Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark: With Introductory Remarks; Explanatory, Grammatical, and Philological Notes

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Pagina 74 - Excellent well; you are a fishmonger. 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.
Pagina 130 - tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now ; if it be not now, yet it will come : the readiness is all : Since no man, of aught he leaves, knows, what is't to leave betimes ?
Pagina 123 - No, faith, not a jot ; but to follow him thither with modesty . enough, and likelihood to lead it : as thus : Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust ; the dust is earth ; of earth we make loam ; and why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel...
Pagina 134 - And let me speak to the yet unknowing world How these things came about : so shall you hear Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts, Of accidental judgments, •casual slaughters, Of deaths put on by cunning and forc'd cause, And, in this upshot, purposes mistook Fall'n on the inventors' heads: all this can I Truly deliver.
Pagina 75 - 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.
Pagina 86 - Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice, And could of men distinguish, her election Hath seal'd thee for herself...
Pagina 75 - O God, I could be bounded in a nut-shell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.
Pagina 79 - A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward? Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat, As deep as to the lungs?
Pagina 51 - Seems, madam ! nay, it is ; I know not 'seems.' 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief, That can denote me truly...
Pagina 64 - Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive Against thy mother aught; leave her to heaven, And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge To prick and sting her.

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