88 quotes
What! have I 'scaped love-letters in the holiday-time of my beauty, and am I now a subject for them?
That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry
Half my love with him, half my care and duty.
King Lear (1608)
If I can do it
By aught that I can speak in his dispraise,
She shall not long continue love to him.
Even at this sight
My heart is turn'd to stone: and while 'tis mine,
It shall be stony.
I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at; I am not what I am.
Othello (1603)
The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand.
Macbeth (1605)
No, the world must be peopled. When I said, I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.
Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming,
By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought
Put on for villany; not born where 't grows,
But worn a bait for ladies.
Cymbeline (1611)
If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day
When I shall ask the banns and when be married.
Most fair,
Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms
Such as will enter at a lady's ear
And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?
Henry V (1599)
Those he commands, move only in command,
Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
Upon a dwarfish thief.
Macbeth (1605)
Sweet fellowship in shame!
One drunkard loves another of the name.
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married.
Let fair humanity abhor the deed
That spots and stains love's modest snow-white weed.
Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse
And presently all humbled kiss the rod!
She is your treasure, she must have a husband;
I must dance barefoot on her wedding day
And for your love to her lead apes in hell.
He is the half part of a blessed man,
Left to be finished by such as she;
And she a fair divided excellence,
Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.
King John (1598)
Prosperity's the very bond of love.
Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:
For women are as roses, whose fair flower
Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.
Let husbands know,
Their wives have sense like them: they see, and smell,
And have their palates both for sweet and sour,
As husbands have.
Othello (1603)