William Shakespeare Blood Quotations

It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood.

Examine well your blood.

For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood.

Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth. But, either it was different in blood,- Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,- Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it.

I do know when the blood burns, how prodigal the soul lends the tongue vows.

The blood of youth burns not with such excess as gravity's revolt to wantonness.

But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts; whereof I take this that you call love to bea sect or scion.... It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will.

The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape, In forms imaginary, th' unguided days And rotten times that you shall look upon When I am sleeping with my ancestors.

Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, That would reduce these bloody days again And make poor England weep in streams of blood! Let them not live to taste this land's increase That would with treason wound this fair land's peace! Now civil wounds are stopped, peace lives again: That she may long live here, God say amen!

Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow. Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, And put sullen black incontinent. I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. March sadly after. Grace my mournings here In weeping after this untimely bier.

Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall find awaked in such a kind Both strength of limb and policy of mind, Ability in means, and choice of friends, To quit me of them throughly.

Do not give dalliance too much rein; the strongest oaths are straw to the fire in the blood.

Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.

Is this the generation of love? Hot blood, hot thoughts and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers. Is love a generation of vipers?

You cannot call it love, for at your age the heyday in the blood is tame

To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods.

From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition; And gentlemen in England now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men’s blood: I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know;

Hot blood begets hot thoughts, And hot thoughts beget Hot deeds, And hot deeds is love.

Myself--a prince by fortune of my birth, Near to the king in blood, and near in love Till you did make him misinterpret me-- Have stooped my neck under your injuries And sighed my English breath in foreign clouds, Eating the bitter bread of banishment, Whilst you have fed upon my signories, Disparked my parks and felled my forest woods, From my own windows torn my household coat, Rased out my imprese, leaving me no sign, Save men's opinions and my living blood, To show the world I am a gentleman.

Away! Thou'rt poison to my blood.

I am in blood Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er

When the blood burns, how prodigal the soulLends the tongue vows.

O, the blood more stirs To rouse a lion than to start a hare!

Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affairs of love. Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues. Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.

Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood.

Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother

where civil blood makes civil hands unclean

There is no sure foundation set on blood, No certain life achieved by others' death.

The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree.

All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, with sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear.

...too much sadness hath congealed your blood,And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.

And do so, love, yet when they have devised What strainèd touches rhetoric can lend, Thou, truly fair, wert truly sympathized In true plain words by thy true-telling friend; And their gross painting might be better used Where cheeks need blood; in thee it is abused.

Free from gross passion or of mirth of anger constant spirit, not swerving with the blood, garnish'd and deck'd in modest compliment, not working with the eye without the ear, and but in purged judgement trusting neither? Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem.

Blood will have blood.

Madam, you have bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins,

Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? - Lady Macbeth

A beggar's book outworths a noble's blood.

Blest are those Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled, That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please.

Two households, both alike in dignity In fair Verona, where we lay our scene From ancient grudge break to new mutiny Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life Whose misadventured piteous overthrows Do with their death bury their parents' strife.

I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?

I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er.

Why does my blood thus muster to my heart,Making both it unable for itself,And dispossessing all my other partsOf necessary fitness?

Why does my blood thus muster to my heart, and dispossessing all my other parts of necessary fitness?

The brain may devise laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps over a cold decree.

The blood more stirsTo rouse a lion than to start a hare!

I could a tale unfold whose lightest wordWould harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres.