William Shakespeare Quotes on Sons (35 Quotes)


    No, indeed, ist not; and I would to heaven
    I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.


    So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon,
    Unlooked on diest, unless thou get a son.

    We pray you throw to earth
    This unprevailing woe, and think of us
    As of a father; for let the world take note
    You are the most immediate to our throne,
    And with no less nobility of love
    Than that which dearest father bears his son
    Do I impart toward you.

    Your brother- no, no brother; yet the son-
    Yet not the son; I will not call him son
    Of him I was about to call his father-
    Hath heard your praises; and this night he means
    To burn the lodging where you use to lie,
    And you within it.


    Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy
    In thy uprightness and integrity,
    And so I love and honour thee and thine,
    Thy noble brother Titus and his sons,
    And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all,
    Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament,
    That I will here dismiss my loving friends,
    And to my fortunes and the people's favour
    Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd.

    Titus Andronicus, my lord the Emperor
    Sends thee this word, that, if thou love thy sons,
    Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus,
    Or any one of you, chop off your hand
    And send it to the King: he for the same
    Will send thee hither both thy sons alive,
    And that shall be the ransom for their fault.

    For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent
    In dangerous wars whilst you securely slept;
    For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed,
    For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd,
    And for these bitter tears, which now you see
    Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks,
    Be pitiful to my condemned sons,
    Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought.

    Now his son,
    Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all
    That made me happy, at one stroke has taken
    For ever from the world.

    Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up
    Issue to me; that the contending kingdoms
    Of France and England, whose very shores look pale
    With envy of each other's happiness,
    May cease their hatred; and this dear conjunction
    Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord
    In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance
    His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France.

    Let them speak, If they speak more or less
    than truth, they are villains and the sons of darkness.

    When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry.

    Thy overflow of good converts to bad;
    And thy abundant goodness shall excuse
    This deadly blot in thy digressing son.

    If you refuse it-as, in love and zeal,
    Loath to depose the child, your brother's son;
    As well we know your tenderness of heart
    And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,
    Which we have noted in you to your kindred
    And egally indeed to all estates-
    Yet know, whe'er you accept our suit or no,
    Your brother's son shall never reign our king;
    But we will plant some other in the throne
    To the disgrace and downfall of your house;
    And in this resolution here we leave you.

    I thank my liege that in regard of me
    He shortens four years of my son's exile;
    But little vantage shall I reap thereby,
    For ere the six years that he hath to spend
    Can change their moons and bring their times about,
    My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light
    Shall be extinct with age and endless night;
    My inch of taper will be burnt and done,
    And blindfold death not let me see my son.

    A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a base, proud,
    shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy,
    worsted-stocking knave; a lily-liver'd, action-taking, whoreson,
    glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue;
    one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of
    good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave,
    beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch;
    one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deny the
    least syllable of thy addition.


    Think with thyself
    How more unfortunate than all living women
    Are we come hither; since that thy sight, which should
    Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts,
    Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow,
    Making the mother, wife, and child, to see
    The son, the husband, and the father, tearing
    His country's bowels out.

    My lord, this is a poor mad soul, and she says up and
    down the town that her eldest son is like you.

    Hear me profess sincerely: had I a dozen
    sons, each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my
    good Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country
    than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.

    Her peerless feature, joined with her birth,
    Approves her fit for none but for a king;
    Her valiant courage and undaunted spirit,
    More than in women commonly is seen,
    Will answer our hope in issue of a king;
    For Henry, son unto a conqueror,
    Is likely to beget more conquerors,
    If with a lady of so high resolve
    As is fair Margaret he be link'd in love.

    I am in this
    Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles;
    And you will rather show our general louts
    How you can frown, than spend a fawn upon 'em
    For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard
    Of what that want might ruin.

    Sir,
    For holy offices I have a time; a time
    To think upon the part of business which
    I bear i' th' state; and nature does require
    Her times of preservation, which perforce
    I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,
    Must give my tendance to.

    If my son were my husband, I should freelier
    rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour than in the
    embracements of his bed where he would show most love.

    Those, for their parents were exceeding poor,
    I bought, and brought up to attend my sons.

    And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry,
    Command my eldest son, nay, all my sons,
    As pledges of my fealty and love.

    A villain kills my father; and for that,
    I, his sole son, do this same villain send
    To heaven.

    Venus salutes him with this fair good-morrow;
    "O thou clear god, and patron of all light,
    From whom each lamp and shining star doth borrow
    The beauteous influence that makes him bright,
    There lives a son that suck'd an earthly mother,
    May lend thee light, as thou dost lend to other.

    ... your noble son is mad Mad call I it for, to define true madness, What is't but to be nothing else but mad But let that go.

    Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John;
    But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown
    From this bare wither'd trunk.


    More William Shakespeare Quotations (Based on Topics)


    Love - Man - Mind - Kings & Queens - World - Time - Life - God - Friendship - Death & Dying - Belief & Faith - Heaven - War & Peace - Fairness - Speaking - Fool - Night - Fear - Soul - View All William Shakespeare Quotations

    More William Shakespeare Quotations (By Book Titles)


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    - King Lear
    - Much Ado About Nothing
    - Othello
    - The Merchant of Venice
    - The Taming of the Shrew
    - Twelfth Night

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    William Shakespeare - Tennessee Williams - Richard Steele - Philippe Quinault - Jean Racine - Henry Porter - Hannah Cowley - George S. Kaufman - Anton Chekhov - Alexandre Dumas


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