My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

Dead, for a ducat, dead!

Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 3

Sc. 4.

And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,
If it be made of penetrable stuff.

Ibid.

That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?

Look here, upon this picture, and on this,
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
See, what a grace was seated on this brow:
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
A station like the herald Mercury
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill,
A combination and a form indeed,
Where every god did seem to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a man.

At your age

Ibid.

Ibid.

The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble.

Ibid.

O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,

If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,

To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,

And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame

When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
Since frost itself as actively doth burn,

And reason panders will.

Ibid

A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,

That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
And put it in his pocket!

Ibid

A king of shreds and patches.

Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.

Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4.

ibid.

Bring me to the test,

Ibid.

Ibid.

And I the matter will re-word; which madness
Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul.

Confess yourself to heaven;

Repent what's past; avoid what is to come.

Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat,
Of habits devil, is angel yet in this.

Refrain to-night,

And that shall lend a kind of easiness

To the next abstinence: the next more easy;
For use almost can change the stamp of nature.

I must be cruel, only to be kind:

Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.

For 't is the sport to have the enginer

Hoist with his own petar.

Ibid.

Ibid

Ibid

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Act iv. Sc. 3.

Or not at all.1

A man

may

fish with the worm that hath eat of a king,

and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.

Ibid.

1 Extreme remedies are very appropriate for extreme diseases. — HIPPOCRATES: Aphorism i.

Sure, he that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not

That capability and godlike reason

To fust in us unused.

Rightly to be great

Is not to stir without great argument,
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
When honour's at the stake.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt,

Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 4.

Ibid.

It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

Sc. 5.

We know what we are, but know not what we may be.

Ibid.

To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,

All in the morning betime.

Ibid.

Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes.

Ibid.

Come, my coach! Good night, sweet ladies; good night.

When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions.

There's such divinity doth hedge a king,
That treason can but peep to what it would.

Nature is fine in love, and where 't is fine,
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; there is pansies, that's for thoughts.

Ibid.

Ibid

Ibid.

Ibid.

and

Ibid

You must wear your rue with a difference. There's a daisy; I would give you some violets, but they withered.

His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll.

Ibid.

Ibid.

A

Nature her custom holds,

Let shame say what it will.

Hamlet. Act iv. Sc. 7.

Ibid.

1 Clo. Argal, he that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life.

2 Clo. But is this law?

1 Clo. Ay, marry, is 't; crowner's quest law.

There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners.
Cudgel thy brains no more about it.

Has this fellow no feeling of his business?

Act v. Sc. 1.

Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.

Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures,

and his tricks?

Ibid.

One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's

dead.

Ibid.

How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the or equivocation will undo us.

card, or

The

Ibid,

age is grown so picked that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe.

1 Thus woe succeeds a woe, as wave a wave. —

Succeed.

Ibid.

· HERRICK: Sorrows

Woes cluster; rare are solitary woes;
They love a train, they tread each other's heel.

YOUNG: Night Thoughts, night iii. line 63.
And woe succeeds to woe. - POPE: The Iliad, book xvi. line 139.

Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now; your gambols, your songs ? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? Quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come. Hamlet. Act v. Sc. 1.

To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till we find it stopping a bung-hole?

Ibid.

'T were to consider too curiously, to consider so.

Ibid.

Imperious Cæsar, dead and turn'd to clay,

Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.

Ibid.

I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,
And not have strew'd thy grave.

Ibid.

Though I am not splenitive and rash, Yet have I something in me dangerous.

Ibid.

Forty thousand brothers

Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Make up my sum.

1 And from his ashes may be made
The violet of his native land.

TENNYSON: In Memoriam, xviii.

2 A ministering angel thou. — SCOTT: Marmion, canto vi. st. 30.

Ibid.