Beware Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in, Bear 't that the opposed may beware of thee. Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 3 Neither a borrower nor a lender be; Ibid. Springes to catch woodcocks. Ibid. When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul Ibid. Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence. Ibid. Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold. Sc. 4. But to my mind, though I am native here And to the manner born, it is a custom More honoured in the breach than the observance. Ibid. Angels and ministers of grace, defend us! Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damın'd, Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou comest in such a questionable shape That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet, King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me! Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? I do not set my life at a pin's fee. My fate cries out, Hamlet. Act i. Se 4. Ibid And makes each petty artery in this body Ibid. Unhand me, gentlemen. By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me ! Ibid Ibid. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. I am thy father's spirit, Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, And each particular hair to stand an end, But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list! Sc. 5 And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed Ibid 1 And makes night hideous. - POPE: The Dunciad, book iii. line 166. 2 "To lasting fires" in Singer. 3 "Porcupine" in Singer and Staunton. 4 "Rots itself" in Staunton. My uncle! O my prophetic soul! O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there! Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5 Ibid. But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air; Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, No reckoning made, but sent to my account Leave her to heaven Ibid Ibid. And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge, Ibid The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, Ibid. While memory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember thee! I'll wipe away all trivial fond records. Ibid. Within the book and volume of my brain. Ibid. O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! villain : Ibid. Ham. There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he's an arrant knave. Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, grave To tell us this. Every man has business and desire, come from the Ibid.. Such as it is. Ibid Art thou there, truepenny? Come on you hear this fellow in the cellarage. Ibid. O day and night, but this is wondrous strange! Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! The time is out of joint: O cursed spite, Ibid. Ibid. Ibid That he is mad, 't is true: 't is true 't is pity; And pity 't is 't is true. Ibid. To be honest as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand. Ibid. Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't. Ibid On fortune's cap we are not the very button. 1 A short saying oft contains much wisdom.-SOPHOCLES: Aletes, frág.99 Ibid. There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. A dream itself is but a shadow. Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2. Ibid. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks. Ibid. This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! Ibid. Man delights not me: no, nor woman neither. Ibid. There is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out. I know a hawk from a handsaw. Ibid. Ibid. O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst The play, I remember, pleased not the million; 't was caviare to the general. Ibid. They are the abstract and brief chronicles of the time: after your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live. Ibid. Use every man after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping? What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? Ibid Ibid |