Quotes About Loyalty

That sir which serves and seeks for gain,And follows but for form,Will pack when it begins to rain,And leave thee in the storm.

You are my true and honorable wife,As dear to me as are the ruddy dropsThat visit my sad heart.

I found you as a morsel, cold uponDead Caesar's trencher.

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

Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones!

O God! Horatio, what a wounded name,Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me.If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,Absent thee from felicity awhile,And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,To tell my story.

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.

For new-made honor doth forget men's names.

Come the three corners of the world in arms,And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue,If England to itself do rest but true.

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

Constant you are,But yet a woman: and for secrecy,No lady closer; for I well believeThou wilt not utter what thou dost not know;And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.

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.

How hard it is for women to keep counsel!

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:Follow your spirit; and, upon this chargeCry "God for Harry! England and Saint George!"

Who can be wise, amaz'd, temperate and furious,Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man.

I must dance barefoot on her wedding day,And, for your love to her, lead apes in hell.

Every subject's duty is the king's; but every subject's soul is his own.

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.

Why should I play the Roman fool; and dieOn mine own sword?

Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.

A light wife doth make a heavy husband.