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Shakespeare Quotes from Coriolanus

133 passages from Dictionary of Shakespearian Quotations (1892), each filed under the passion it answers.

Pray be counsel'd: I have a heart as little apt as yours, But yet a brain, that leads my use of anger To better 'vantage.— filed under Advice

Never anger made good guard for itself. This tyger-footed rage, when it shall find The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will, too late,— filed under Anger

And straight is cold again Anger's my meat: I sup upon myself,— filed under Anger

Say, what's thy name? Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn— filed under Aspect, Martial

Thou show'st a noble vessel. He is able to pierce a corslet with his eye talks like a— filed under Aspect, Martial

I'll lean upon one crutch, and fight with the other,— filed under Battle

Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman, Prosperity be thy page !— filed under Benediction

And topping all others in boasting.— filed under Boasting

BOLDNESS.. What I think, I utter; and spend my malice in my breath.— filed under Boasting

Even so; As with a man by his own alms empoison'd, And with his charity slain.— filed under Bounty

Chaste as the icicle, That's curded by the frost from purest snow, And hangs on Dian's temple.— filed under Dissolving

You have made good work, You and your apron men; you that stood so much Upon the voice of occupation, and The breath of garlic-eaters.— filed under Commotion

It is a purpos'd thing, and grows by plot, To curb the will of the nobility :- Suffer it, and live with such as cannot rule And never will be rul'd.— filed under Conspiracy

Thou art left, Marcius: A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks, and The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds, Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the world Were feverous and did tremble.— filed under Coriolanus

His nature is too noble for the world: He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's his mouth : What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent; And, being angry, does forget that ever He heard the name of death.— filed under Coriolanus

For courage mounteth with occasion. For this last, Before and in Corioli, let me say, I cannot speak him home; he stopp'd the fliers ; And by his rare example, make the coward Turn terror into sport: as waves before A vessel under sail, so men obey'd, And fell below his stern: his sword, death's stamp Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot, He was a thing of blood, whose every motion— filed under Difficulties Of

He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion. M. A. i. 1. When by and by the din of war 'gan pierce His ready sense His ready sense; then straight his doubled spirit in flesh was fatigate, And to the battle came he; where he did Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if ' Twere a perpetual spoil; and till we call'd Both field and city ours he never stood To ease his breath with panting.— filed under Ourage

Alone he enter'd The mortal gate o' the city, which he painted With shunless destiny, aidless came off, And with a sudden reinforcement struck Corioli, like a plane.— filed under Ourage

Our then dictator Whom without praise I point at, saw him fight, When with his Amazonian chin he drove The bristled lips before him: he bestrid An o'erpress'd Roman, and i' the consul's view, Slew three opposers.— filed under Ourage

You souls of geese, That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell! All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home, Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe, And make my wars on you: Look to't.— filed under Cowards

marry and amen! The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat, as they did budge— filed under Toward

I would the gods had nothing else to do, But to confirm my curses!— filed under Curs

Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, Vagabond exile, flaying; pent to linger But with a grain a day, I would not buy Their mercy at the price of one fair word.— filed under Defiance

Thou injurious tribune! Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say, Thou liest, unto thee, with voice as free As I do pray the gods.— filed under Defiance

What a falling off was there! But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic; And manhood is call'd foolery, when it stands— filed under Degeneracy

We call a nettle but a nettle; and The faults of fools but folly.— filed under Designation

I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun, And wish the estate of the world were now undone. M. v. 5. Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, Fan you into despair.— filed under Despair

He had not din'd: The veins unfill'd, the blood is cold, and then We pout upon the morning, are unapt To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff"d These pipes and these conveyances of our blood Shakespearinn Dictionary. With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls Than in our priest-like fasts; therefore I'll watch him Till he be dieted to my request, And then I'll set upon him.— filed under Dinner

Who rather had, Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold Dissentious numbers pestering streets, than see Our tradesmen singing in their shops, and going About their functions freely.— filed under Disturbers

Fame, at the which he aims,- In whom already he is well grac'd, cannot Better be held, nor more attain'd, than by A place below the first: for what miscaries Shall be the general's fault, though he perform To the utmost of a man; and giddy censure Will then cry out of Marcius, O, if he Had borne the business!— filed under Fame

I need not be barren of accusations; he hath faults, with— filed under Favour

Like a dull actor now, I have forgot my part, and I am out, Even to a full disgrace.— filed under Forgetfulness

The anvil of my sword; and do contest As hotly and as nobly with thy love, As ever in ambitious strength I did Contend against thy valour.— filed under Friend

That we have been familiar, Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather Than pity note how much.— filed under Friend

A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep, And I could laugh; I am light, and heavy: Welcome: A curse begin at very root of his heart, That is not glad to see thee!— filed under Greeting

Some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen.— filed under Hangmen

Were half to half the world by th' ears, and he Upon my party, I'd revolt, to make Only my wars with him: he is a lion C.il That I am proud to hunt. 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: where I find him, were it At home, upon my brother's guard, even there HATRED, omtinued. Against the hospitable canon, would I Wash my fierce hand in 's heart.— filed under Hatred

By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd.— filed under Honour

If it be honour, in your wars, to seem The same you are not, (which for your best ends, You adopt your policy,) how is it less, or worse, That it shall hold companionship in peace With honour, as in war; since that to both— filed under Honour

You stand upon your honour!-Why, thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do to keep the terms of mine honour precise. I, I, I myself sometimes, leaving the fear of heaven on the left hand, and hiding mine honour in my necessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch; and yet you, rogue, will ensconce your rags, your cat-a mountain looks, your red-lattice phrases, and your boldbeating oaths under the shelter of your honour? M. W. ii. 2. I have heard you say, Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, I' the war do grow together: Grant that, and tell me, In peace, what each of them by the other lose,— filed under Honour

I heard him swear, Were he to stand for consul, never would he Appear i' the market-place, nor on him put The napless vesture of humility.— filed under Humility

Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun; Murd'ring impossibility, to make What cannot be, slight work.— filed under Impossibilities

And one infect another Against the wind a mile.— filed under Infection

I'll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak: I'll have my bond: and therefore speak no more. M. V. iii. 3. There's no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger.— filed under Inflexibility

Ingratitude is monstrous: and for the multitude to be ingrateful, were to make a monster of the multitude.— filed under Ingratitude

Thus we debase The nature of our seats, and make the rabble Call our cares, fears; which will in time break ope The locks o' th' senate, and bring in the crows— filed under Innovation

Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee :-Hoo! Marcius is coming home!— filed under Joy

Why, hark you; The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes, Tabors, and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, Make the sun dance.— filed under Joy

But that I see thee here, Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart Than when I first my wedded mistress saw Bestride my threshold.— filed under Joy

Italy. Being incens'd, he's flint; As humorous as winter, and as sudden As flaws congealed in the spring of day. His temper therefore must be well observ'd: Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth; But, being moody, give him line and scope, Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, Confound themselves with working. H. IV. PT. II. iv. 4. A very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience.— filed under Joy

You dismiss the controversy bleeding, the more entangled by your hearing.— filed under Judges, Dilatory

Our spoils he kick'd at; And look'd upon things precious, as they were The common muck o'the world: he covets less Than misery itself would give; rewards His deeds with doing them; and is content To spend the time to end it.— filed under Magnanimity

Your honours'pardon; I had rather have my wounds to heal again, Than hear say how I got them.— filed under Magnanimity

I had rather have one to scratch my head i' the sun, When the alarum was struck, than idly sit To hear my nothings monster'd.— filed under Magnanimity

He had rather venture all his limbs for honour, Than one of his ears to hear it.— filed under Magnanimity

Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome, And occupations perish!— filed under Malediction

All unity on earth. I will fight Against my canker'd country, with the spleen Of all the under fiends.— filed under Malevolence

I was hardly moved to come to thee; but being assured none but myself could move thee, I have been blown out of your gates with sighs; and conjure thee to pardon Rome, and thy petitionary countrymen.— filed under Mediator

Better it is to die, better to starve,— filed under Merit

Bear from hence his body, And mourn you for him; let him be regarded As the noblest corse; that ever herald Did follow to his urn.— filed under Mighty Dead

Here come the clusters.— filed under Mob

The mutable, rank-scented many.— filed under Mob

MOB,-amtinued. They threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o' the moon,— filed under Mob

Shouting their emulation. He that will give good words to thee, will flatter Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs, That like nor peace, nor war? The one affrights you, The other makes you proud. He that trusts you, Where he should find you lions, finds you hares; Where foxes, geese: You are no surer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon the ice, Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is, To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him, And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatness, Deserves your hate; and your affections are A sick man's appetite, who desires most that Which would increase his evil. He that depends Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead, And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust ye? With every minute you do change a mind; And call him noble, that was now your hate;— filed under Mob

Him vile, that was your garland. You are they That made the air unwholesome, when you cast Your stinking, greasy caps, in hooting at— filed under Mob

You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens; whose love I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men— filed under Mob

Even in the force and road of casualty. The rabble should have first unroof d the city, Ere so prevail'd with me: it will in time Win upon power, and throw forth greater themes For insurrection's arguing.— filed under Mob

You have made good work, You, and your apron-men.— filed under Mob

Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth, As I can of those mysteries which heaven— filed under Mob

Will not have earth to know. They said they were an hungry, sigh'd forth proverbs; That, hunger broke stone walls; that, dogs must eat; That, meat was made for mouths; that, the gods sent not Corn for the rich men only:-With these shreds They vented their complainings.— filed under Mob

Whose rage doth rend Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear What they are us'd to bear.— filed under Mob

- The horn and noise o' the monsters.— filed under Mob

The tongues o' the common mouth.— filed under Mob

Too modest are you; More cruel to your good report, than grateful To us that give you truly.— filed under Modesty

To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air, And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt That should but rive an oak.— filed under Much Ado About Nothing

Go back; the virtue of your name Is not here passable.— filed under Name

There's villainous news abroad. o, slaves, I can tell you news; news, you rascals. C. iv.— filed under News

He no more remembers his mother now, than an eight year old horse.— filed under Oblivion

You are smelt Above the moon.— filed under Odium

I'd have beaten him like a dog, but for disturbing the lords within.— filed under Office

Our virtues Lie in the interpretation of the time.— filed under Opinion

Back, I say, go; lest I let forth your half pint of blood ;--— filed under Opposition

For in such business, Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant More learned than their ears.— filed under Orator

Pray, be content; Mother, I am going to the market-place; Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves, Cog their hearts from them, and come home belov'd Of all the trades in Rome.— filed under Orator

Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart A root of antient envy.— filed under Pacification

O, let me twine Mine arms about that body, where against My grained ash an hundred times hath broke, And scarr'd the moon with splinters!— filed under Pacification

This peace is nothing, but to rust iron, increase tailors, and breed ballad-makers.— filed under Peace

Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy: mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible.— filed under Peace

The people are the city.— filed under People

Let them pull all about mine ears; present me Death on the wheel, or at wild horses' heels; Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, That the precipitation might down stretch Below the beam of sight, yet will I still Be thus to them.— filed under Pertinacity

Speak of Mortimer! Zounds, I will speak of him: and let my soul Want mercy, if I do not join with him: Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins, And shed my dear blood, drop by drop, i' the dust.. But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer As high i' the air as this unthankful king, As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke. H. IV. PT. 1. i. 3 Pent to linger But with a grain a day, I would not buy Their mercy at the price of one fair word; Nor check my courage for what they can give, To hav't with saying,-Good morrow.— filed under Pertinacity

Thou injurious tribune! Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say, Thou liest, unto thee, with a voice as free As I do pray the gods.— filed under Pertinacity

Choler! Were I as patient as the midnight sleep, Rv Jove, 'twould be my mind.— filed under Pertinacity

They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know What's done i'the Capitol: who's like to rise, Who thrives, and who declines; side factions, and give out Conjectural marriages; making parties strong, And feebling such as stand not in their liking, Below their cobbled shoes.— filed under Politicians

All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights— filed under Popularity

In earnestness to see him. Had I so lavish of my presence been, So common hackney'd in the eyes of men So stale and cheap to vulgar company; Opinion, that did help me to the crown, Had still kept loyal to possession, And left me in reputeless banishment, A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood. By being seldom seen, I could not stir, But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at: That men would tell their children, That is he; Others would say, Where? which is Bolingbroke And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, And dress'd myself in such humility, That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, Loud shouts and salutations from men's mouths, Even in the presence of the crowned king. Thus did I keep my person fresh and new; My presence, like a robe pontifical, Ne'er seen, but wonder'd at: and so my state, Seldom, but sumptuous, showed like a feast; And won, by rareness, such solemnity. The skipping king, he ambled up and down, With shallow jesters, and rash pavin wits, Soon kindled, and soon burn'd: carded his state; Mingled his royalty with carping fools; Had his great name profaned with his scorns; And gave his countenance, against his name, To laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push Of every beardless vain comparative: Grew a companion to the common streets, Enfeoff'd himself to popularity: That being daily swallowed by men's eyes, They surfeited with honey; and began To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much. So, when he had occasion to be seen, He was but as the cuckoo is in June, Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes, As, sick and blunted with community, Afford no extraordinary gaze, Such as is bent on sun-like majesty When it shines seldom in admiring eyes. H. IV. PT. I. iii. 2, I have seen The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind To hear him speak: the matrons flung their gloves, Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs, Upon him as he pass'd: the nobles bended, As to Jove's statue; and the commons made A shower, and thunder, with their caps and shouts.— filed under Popularity

He returns, Splitting the air with noise.— filed under Popularity

Since the wisdom of their choice, is rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practise the insinuating nod, and be off to them most counterfeitly; that is, Sir, I will counterfeit the bewitchment of some popular man, and give it— filed under Popularity

The wisdom of their choice is, rather to have my hat than my heart.— filed under Popularity

I had rather have one scratch my head i' the sun, When the alarum was struck, than idly sit— filed under Popularity

To hear my nothings monster'd. Faith, there have been many great men who have flattered the people, who ne'er loved them; and there be many that they have lov'd, they know not wherefore; so that, if they love they know not why, they hate upon no— filed under Popularity

Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other station;— filed under Poverty

A staff is quickly found to beat a dog. H. VI. PT. II. iii. 1. They say, poor suitors have strong breaths.— filed under Poverty

And make it halt behind her. You shall not be The grave of your deserving: Rome must know The value of her own: 'twere a concealment Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,— filed under Praise

My pretext to strike at him admits A good construction.— filed under Pretext

Very well; and could be content to give him good report for't, but that he pays himself with being proud.— filed under Pride

We have been down together in my sleep, Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, And wak'd half dead with nothing.— filed under Rancour

Suffer it, and live with such as cannot rule, Nor ever will be rul'd.— filed under Rebellion

You may as well Strike at the heaven with your staves, as lift them Against the Roman state; whose course will on The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs Of more strong link asunder, than can ever Appear in your impediment.— filed under Rebellion

Why, he is so made on here within, as if he were son and heir to Mars: set at upper end o' the table: no questions asked him by any of the senators, but they stand bald before him.— filed under Regard

Our general himself makes a mistress of him; sanctifies himself with 's hand, and turns up the white o the eye to his discourse.— filed under Regard

Well of that remedy can no man speak, That heals the loss, and cures not the disgrace Poems, REMEDIES MUST BE SUITED TO THE CASE. Sir, these cold ways, That seem like prudent heips, are very poisonous Where the disease is violent— filed under Remedies

There is no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a— filed under Rigour

You speak of the people, as if you were a god, To punish; not a man of their infirmity.— filed under Scorn

Scorn at first, makes after love the more. I will not do't: Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth, And, by my body's action, teach my mind— filed under Scorn

Here do we make his friends Blush, that the world goes well; who rather had Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold Dissentious numbers pestering streets, than see Our tradesmen singing in their shops, and going— filed under Sedition:

Consider this: He hath been bred i' the wars Since he could draw a sword, and is ill-school'd In boulted language; meal and bran together He throws without distinction.— filed under Soldier

Consider further, That when he speaks not like a citizen, You find him like a soldier: Do not take His rougher accents for malicious sounds, But, as I say, such as become a soldier.— filed under Soldier

As you are toss'd with. With the spleen of all the under fiends.— filed under Spleen

Condition! What good condition can a treaty find I' the part that is at mercy?— filed under Subjection

I shall tell you A pretty tale.— filed under Tale

Truth loves open dealing. Would, half my wealth— filed under Ruth

Dispropertied their freedoms; holding them, In human action and capacity, Of no more soul, nor fitness for the world, Than camels in their war; who have their provand Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows For sinking under them.— filed under Tyrant

Most dignifies the haver: if it be, • The man I speak of cannot in the world Be singly counterpois'd.— filed under Valour

If Jupiter Should from yond' cloud speak divine things And say, 'tis true, I'd not believe them more Than thee, all noble Marcius.— filed under Veracity

The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor, More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue, From every meaner man's.— filed under Voice

And ostentation of despightful arms? He is their god; he leads them like a thing, Made by some other deity than nature, That shapes man better; and they follow him, Against us brats, with no less confidence, Than boys pursuing summer butterflies, Or butchers killing flies.— filed under War

To fierce and bloody inclination. It is war's prize to take all vantages, And ten to one is no impeach of valour. H. VI. PT. III. i. 4. Thou know'st, great son, The end of war's uncertain.— filed under War

Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace, as far as day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent.— filed under War

A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep, And I could laugh; I am light, and heavy: welcome: A curse begin at very root of his heart, That is not glad to see thee!— filed under Welcome

Under the canopy.— filed under World

Wherein we play. O, world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn, Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart, Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal, and exercise Are still together: who twin, as 'twere, in love, Unseparable, shall within this hour, On a dissention of a doit, break out To bitterest enmity: So, fellest foes, Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep, To take the one the other, by some chance, Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends, And interjoin their issues.— filed under World

A discontented friend, grief-shot— filed under Wound