Cressida | Verse | Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice | I ii 169 |
Cressida | Verse | Hard to seem won: but I was won, my lord | III ii 64 |
Viola | Verse | Above my fortunes, yet my state is well | I v 151 |
Viola | Verse | I left no ring with her: what means this lady? | II ii 8 |
Viola | Verse | O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful | III i 111 |
Julia | Verse | O hateful hands, to tear such loving words! | I ii 115 |
Julia | Verse | The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns | II vii 26 |
Silvia | Verse | O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman | IV iii 16 |
Julia | Verse | How many women would do such a message? | IV iv 51 |
Julia | Verse | A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful | IV iv 142 |
Hermione intercut | Verse |
There's some ill planet reigns I must be patient till the heavens look | II i 130 |
Paulina | Verse |
I dare be sworn These dangerous unsafe lunes i' the king, | II ii 42 |
Hermione | Verse |
Since what I am to say must be but that Which contradicts my accusation and | III ii 16 |
Hermione | Verse |
Sir, spare your threats: The bug which you would fright me with I seek. | III ii 90 |
Paulina | Verse | What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? | III ii 185 |
Time (Chorus) | Verse | I, that please some, try all, both joy and terror < | IV 0 1 |
Lady Hotspur | Verse | O, my good lord, why are you thus alone? | II iii 35 |
Rumour | Verse | Open your ears; for which of you will stop | Induction |
Quickly | Prose | I am undone by his going; I warrant you | II i 16 |
Quickly | Prose | Marry, if thou wert an honest man | II i 39 |
Lady Percy | Verse | O yet, for God's sake, go not to these wars! | II iii 11 |
Epilogue | Prose | First my fear; then my courtesy; last my speech. | V v 92 |
Chorus | Verse | O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend | Prologue 1 |
Chorus | Verse | Now all the youth of England are on fire | II prologue 1 |
Hostess | Prose | Nay, sure, he's not in hell: he's in Arthur's bosom | II iii 9 |
Chorus | Verse | Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies | III prologue 1 |
Chorus | Verse | Now entertain conjecture of a time | IV prologue 1 |
Joan | Verse | Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter | I ii 77 |
Joan | Verse | Assign'd am I to be the English scourge. | I ii 132 |
Joan intercut | Verse | Look on thy country, look on fertile France, | III iii 48 |
Joan | Verse | The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen fly. | V iii 1 |
Joan intercut | Verse | First, let me tell you whom you have condemn'd | V iv 39 |
Joan intercut | Verse | Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd corn | I ii 1 |
Queen | Verse | My Lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise | I iii 25 |
Eleanor | Verse | Ah, Gloucester, teach me to forget myself | II iv 31 |
Margaret | Verse | Can you not see? or will ye not observe | III i 6 |
Queen | Verse | Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolk thus? | III ii 62 |
Margaret | Verse | Be woe for me, more wretched than he is | III ii 9 |
Margaret | Verse | Who can be patient in such extremes? | I i 222 |
Margaret | Verse | Enforc'd thee! art thou king, and wilt be forc'd? | I i 237 |
Margaret | Verse | Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland | I iv 69 |
Margaret | Verse | Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts | III iii 24 |
Margaret | Verse | Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss, | V iv 1 |
Margaret | Verse | O Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy! | V v 54 |
Prologue | Verse | I come no more to make you laugh: things now | prologue |
Surveyor intercut | Verse | Not long before your highness sped to France | I ii 175 |
Katherine | Verse | Sir, I desire you do me right and justice | II iv 15 |
Katherine | Verse |
My lord, my lord, I am a simple woman, much too weak | II iv 115 |
Katherine | Verse | In which I have commended to his goodness | IV ii 156 |
Constance | Verse | Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth! | II i 182 |
First Citizen | Verse | That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanch | II i 439 |
Constance | Verse | Gone to be married! gone to swear a peace! | III i 1 |
Constance | Verse | If thou, that bid'st me be content, wert grim | III i 45 |
Constance | Verse | A wicked day, and not a holy day! | III i 87 |
Constance intercut | Verse | No, I defy all counsel, all redress | III iv 26 |
Constance | Verse | I tore them from their bonds and cried aloud | III iv 75 |
Constance | Verse | Grief fills the room up of my absent child | III iv 98 |
Duchess | Verse | Yet one word more. Grief boundeth where it falls | II ii 60 |
Constance | Verse | Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur? | I ii 11 |
Anne | Verse | Set down, set down your honourable load | I ii 1 |
Anne | Verse | What, do you tremble? are you all afraid? | I ii 43 |
Margaret | Verse | What? were you snarling all before I came, | I iii 193 |
Margaret | Verse | If heaven have any grievous plague in store | I iii 222 |
Duchess | Verse | Ah! so much interest have I in thy sorrow | II ii 46 |
Duchess | Verse | Accursed and unquiet wrangling days | II iv 61 |
Anne | Verse | No! why? When he that is my husband now | IV i 71 |
Margaret | Verse | Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge | IV iv 64 |
Margaret | Verse | I call'd thee then vain flourish of my fortune | IV iv 85 |
Cleopatra | Verse | Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he? | I v 26 |
Cleopatra | Verse | No more, but e'en a woman, and commanded | IV xiii 91 |
Cleopatra | Verse | Sir, I will eat no meat, I'll not drink, sir | V ii 62 |
Cleopatra | Verse | O Caesar what a wounding shame is this | V ii 194 |
Cleopatra intercut | Verse | Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have | V ii 315 |
Volumnia | Prose | If my son were my husband, I would freelier rejoice | I iii 1 |
Volumnia | Verse | Because that now it lies you on to speak | III ii 70 |
Volumnia | Verse | Should we be silent and not speak | V iii 108 |
Volumnia | Verse | Nay, go not from us thus | V iii 148 |
Ophelia intercut | Verse | O my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted! | II i 87 |
Ophelia | Verse | O what a noble mind is here o'erthrown | III i 132 |
Player Queen | Verse | So many journeys may the sun and moon | III ii 110 |
Ophelia intercut | Prose & Verse | How should I your true love know | IV v 27 |
Ophelia intercut | Prose & Verse | They bore him barefaced on the bier; | IV v 148 |
Gertrude intercut | Verse | One woe doth tread upon another's heel | IV vii 180 |
Portia | Verse | Nor for yours neither. You've ungently, Brutus, | II i 257 |
Portia | Verse | Is Brutus sick? and is it physical | II i 237-280 |
Calpurnia | Verse | Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies | II ii 13 |
Cordelia intercut | Verse |
Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave my heart into my mouth | I i 76 |
Goneril intercut | Verse | By day and night he wrongs me, every hour | I iii 5 |
Goneril | Verse | Not only, sir, this your all-licens'd fool | I iv 114 |
Goneril | Verse | This admiration, sir, is much o' th' favour | I iv 147 |
Lady Macbeth | Prose & Verse | They met me in the day of success | I v 1 |
Lady Macbeth | Verse |
The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan | I v 31 |
Lady Macbeth intercut | verse | Was the hope drunk wherein you dress'd yourself? | I vii 41 |
Desdemona | Verse |
My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty | I iii 201 |
Desdemona | Verse | That I [did] love the Moor to live with him | I iii 266 |
Desdemona | Verse | I prithee do so. Something sure of state, | I iii 150 |
Desdemona | Verse | Why then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn | III iii 71 |
Desdemona | Verse | Alas! thrice-gentle Cassio! | III iii 131 |
Desdemona | Verse |
Something, sure, of state, Either from Venice, or some unhatch'd practice | III iv 150 |
Desdemona | Verse |
Alas Iago, what shall i do to win my lord again? | IV ii 175 |
Emilia | Verse | But I do think it is their husband's faults | IV iii 72 |
Nurse intercut | Verse | Even or odd, of all days in the year | I iii 23 |
Lady Capulet | Verse | What say you, can you love the gentleman? | I iii 86 |
Juliet intercut | Verse | O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou | II ii 32-46 |
Juliet | Verse | O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! < | III ii 78 |
Juliet | Verse | Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face | II ii 85 |
Juliet | Verse | The clock strook nine when I did send the nurse | II v 1 |
Juliet | Verse | Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds | III ii 1 |
Juliet | Verse | Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? | III ii 104 |
Juliet intercut | Verse | Is there no pity sitting in the clouds | III v 211 |
Nurse | Verse | Faith, here it is, Romeo is banished | III v 215 |
Juliet | Verse | Tell me not, friar, that thou hearest of this | IV i 54 |
Juliet | Verse | Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again. | IV iii 18 |
Tamora | Verse | Stay, Roman brethren! Gracious conqueror, | I i 109 |
Tamora | Verse | My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou sad | II iii 13 |
Tamora | Verse | Have I not reason, think you, to look pale? | II iii 96 |
Tamora | Verse | King, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy name | IV iv 83 |
Tamora | Verse | Know, thou sad man, I am not Tamora | V ii 31 |
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