| |
RSS Feed - Site Map - Contact |
| Bible Quotes | Aristotle Quotes | Plato Quotes | Shakespeare Quotes |
Shakespeare quotes on hateAnd yet love knows it is a greater grief To bear greater wrong, than hate's known injury For thee, against my self I'll vow debate, For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate Book Source: THE SONNETS 152 In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn, But thou art twice forsworn to me love swearing, In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith torn, In vowing new hate after new love bearing This very day, Great Mars, I put myself into thy file; Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove A lover of thy drum, hater of love Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust; Our own love waking cries to see what's done, While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon Whilst he stood up and spoke, He was my master, and I wore my life To spend upon his haters I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please you; and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women- as I perceive by your simp'ring none of you hates them- that between you and the women the play may please Nor sleep nor sanctuary, Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol, The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice, Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst My hate to Marcius Faith, Source: THE TRAGEDY OF CORIOLANUS Enforce his pride And his old hate unto you; besides, forget not With what contempt he wore the humble weed; How in his suit he scorn'd you; but your loves, Thinking upon his services, took from you Th' apprehension of his present portance, Which, most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion After the inveterate hate he bears you Whether 'twas pride, Which out of daily fortune ever taints The happy man; whether defect of judgment, To fail in the disposing of those chances Which he was lord of; or whether nature, Not to be other than one thing, not moving From th' casque to th' cushion, but commanding peace Even with the same austerity and garb As he controll'd the war; but one of these- As he hath spices of them all- not all, For I dare so far free him- made him fear'd, So hated, and so banish'd This must be known; which, being kept close, might move More grief to hide than hate to utter love Strike! down with them! cut the villains' throats! Ah, whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed knaves! they hate us youth He calls us rebels, traitors, aid will scourge With haughty arms this hateful name in us The Prince but studies his companions Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language, 'Tis needful that the most immodest word Be look'd upon and learnt; which once attain'd, Your Highness knows, comes to no further use But to be known and hated Ah, what's more dangerous than this fond affiance? Seems he a dove? His feathers are but borrow'd, For he's disposed as the hateful raven Was I for this nigh wreck'd upon the sea, And twice by awkward wind from England's bank Drove back again unto my native clime? What boded this but well-forewarning wind Did seem to say 'Seek not a scorpion's nest, Nor set no footing on this unkind shore'? What did I then but curs'd the gentle gusts, And he that loos'd them forth their brazen caves; And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore, Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock? Yet Aeolus would not be a murderer, But left that hateful office unto thee My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth A bird that will revenge upon you all; And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven, Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with Now welcome more, and ten times more belov'd, Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate that nothing do I see in you- Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge- That I can find should merit any hate Then by the lawful power that I have Thou shalt stand curs'd and excommunicate; And blessed shall he be that doth revolt From his allegiance to an heretic; And meritorious shall that hand be call'd, Canonized, and worshipp'd as a saint, That takes away by any secret course Thy hateful life For heaven sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! Nay, hear me, Hubert! Drive these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a lamb; I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, Nor look upon the iron angrily; Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Whatever torment you do put me to [aside] One way I like this well; But being widow, and my Gloucester with her, May all the building in my fancy pluck Upon my hateful life If you can look into the seeds of time, And say which grain will grow and which will not, Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear Your favors nor your hate By heaven, fond wretch, thou know'st not what thou speak'st, Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour In hateful practice There's something tells me- but it is not love- I would not lose you; and you know yourself Hate counsels not in such a quality I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures Many that have at times made moan to me; Therefore he hates me Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap; Where fires thou find'st unrak'd, and hearths unswept, There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry; Our radiant Queen hates sluts and sluttery I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine; There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight; And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin, Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in; And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes, And make her full of hateful fantasies To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, When I am sure you hate me with your hearts What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead? Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt; Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest That I do hate thee and love Helena Yea, that she did; but yet, for all that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly Alas, poor heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours, for I will never love that which my friend hates Why, anything; An honorable murtherer, if you will, For nought did I in hate, but all in honor O, let my sovereign turn away his face And bid his ears a little while be deaf, Till I have told this slander of his blood How God and good men hate so foul a liar And that is the wavering commons; for their love Lies in their purses; and whoso empties them, By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate My lord, Before I freely speak my mind herein, You shall not only take the sacrament To bury mine intents, but also to effect Whatever I shall happen to devise And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover To entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain And hate the idle pleasures of these days Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she's your wife And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur'd I hate not you for her proud arrogance What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Cank'red with peace, to part your cank'red hate O, tell me, friar, tell me, In what vile part of this anatomy Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sack The hateful mansion But If thou dost break her virgin-knot before All sanctimonious ceremonies may With full and holy rite be minist'red, No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall To make this contract grow; but barren hate, Sour-ey'd disdain, and discord, shall bestrew The union of your bed with weeds so loathly That you shall hate it both A plague consume you wicked caitiffs left! Here lie I, Timon, who alive all living men did hate O brother, help me with thy fainting hand- If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath- Out of this fell devouring receptacle, As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister; O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been! But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives But in oblivion and hateful griefs This is the most despiteful'st gentle greeting The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of An't be any way, it must be with valour, for policy I hate; I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician The best way is to slander Valentine With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent- Three things that women highly hold in hate Upon this warrant shall you have access Where you with Silvia may confer at large- For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you- Where you may temper her by your persuasion To hate young Valentine and love my friend And I will follow, more to cross that love Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love Quotes for: Shakespeare Quotes
Source: Project Gutenburg Texts
|
|
Copyright © 2010