Quotes About Betrayal

Mine enemy's dog,Though he had bit me, should have stood that nightAgainst my fire.

Come, seeling night,Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day,And with thy bloody and invisible handCancel and tear to pieces that great bondWhich keeps me pale! Light thickens, and the crowMakes wing to the rooky wood.

And be these juggling friends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double sense; That keep the word of promise to our ear And break it to our hope.

Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be untilGreat Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hillShall come against him.

I like not fair terms and a villain's mind.

A plague o' both your houses!They have made worms' meat of me.

To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose,And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke.

She speaks poniards, and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her; she would infect to the north star.

Fie, fie upon her!There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look outAt every joint and motive of her body.

Reputation, reputation, reputation! O! I have lost my reputation. I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial.

False as dicers' oaths.

Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes;For treason is but trusted like the fox.

There's such divinity doth hedge a king,That treason can but peep to what it would.

Great Caesar fell.O! what a fall was there, my countrymen;Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.

She was as false as water.

To show an unfelt sorrow is an officeWhich the false man does easy.

Away, and mock the time with fairest show:False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark,But he's an arrant knave.

The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief.

Look like the innocent flower,But be the serpent under 't.

Take, O take those lips away,That so sweetly were forsworn;And those eyes, the break of day,Lights that do mislead the morn:But my kisses bring again, bring again,Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, seal'd in vain.

Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed,That he is grown so great?

I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.

A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper.