William Shakespeare Rot Quotations

What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood Is there not rain enough in the sweet heaves To wash it white as snow?

I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.

Before, I loved thee as a brother, John, But now, I do respect thee as my soul.

We few. We happy few. We band of brothers, for he today That sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother.

Fondling,' she saith, 'since I have hemm'd thee here Within the circuit of this ivory pale, I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer; Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale: Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

We came into the world like brother and brother, And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.

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

He that commends me to mine own content Commends me to the thing I cannot get. I to the world am like a drop of water That in the ocean seeks another drop, Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself: So I, to find a mother and a brother, In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.

Zounds! I was never so bethumped with words since I first called my brother's father dad.

Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale

From this day forward until the end of the world...we in it shall be remembered...we band of brothers.

Let's go hand in hand, not one before another.

O, my lord, You said that idle weeds are fast in growth: The prince my brother hath outgrown me far.

The lady doth protest too much, me thinks

I have shot mine arrow o'er the house And hurt my brother.

A rotten case abides no handling.

I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel, but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as, 'If you said so, then I said so;' and they shook hands and swore brothers. Your If is the only peacemaker; much virtue in If.

Flesh and blood, You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition, Expell'd remorse and nature, who, with Sebastian- Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong- Would here have kill'd your king, I do forgive thee, Unnatural though thou art.

Right joyous are we to behold your face, Most worthy brother England; fairly met!

There is little choice in a barrel of rotten apples.

A noble shalt thou have, and present pay; And liquor likewise will I give to thee, And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood.

We must love men, ere to us they will seem worthy of our love.

We came into the world like brother and brother;And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.

Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death the memory be green.

Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court?

But there is no such man; for, brother, men Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ache with air and agony with words.

Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.

I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.

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.

No, by my soul, I never in my life Did hear a challenge urged more modestly, Unless a brother should a brother dare To gentle exercise and proof of arms.

Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, Hiding they brav'ry in their rotten smoke?