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O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!

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,
That ever I was born to set it right!

The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind,
A savageness in unreclaimed blood.

This is the very ecstasy of love.
Brevity is the soul of wit.1

Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5.

More matter, with less art.

That he is mad, 't is true: 't is true 't is pity;
And pity 't is 't is true.

Find out the cause of this effect, Or rather say, the cause of this defect, For this effect defective comes by cause.

Doubt thou the stars are fire;

Doubt that the sun doth move;

Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt I love.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Act ii. Sc. 1.

Ibid.

Sc. 2.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

To be honest as this world goes, is to be a man picked out of ten thousand.

Ibid.

Still harping on my daughter.

Pol. What do you read, my lord?
Ham. Words, words, words.

They have a plentiful lack of wit.

Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't.
On fortune's cap we are not the very button.

A short saying oft contains much wisdom.-SOPHOCLES: Aletes, frag. 99.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.

Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2.

A dream itself is but a shadow.

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.

Ibid.

I know a hawk from a handsaw.

Ibid.

O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou!

Ibid.

One fair daughter and no more,

The which he loved passing well.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Come, give us a taste of your quality.

Ibid.

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?

Ibid.

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weep for her?

Ibid.

Unpack my heart with words, And fall a-cursing, like a very drab.

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ.1

The devil hath power
To assume a pleasing shape.
Abuses me to damn me.

Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2.

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.

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.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Act iii. Sc. 1.

Ibid.

With a bare bodkin? who would fardels1 bear,
To grunt and sweat under a 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.

Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
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.

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

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

Ibid.

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

Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.
Oh, woe is me,
To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!

Ibid.

1 "Who would these fardels" in White.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

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.

Ibid.

To hold, as 't were, the mirror up 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.

Ibid.

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 abominably.

Ibid.

First Play. We have reformed that indifferently with us, sir.

Ham. Oh, 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.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

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