I must be cruel, only to be kind.
I may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father.
I knew him tyrannous; and tyrants’ fears decrease not, but grow faster than the years.
I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A stage, where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one.
I have offended reputation, A most unnoble swerving.
I have been studying how I may compare This prison where I live unto the world: And for because the world is populous And here is not a creature but myself, I cannot do it; yet I’ll hammer it out.
I hate ingratitude more in a man Than lying, vainness, babbling drunkenness, Or any taint of vice.
I had rather have a fool to make me merry, than experience to make me sad; and to travel for it too.
I dote on his very absence.
I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads.
I cannot weep; for all my body’s moisture Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart.
I burn, I pine, I perish.