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Unpack my heart with words, And fall a-cursing, like a very drab. Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2.

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ."


The devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape.


Abuses me to damn me.


The play's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.


With devotion's visage
And pious action we do sugar o'er
The devil himself.

Act iii. Sc. 1

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 't is nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them ? To die: to sleep:
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, — 't is a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream : ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make

1 See Chaucer, page 5.

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With a bare bodkin? who would fardels 'bear,
To grunt and sweat under à weary, life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of ?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue, of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.

Ibid. Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. Ibid. I am myself indifferent honest.

Ibid. Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, go. Ibid.

I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another.

Ibid. 0, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, sword.

Ibid. The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observed of all observers !

Ibid. Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.

Ibid. .

O, woe is me, To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!


1 “Who would these fardels” in White.

Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. Oh, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwigpated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who for the most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it out-herods Herod.

Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2, Suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature.


To hold, as 't were,

the mirror

to nature.

Ibid. The very age and body of the time his form and pressure.

Ibid. Though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve. Not to speak it profanely.

Ibid. I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men and not made them well, they imitated humanity so




First Play. We have reformed that indifferently with

us, sir.

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Ham. O, reform it altogether.
Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
As e'er my conversation coped withal.
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee
Where thrift may follow fawning.
A man that fortune's buffets and rewards
Hast ta’en with equal thanks.



They are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay,


my heart of heart, As I do thée. - Something too much of this.

Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2. And my imaginations are as foul As Vulcan's stithy.


Here's metal more attractive.


life half a year.

Nay, then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a suit of sables.

Ibid, There's hope a great man's memory may outlive his

Ibid. For, O, for, O, the hobby-horse is forgot.

Ibid. This is miching mallecho; it means mischief. Ibid.

Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?
Oph. 'Tis brief, my lord.
Ham. As woman's love.



Our wills and fates do so contrary run
That our devices still are overthrown.
The lady doth protest ? too much, methinks.
Let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung.




The story is extant, and writ in choice Italian.

Why, let the stricken deer go weep,

The hart ungalled play;
For some must watch, while some must sleep:

So runs the world away.
'Tis as easy as lying.
It will discourse most eloquent music.




1“ Protests" in Dyce, Singer, and Staunton.

Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2

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Pluck out the heart of my mystery.
Do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ?

Ibid. Ham. Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel ?

Pol. By the mass, and 't is like a camel, indeed.
Ham. Methinks it is like a weasel.
Pol. It is backed like a weasel.
Ham. Or like a whale ?
Pol. Very like a whale.

They fool me to the top of my bent.

By and by is easily said.

Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world.
I will speak daggers to her, but use none.

0, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
A brother's murder.

Like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,


Sc. 3

And both neglect.


'Tis not so above;
There is no shuffling, there the action lies
In his true nature.

O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
Art more engag'd! Help, angels! Make assay !
Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of steel,
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe !
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May.

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About some act
That has no relish of salvation in 't.


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