His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! That it should come to this! Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2. Ibid. Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother, Ibid. My father's brother, but no more like It is not nor it cannot come to good. Ibid. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked meats Or ever I had seen that day. Ibid. In my mind's eye, Horatio. Ibid. He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again. Ibid. Season your admiration for a while. Ibid. In the dead vast and middle of the night. Ibid. Arm'd at point exactly, cap-a-pe.1 Ibid. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. Ibid. 1 "Armed at all points" in Singer and White. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred. Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2. Ham. His beard was grizzled, no? Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve. Ibid. Foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. Ibid. A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, Sc. 3. The chariest maid is prodigal enough, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; Give thy thoughts no tongue. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. 1 And may you better reck the rede, Than ever did the adviser. BURNS: Epistle to a Young Friend. 2 "Hooks" in Singer. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid 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. Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air. 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 damn'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? By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me! Ibid. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. Ibid. I am thy father's spirit, Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Like quills upon the fretful porpentine:" 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. 316 Porcupine" in Singer and Staunton. 4 "Rots itself" in Staunton. My uncle! O my prophetic soul! Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5. Ibid. O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there! Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, No reckoning made, but sent to my account Ibid. Ibid. Leave her to heaven 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! My tables, meet it is I set it down, That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain : Ibid. Ham. There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he's an arrant knave. grave Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the |