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Hamlet-Continued.

Act i. Sc. 4.

But to my mind, — though I am native here,
And to the manner born, it is a custom
More honored in the breach than the observance.

Act i. Sc. 4.

Angels and ministers of grace, defend us!

Thou comest in such a questionable shape,
That I will speak to thee.

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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 on end,
Like quills upon the fretful Porcupine.

Act i. Sc. 5.

O my prophetic soul! my uncle!

Hamlet-Continued.

Act i. Sc. 5.

O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!

Act i. Sc. 5.

No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head.

Act i. Sc. 5.

The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire.

Act i. Sc. 5.

That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain.

Act i. Sc. 5.

There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave, To tell us this.

Act i. Sc. 5.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

Act i. Sc. 5.

The time is out of joint.

Act ii. Sc. 1.

This is the very ecstasy of love.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

Brevity is the soul of wit.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

That he is mad, 't is true; 'tis true, 't is pity;

And pity 'tis, 'tis true.

Hamlet-Continued.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;

Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt I love.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

Still harping on my daughter.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

Though this be madness, yet there's method in it.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason ! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a God!

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Come, give us a taste of your quality.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

'Twas caviare to the general.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba?

Hamlet-Continued.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

The play's the thing,

Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.

Act iii. Sc. 1.

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 sleepand, by a sleep, to say we end

No more;
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to;- 't is a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. 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,

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The spurns

That patient merit of the unworthy takes;

When he himself might his quietus make..?!

Who would fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death
The undiscovered country, from whose bourne
No traveller returns puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of?

Hamlet-Continued.

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.

Nymph, in thy orisons

Be all my sins remembered.

Act iii. Sc. 1.

Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.

Act iii. Sc. 1.

The glass of fashion, and the mould of form,
The observed of all observers !

Act iii. Sc. 1.

Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand thus.

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Suit the action to the word, the word to the action.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

To hold, as 't v

were, the mirror up to nature.

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