Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel:
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel: but, being in,
Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,

But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy:
For the apparel oft proclaims the man:

And they in France, of the best rank and station,
Are most select and generous, chief in that.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be:
For loan oft loses both itself and friend;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all,-To thine own self be true:
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou can'st not then be false to any man.
Farewell: my blessing season this in thee!-Sc. 3.

Hamlet. The king doth wake to-night, and takes his rouse,
Keeps wassel, and the swaggering up-spring reels:
And as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,

The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out

The triumph of his pledge.

Horatio.

Hamlet. Ay, marry, is't:

Is it a custom ?

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.

Marcellus. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.Sc. 4.

Ghost. O! Hamlet, what a falling-off was there,

From me, whose love was of that dignity,

That it went hand in hand even with the vow

I made to her in marriage; and to decline
Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor
To those of mine!

But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,

Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven;
So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,
Will sate itself in a celestial bed,

And prey on garbage.

Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand,
Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despatch'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:
But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act,
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
Against thy mother aught; leave her to heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!
The glowworm shows the matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire;

Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me.-(Exit).-Sc. 5.
Hamlet. There are more things in heaven and earth,
Horatio,

Than is dreamt of in your philosophy.-Id.
Polonius. It seems, it is as proper to our age

To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions,
As it is common for the younger sort
To lack discretion.-Act 2, Sc. 1.

Polonius. My liege and madam, to expostulate
What majesty should be, what duty is,

Why day is day, night, night, and time is time,
Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time.
Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,-
I will be brief: Your noble son is mad:
Mad call I it: for, to define true madness,
What is't, but to be nothing else but mad:
But let that go.

Queen.

More matter, with less art. Polonius. Madam, I swear, I use no art at all. That he is mad 'tis true: 'tis true, 'tis pity;

And pity 'tis, 'tis true.... --Sc. 2.

Polonius. What do you read, my lord ?

Hamlet. Words, words, words!

Polonius. What is the matter, my lord?

Hamlet. Between who?

Polonius. I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.

Hamlet. Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here, that old men have grey beards: that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber, and plum-tree gum; and that

they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams: All of which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down; for yourself, sir, should be as old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward.

Polonius. Though this be madness, yet there's method in it. (Aside). Will you walk out of the air, my lord?

Hamlet. Into my grave?

Polonius. Indeed, that is out of the air.-How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of.-Id.

Hamlet. I have of late (but, wherefore, I know not), lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercise: and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a steril 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.-Id.

Hamlet. What a piece of work is a 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 ?—Id. Hamlet. I am but mad north-north-west; when the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.-Id.

Hamlet. Is it not monstrous that this player here,

But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,

Could force his soul so to his own conceit,

That from her working, all his visage wann'd;
Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,

A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
With forms to his conceit ? And all for nothing!
For Hecuba!

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,

That he should weep for her ?-Id.

Hamlet. To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune;
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And, by opposing, end them ?-To die,-to sleep,-
No more; and, by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ach, and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to,-'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. 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,
That makes calamity of so long life:

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd 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 ? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life;
But that the dread of something after death,-
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns-puzzles the will;
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.-Act 3, Sc: 1.

Ophelia. O! what a noble mind is here o'erthrown;
The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, sword:
The expectancy and rose of the fair state,

The glass of fashion, and the mould of form,

The observ'd of all observers!—Id.

Hamlet. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, tripplingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus; but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance, that may give it smoothness. O it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings: who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows, and noise: I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it out-herod's Herod : Pray you avoid it. . . Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your

tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the action: with this special observance, that you o'er-step not the modesty of nature for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at first and now, was, and is, to hold, as 't were, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time, his form and pressure. Now this, overdone, or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of which one, must, in your allowance, o'erweigh a whole theatre of others.-Sc. 2. Hamlet. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man As e'er my conversation cop'd withal.

Horatio. O! my dear lord,

Hamlet.

Nay, do not think I flatter:

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 flattered? 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,

She hath seal'd thee for herself: for thou hast been

As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing;

A man, that fortune's buffets and rewards

Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and bless'd are those,
Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled,
That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger
To sound what stop she please. Give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,

As I do thee.-Id.

Hamlet. Let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung.

-Id.

King. In the corrupted currents of this world,

Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice;

And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law. But 'tis not so above:
There is no shuffling, there the action lies
In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence.-Sc. 3.

Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tongue In noise so rude against me?