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Anger: Quotations from Shakespearian Quotations

To be in anger is impiety, But who is man that is not angry.— T. A. iii. 5.

Never anger made good guard for itself. This tyger-footed rage, when it shall find The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will, too late,— C. iii. 1.

Tie leaden pounds to his heels. Stay, my lord! And let your reason with your choler question What 'tis you go about. To climb steep hills Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like A full hot horse, who, being allowed his way, Self mettle tires him.— H. VIII. i. 1

It were for me To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods; To tell them that this world did equal theirs, Till they had stol'n our jewel, All's but naught; Patience is sottish; and impatience does Become a dog that's mad.— A. C. iv. 13

Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool Art thou, to break into this woman's mood. H. IV. PT. I. i. 3 Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from, Well could I curse away a winter's night, Though standing naked on a mountain top, Where biting cold would never let grass grow, And think it but a minute spent in sport.— H. VI. PT. II. iii. 2

Away to heaven, respective lenity,— R. J. iii. 1

And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now. What! drunk with choler? stay, and pause awhile.— H. IV. PT. I. i. 3.

A plague upon them! wherefore should I curse them? Would curses kill as doth the mandrake's groan, I would invent as bitter-searching terms, As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, Delivered strongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many signs of deadly hate, As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave: My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words; Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint; My hair be fix'd on end, as one distract; Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban: And even now my burdened heart would break, Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink! Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste! Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees! Their chiefest prospect, murd'ring basilisks! 'Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings! Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss ; And boding screech-owls make the concert full!— H. VI. PT. II. iii, 2

Be advis'd; Heat not a furnace for your foes so hot, That it do singe yourself: we may out-run, By violent swiftness, that which we run at, And lose by over-running. Know you not, The fire that mounts the liquor till't run o'er, In seeming to augment it, wastes it. Be advis'd.— H. VIII. i. 1

O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Then with a passion would I shake the world. K. J. iii. 4 I am about to weep; but, thinking that We are a queen, (or long have dream'd so) certain, The daughter of a king, my drops of tears I'll turn to sparks of fire.— H. VIII. ii. 4

O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb That carries anger as the flint bears fire; Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,— J. C. iv. 3

And straight is cold again Anger's my meat: I sup upon myself,— C. iv. 2

And so shall starve with feeding.— K. L. ii. 2

But anger has a privilege. By the gods You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you: for, from this day forth, laughter, I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my— J. C. iv. 3.

When you are waspish.