William Shakespeare Quotes on Hope (39 Quotes)

No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.

That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love,
Duty, and zeal, to your unmatched mind,
Care of your food and living; and believe it,
My most honour'd lord,
For any benefit that points to me,
Either in hope or present, I'd exchange
For this one wish, that you had power and wealth
To requite me by making rich yourself.

'Tis better hope he is;
For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope.

Fling away ambition by that sin fell the angels how can man then, the image of his Maker, hope to win by it.

The miserable have no other medicine but only hope.

I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not:
As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.

For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.

I thank you for your wish, and am well pleas'd
To wish it back on you.

By this, far off she hears some huntsman hollo;
A nurse's song ne'er pleased her babe so well:
The dire imagination she did follow
This sound of hope doth labour to expel;
For now reviving joy bids her rejoice,
And flatters her it is Adonis' voice.

Blessèd are you whose worthiness gives scope,
Being had to triumph, being lacked to hope.

Whether it be through force of your report,
My noble Lord of Suffolk, or for that
My tender youth was never yet attaint
With any passion of inflaming love,
I cannot tell; but this I am assur'd,
I feel such sharp dissension in my breast,
Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear,
As I am sick with working of my thoughts.

From time to time I have acquainted you
With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page;
Who, mutually, hath answer'd my affection,
So far forth as herself might be her chooser,
Even to my wish.

Presently the Duke
Said 'twas the fear indeed and that he doubted
'Twould prove the verity of certain words
Spoke by a holy monk 'that oft' says he
'Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit
John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour
To hear from him a matter of some moment;
Whom after under the confession's seal
He solemnly had sworn that what he spoke
My chaplain to no creature living but
To me should utter, with demure confidence
This pausingly ensu'd: "Neither the King nor's heirs,
Tell you the Duke, shall prosper; bid him strive
To gain the love o' th' commonalty; the Duke
Shall govern England.

Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought.

Let me speak proudly: tell the Constable
We are but warriors for the working-day;
Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd
With rainy marching in the painful field;
There's not a piece of feather in our host-
Good argument, I hope, we will not fly-
And time hath worn us into slovenry.

To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm.

I lov'd your father, and we love ourself,
And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine

I pray thee, wish not one man more.

The miserable hath no other medicine but only hope.

All men, I hope, live so.

True hope is swift and flies with swallow's wings;
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.

And now what rests but that we spend the time; With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows, Such as befits the pleasure of the court; Sound drums and trumpets farewell sour annoy; For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.

But shall I live in hope?

So happy be the issue, brother England,
Of this good day and of this gracious meeting
As we are now glad to behold your eyes-
Your eyes, which hitherto have home in them,
Against the French that met them in their bent,
The fatal balls of murdering basilisks;
The venom of such looks, we fairly hope,
Have lost their quality; and that this day
Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love.

God shall be my hope, My stay, my guide and lantern to my feet.

I wish you all the joy you can wish.

Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition By that sin fell the angels how can man, then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by it Love thyself last cherish those hearts that hate thee Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr Serve the king And,prithee, lead me in There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny 'tis the king's my robe, And my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.

Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy will,
And Will to boot, and Will in overplus;
More than enough am I that vex thee still,
To thy sweet will making addition thus.

Wish me partaker in thy happiness
When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger,
If ever danger do environ thee,
Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers,
For I will be thy headsman, Valentine.

Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen.

Oft expectation fails, and most oft where most it promises and oft it hits where hope is coldest and despair most sits.

If there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and have more occasion to know one another I hope, upon familiarity will grow more contempt.

No faith, proud mistress, hope not after it;
'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.

I do desire to learn, sir; and I hope, if you have occasion
to use me for your own turn, you shall find me yare; for truly,
sir, for your kindness I owe you a good turn.

Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens yet unset,
With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:
So should the lines of life that life repair
Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair
Can make you live your self in eyes of men.

Ay, but I hope, sir, that you love not here.

And yet, to times in hope, my verse shall stand,Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

He hath abandon'd his physicians, madam; under whose
practices he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other
advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time.

Then, good my mother, let me know my father-
Some proper man, I hope.