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Abbess Angelo Antipholis art thou Arthur Benvolio blood brother Buck Capulet Catesby cousin dead dear death didst dost doth Dromio Duke England Enter Ephesus Exeunt Exit Exit English eyes fair farewell father Faul Faulconbridge fear France Friar Friar Lawrence friends gentle Gentlemen Ghost give Glost Gloster Graved grief Guildenstern Hamlet hand hath hear heart Heaven holy honour Horatio Hubert husband Juliet kill'd King John Lady Laer Laertes Lesbia live look lord Lord Stanley madam majesty Mercutio mistress mother ne'er never night Nurse o'er Ophelia Osrick Pandulph peace Phil play Polonius pray Prince Queen Romeo Rosencrantz SCENE sorrow soul speak Stanley sweet sword Syracuse tears tell thee There's thine thou art thou hast Tibalt tongue Tressel Trumpets villain wife wilt word
Page 18 - 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 32 - 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! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me; no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
Page 20 - 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, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
Page 45 - No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee 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...
Page 83 - 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?
Page 13 - I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them...
Page 40 - To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect...
Page 18 - But to my mind, — though I am native here, And to the manner born, — it is a custom More honour'd in the breach than the observance.