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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred

 
  • If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
 More direful hap betide that hated wretch Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks; You are deceiv'd, your brother Gloster hates you. What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word And turn you all your hatred now on me? Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee, Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred O day! O day! O day! O hateful day! My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred But thankful even for hate that is meant love. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! Please forgive me if I made an error; I'm a two-fingered typist. I hate not you for her proud arrogance. I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!-- 
More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred:

 If you do love my brother, hate not me; Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!-- Proud can I never be of what I hate;