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The serpent that did sting thy father's life
HAMLET. O, my prophetic soul! my uncle!
The Ghost's Description of the Murder.
But soft! methinks I scent the morning air;
Most lazart like, with vile and loathsome crust,
Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand,
Approach of Dawn.
The glow-worm shews the matin to be near,
§ Deprived. || Without having received the sacrament.
Without extreme unction.
Beshrew my jealousy!
It seems, it is as proper to our age
To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions,
Reflections on Man.
I have of late (but wherefore I know not) lost all my mirth, foregone all custom of exercises: and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory: this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'er-hanging 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 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! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me,- -nor
woman neither; though, by your smiling, you seem to
Hamlet's Reflections on the Player.
O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I !
Could force his soul thus to his own conceit,
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weep for her? What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion
That I have? He would drown the stage with tears,
A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,
A damn'd defeat* was made. Am I a coward ?
gives me the lie i' the throat,
Why, I should take it; for it cannot be,
Effect of a Play on the Mind.
I have heard
That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,
Have by the very cunning of the scene
* Alluding to his father's murder and the usurpation of the crown by his uncle,
Been struck so to the soul, that presently
I'll tent him to the
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
I'll have grounds
(As he is very potent with such spirits)
The play's the thing
Hamlet's Soliloquy on Life and Death.
To be, or not to be, that is the question :—
And, by opposing, end them?-To die,-to sleep,-
Devoutly to be wish'd.
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,‡
Must give us pause; there's the respect §
+ Particularly note if he betrays his guilt. Confusion. § Reason.
That makes calamity of so long life:
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
who would fardels§ bear,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.
A Disordered Mind.
O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword, The expectancy and rose of the fair state,
The glass of fashion, and the mould ¶ of form,
A dagger was in our author's time sometimes called a bodkin.
The model by which others might frame themselves.