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Seite 41 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of ? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
Seite 32 - I have of late — but wherefore I know not — lost all my mirth, forgone 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'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.
Seite 24 - Pale as his shirt ; his knees knocking each other ; And with a look so piteous in purport As if he had been loosed out of hell To speak of horrors, he comes before me.
Seite 72 - Alas, poor Yorick ! I knew him, Horatio : a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy : he hath borne me on his back a thousand times ; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is ! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now ? your gambols ? your songs ? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar...
Seite 53 - Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn, and Hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world : now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on.
Seite 78 - I do not think so ; since he went into France, I have been in continual practice ; I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart : but it is no matter.
Seite 75 - I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers Could not with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum.
Seite 29 - Pol. Not I, my lord. Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man. Pol. Honest, my lord ! Ham. Ay, sir ; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
Seite 42 - Get thee to a nunnery : why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners ? I am myself indifferent honest ; but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me...