The tragedy of Hamlet: prince of Denmark (Google eBook)

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D. C. Heath, 1896 - 224 pages
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User Review  - TiffanyAK - LibraryThing

This is truly an amazing work, and is a very well-known story. Even if you haven't read the play, or seen any of the film versions, you probably have heard enough to know much of what happens, and are ... Read full review

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User Review  - maureene87 - LibraryThing

We read this in my AP English Literature class. It is now my hands-down favorite Shakespeare play. Yes, everyone dies at the end. But it is complex, beautiful, full of great lines, and even funny in parts. Highly recommended for more mature readers. Read full review

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Page 72 - For what advancement may I hope from thee, That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits, To feed and clothe thee ? Why should the poor be flatter'd ? No ; let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee Where thrift may follow fawning.
Page 59 - 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.
Page 69 - The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observ'd 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 111 - Dost thou come here to whine ? To outface me with leaping in her grave ? Be buried quick with her, and so will I : And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw Millions of acres on us, till our ground, Singeing his pate against the burning zone, Make Ossa like a wart ! Nay, an thou'lt mouth, I'll rant as well as thou.
Page 109 - Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind 'away: O, that that earth which kept the world in awe Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw! But soft!
Page 93 - What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure, he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unused.
Page 104 - Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, That liberal 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.
Page 67 - The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin?
Page 120 - Horatio, what a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me! If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.
Page 45 - The leperous distilment ; whose effect Holds such an enmity with blood of man That swift as quicksilver it courses through The natural gates and alleys of the body, And with a sudden vigour it doth posset And curd, like eager droppings into milk, The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine; 70 And a most instant tetter bark'd about, Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust, All my smooth body.

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