Insecure
And here remain with your uncertainty!
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts!
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
Fan you into despair!
–Coriolanus,
Act I, Scene ii

And here remain with your uncertainty!
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts!
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
Fan you into despair!
–Coriolanus,
Act I, Scene ii

One that converses more
with the buttock of the night
than with the forehead of the morning.
–Coriolanus,
Act II, Scene i

You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate
As reek o’ the rotten fens, whose loves I prize
As the dead carcasses of unburied men
That do corrupt my air.
–Coriolanus,
Act III, Scene iii
What’s the matter, you dissentious rogues,
That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
Make yourselves scabs?
–Coriolanus,
Act I, Scene i

The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes.
–Coriolanus
Act V, Scene iv

Anger’s my meat: I sup upon myself,
And so shall starve with feeding.
—Coriolanus,
Act IV, Scene ii

More of your conversation would infect my brain.
–Coriolanus,
Act II, Scene i