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Strana 15 - 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...
Strana 216 - Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
Strana 242 - In following him, I follow but myself; Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, But seeming so, for my peculiar end : For when my outward action doth demonstrate The native act and figure of my heart In compliment extern, 'tis not long after But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at : I am not what I am.
Strana 149 - I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.
Strana 170 - 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.
Strana 53 - I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be the devil: and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, — As he is very potent with such spirits, — Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds More relative than this. — the play's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Strana 160 - HAMLET Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel ? POLONIUS By the mass and 'tis like a camel indeed HAMLET Methinks it is like a weasel POLONIUS It is backed like a weasel HAMLET Or like a whale ? POLONIUS Very like a whale...
Strana 45 - At gaming, swearing ; or about some act That has no relish of salvation in't ; — • Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven ; And that his soul may be as damn'd and black As hell, whereto it goes.
Strana 213 - To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart, To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold...
Strana 108 - And my poor fool is hang'd ! No, no, no life ! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all ? Thou 'It come no more, Never, never, never, never, never ! Pray you, undo this button : thank you, sir. Do you see this ? Look on her, look, her lips, Look there, look there ! [Dies.