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, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand an end, 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. "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, Ibid. No reckoning made, but sent to my account 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. 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 To tell us this. Every man has business and desire, Such as it is. Ibid. 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, Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! The time is out of joint: O cursed spite, The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind, This is the very ecstasy of love. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid Act ii. Sc. 1. Ibid. Brevity is the soul of wit.1 Sc. 2. More matter, with less art. Ibid. That he is mad, 't is true: 't is true 't is pity; Ibid. Find out the cause of this effect, Or rather say, the cause of this defect, For this effect defective comes by cause. Ibid Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love. Ibid. To be honest as this world goes, is to be one man Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't. Ibid. On fortune's cap we are not the very button. Ibid. 1 A short saying oft contains much wisdom.-SOPHOCLES: Aletes, frag. 99 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! Man delights not me: no, nor woman neither. Ibid. 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. 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? What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? Ibid Ibid. 1 Unpack my heart with words, And fall a-cursing, like a very drab. Hamlet. Act ü. Sc. 2. For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With devotion's visage And pious action we do sugar o'er Ibid. Act iii. Sc. 1. To be, or not to be: that is the question: The heartache and the thousand natural shocks - To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub: That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 1 See Chaucer, page 5. |