The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark

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D. C. Heath & Company, publishers, 1917 - Denmark - 262 pages

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Contents

I
II
xv
III
28
IV
55
V
88
VI
114
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Page 5 - Why, she would hang on him As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on; and yet, within a month Let me not think on't!
Page 17 - What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous; and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
Page 3 - Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, moods, shows of grief, That can denote me truly : these, indeed, seem, For they are actions that a man might play ; But I have that within, which passeth show, These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
Page 52 - Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave, That I, the son of a dear father murder'd, Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words, And fall a-cursing, like a very drab, A scullion!
Page 189 - And he answered and said unto them, I tell you that, if these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out.
Page 58 - The expectancy and rose of the fair state, ieo The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observed of all observers, quite, quite down! And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, That suck'd the honey of his music vows, Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh...
Page 44 - Ham. I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.
Page 10 - Think it no more : For nature, crescent, does not grow alone In thews and bulk; but, as this temple waxes, The inward service of the mind and soul Grows wide withal.
Page 90 - Not where he eats, but where he is eaten : a certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet : we fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots : your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service, — two dishes, but to one table: that 's the end.
Page 21 - And a most instant tetter bark'd about, Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust, All my smooth body. Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand, Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd; Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd, No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head: O, horrible!

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