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It faded on the crowing of the cock.
Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 1.
Sc. 2. With an auspicious and a dropping eye, 3 With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage, In equal scale weighing delight and dole.
Ibid. The head is not more native to the heart.
Ibid. A little more than kin, and less than kind.
Ibid. All that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity.
Ibid. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not "seems." ”T is not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black. But I have that within which passeth show; These but the trappings and the suits of woe. Ibid.
'Tis a fault to Heaven, A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, To reason most absurd.
Ibida O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
1 “Can walk" in White. 2 “ Eastern hill” in Dyce, Singer, Staunton, and White. 8 “One auspicious and one dropping eye” in Dyce, Singer, and Staunton
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God !
Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2. That it should come to this !
Ibid. Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother, That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly.
Ibid. Why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on.
Ibid. Frailty, thy name is woman! A little month.
Ibid. Like Niobe, all tears.
Ibid. A beast, that wants discourse of reason.
Ibid. My father's brother, but no more like my father Than I to Hercules.
Ibid. It is not nor it cannot come to good.
Ibid. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven Or ever I had seen that day.
Ibid. In my mind's eye, Horatio. 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. Armd at point exactly, cap-a-pe.
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, A sable silver'd.
Ibid. Let it be tenable in your silence still.
Ibidh Give it an understanding, but no tongue.
Ibid. Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve. Ibid.
Foul deeds will rise,
Sc. 3. The chariest maid is prodigal enough, If she unmask her beauty to the moon: Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes : The canker galls the infants of the spring Too oft before their buttons be disclosed, And in the morn and liquid dew of youth Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Ibid. Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; Whiles, like a puff’d and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, And recks not his own rede.
Ibid. Give thy thoughts no tongue.
Ibid. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops 2 of steel. Ibid
1 And may you better reck the rede,
Burns : Epistle to a Young Friend.
Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 3.
Ibid. Springes to catch woodcocks.
Ibid. When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul Lends the tongue vows.
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 : 0, answer me! Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death, Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre, Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd,
Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws
Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 4 I do not set my life at a pin's fee.
Ibid. My fate cries out, And makes each petty' artery in this body As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.
Unhand me, gentlemen. · 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, And for the day confin’d to fast in fires, 2 Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, 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, Like quills upon the fretful porpentine : 3 But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, 0, list! Sc. 5 And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed That roots itself 4 in ease on Lethe wharf.
1 And makes night hideous. — POPE: The Dunciad, book iii. line 166. 2 “To lasting fires” in Singer. 8 “Porcupine" in Singer and Staunton. 4 "Rots itself” in Staunton.