Hamlet-Continued. Act i. Sc. 4. But to my mind, — though I am native here, Act i. Sc. 4. Angels and ministers of grace, defend us! Thou comest in such a questionable shape, I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood; And each particular hair to stand on end, 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 Act i. Sc. 5. The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, 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 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! 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 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, Hamlet-Continued. Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, 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, Act iii. Sc. 1. Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Act iii. Sc. 2. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand thus. 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. |