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THE DIVINITY OF KINGS.
Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person;
HAMLET'S IRRESOLUTION. How all occasions do inform against me, And spur my dull revenge! 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 with such large discourset, Looking before, and after, gave us not That capability and godlike reason To fustf in us unus'd. Now, whether it be Bestial oblivion, or some craven g scruple Of thinking too precisely on the event, A thought, which, quarter’d, hath butone part wisdom, And, ever, three parts coward, I do not know Why yet I live to say, This thing's to do ; Sith || I have cause, and will, and strength, and means, 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 puff'd, 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 is at stake. How stand I then, That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd, Excitements of my reason, and my blood,
+ Power of comprehension.
Cowardly. | Since.
And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see
DESCRIPTION OF OPHELIA'S DEATH.
Queen. There is a willow grows ascaunt the brook,
Orchis morto mas. #losensible.
1 Clown. What is he, that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?
2 Clown. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.
1 Clown. I like thy wit well, in good faith; the gallows does well: But how does it well? it does well to those that do ill: now thou dost ill, to say, the gallows is built stronger than the church; argal, the gallows may do well to thee: To't again; come cudgel thy brains no more about it; for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating: and, when you are asked this question next, say, a grave-maker; the houses that he makes last till doomsday.
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 once. This same scull, sir, was Yorick's scull, the king's jester. Ham. This ?
[Takes the Scull. Grave-digger. E'en that.
Ham. Alas! poor 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. Where be your 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.
Lay her i' the earth;
This is mere madness:
And that should teach us,
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. * Countenancc, complexion.
CONTEMPT OF CASSIUS FOR CÆSAR.
I was born free as Cæsar; so were you :