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Sure, he, that made us with such large discourse*,
Looking before, and after, gave us not
That capability and godlike reason
To fustt in us unus'd. Now, whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on the event. [dom,
A thought, which, quarter'd, hath but one part wis-
And, ever, three parts coward.—I do not know
Why yet I live to say, This thing's to do ; [means,
Sithg I have cause, and will, and strength, and
To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me:
Witness, this army of such mass, and charge,
Led by a delicate and tender prince ;
Whose spirit, with divine ambition puffd,
Makes mouths at the invisible event;
Exposing what is mortal and unsure,
To all that fortune, death, and danger, dare,
Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great,
Is, not to stir without great argument;
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw,
When honour's at the stake. How stand I then,
That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
Excitements of my reason and my blood,
And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see
The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
That, for a fantasy, and trick of fame,
Go to their graves like beds; fight for a plot
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
Which is not tomb enough, and continent
To hide the slain?-0, from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!


O Gertrude, Gertrude, * Power of comprehension.


of Grow mouldy.

$ Since.

When sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions!


Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person; There's such divinity doth hedge a king, That treason can but peep to what it would, Acts little of his will.

DESCRIPTION OF OPHELIA'S DEATH. Queen. There is a willow grows ascaunt the brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; Therewith fantastic garlands did she make Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples", That liberalt shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them: There on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; When down her weedy trophies, and herself, Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide; And, mermaid-like, a while they bore her up; Which time, she chanted snatches of old tunes; As one incapable of her own distress, Or, like a creature native and indu'd Unto that element: but long it could not be, Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, Pulld the poor wretch from her melodious lay To muddy death.

ACT V. HAMLET'S REFLECTIONS ON YORICK'S SCULL. Grave-digger. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! he poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head Orchis morio mas.

+ Licentious. Insensible.


This same scull, sir, was Yorick's scull, the king's jester. Ham. This?

[Takes the Scull. Grave-digger. E'en that. Ham. Alas!


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. gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour* she must come; make her laugh at that.

Where be your


Lay her i' the earth ;And from her fair and unpolluted flesh, May violets spring!—I tell thee, churlish priest, A ministering angel shall my sister be, When thou liest howling.


This is mere madness:
And thus a while the fit will work on him:
Anon, as patient as the female dove,
When that her golden couplets are disclos'dt.
His silence will sit drooping.

PROVIDENCE DIRECTS OUR ACTIONS. And that should teach us,

* Countenance, complexion. + Hatched.

There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will.


Give me the

cups; And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, The trumpet to the cannoneer without, The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth, Now the king drinks to Hamlet.


ACT 1.


What is it that you would impart to me?
If it be aught toward the general good,
Set honour in one eye, and death i' the other,
And I will look on both indifferently :
For, let the gods so speed me, as I love
The name of honour more than I fear death.


I was born free as Cæsar; so were you:
We both have fed as well; and we can both
Endure the winter's cold, as well as he.
For once, upon a raw and gusty* day,
The troubled 'Tyber chafing with her shores,
Cæsar said to me, Dar'st thou, Cassius, non
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And swim to yonder point? Upon the word,
Accouter'd as I was, I plunged in,
And bade him follow; so, indeed, he did.

* Windy.

The torrent roar'd; and we did baffet it
With lusty sinews; throwing it aside
And stemming it with hearts of controversy.
But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,
Cæsar cry'd, Help me, Cassius, or I sink.
I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,
Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of Tyber
Did I the tired Cæsar: And this man
Is now become a god; and Cassius is
A wretched creature, and must bend his body,
If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him.
He had a fever when he was in Spain,
And, when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake; 'tis true, this god did shake:
His coward lips did from their colour fly;
And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world,
Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan:
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,
Alas! it cried, Give me some drink, Titinius,
As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of such a feeble temper* should
So get the start of the majestic world,
And bear the palm alone. Shout. Flourish.

Bru. Another general shout!
I do believe, that these applauses are
For some new honours that are heap'd on Cæsar.

Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow Like a Colossus: and we petty men world Walk under his huge legs, and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves. Men at some time are masters of their fates : The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

* Temperament, constitution.

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