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The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon.

Act i. Sc. 3.

And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
Contagious blastments are most imminent. Act i. Sc. 3.

Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven ;
Whilst, like a puffed and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own rede.

Act i. Sc. 3.

Give thy thoughts no tongue.

Act i. Sc. 3.

Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel.

Act i. Sc. 3.

Beware Of entrance to a quarrel : but, being in, Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice : Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.

Act i. Sc. 3. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy ; For the apparel oft proclaims the man.

Act i. Sc. 3.

Neither a borrower nor a lender be,
For loan oft loses both itself and friend;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all, --To thine ownself be true ;

And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Act i. Sc. 3.

Springes to catch woodcocks.*

Act i. Sc. 3.

But to my mind,-though I am native here,
And to the manner born,-it is a custom
More honoured in the breach, than the observance.

Act i. Sc. 4. Angels and ministers of grace, defend us !

Acti. Si. 4.

Thou comest in such a questionable shape,
That I will speak to thee.

Act i. Sc. 4.

Let me not burst in ignorance !

Act i. Sc. 4.

In complete steel Revisitst thus the glimpses of the moon Making night hideous.

Act i. Sc. 4.

I do not set my life at a pin's fee.

Act i. Sc. 4.

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

Act i. Sc. 4. But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood ; Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres ; Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end,

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* A proverbial phrase.

Like quills upon the fretful porcupine :
But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of Aesh and blood. List, list, O list !

Act i. Sc. 5.

And duller should'st thou be than the fat weed
That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf. Act i. Sc. 5.

O my prophetic soul! mine uncle !

Act i. Sc. 5.

O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there !

Act i. Sc. 5.

But soft ! methinks I scent the morning air ;
Brief let me be : Sleeping within mine orchard,
My custom always in the afternoon.

Act i. Sc. 5.

Unhouseled, disappointed, unaneled,
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head.

Act i. Sc. 5.

Leave her to heaven
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To prick and sting her.

Act i. Sc. 5.

The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire. Act i. Sc. 5.

While memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe. Remember thee?
Yea, from the table of my memory,
I'll wipe away all trivial, fond records.

Act i. Sc. 5.

Within the book and volume of my brain. Act i. Sc. 5.

My tables, my tables,-meet it is, I set it down,
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.

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That he is mad 't is true ; 't is true, 't is pity ;
And pity 't is, 't is true.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

Doubt thou the stars are fire ;

Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar ;

But never doubt I love. Act ü. Sc. 2.

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Though this be madness, yet there's method in it.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

On fortune's cap we are not the very button.

Act i. Sc. 2.

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. 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 !

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Act ii. Sc. 2.

Man delights not me,-no, nor woman neither.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

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They are the abstracts and brief chronicles of the time.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

Use every man after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weep for her ?

Act ü. Sc. 2.

The devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

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