Chapter 33
Act iii. Sc. 2.
They fool me to the top of my bent.
Act iii. Sc. 2.
'Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn, and h.e.l.l itself breathes out Contagion to this world.
Act iii. Sc. 3.
O my offence is rank, it smells to heaven
Act iii. Sc. 4.
Look here, upon this picture, and on this; The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
See what a grace was seated on this brow!
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command.
A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every G.o.d did seem to set his seal, To give the world a.s.surance of a man.
Act iii. Sc. 4.
A king Of shreds and patches.
Act iii. Sc. 4.
This is the very coinage of your brain.
Act iii. Sc. 4.
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul.
Act iii. Sc. 4.
a.s.sume a virtue, if you have it not.
Act iii. Sc. 4.
For 'tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petard.
Act iv. Sc. 5.
When sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions!
Act iv. Sc. 5.
There's such divinity doth hedge a king, That treason can but peep to what it would.
Act v. Sc. 1.
How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us.
Act v. Sc. 1.
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest; of most excellent fancy.
Act v. Sc. 1.
Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?
Act v. Sc. 1.
To what base uses we may return, Horatio!
Act v. Sc. 1.
Imperial Caesar, dead, and turned to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
Act v. Sc. 1.
Sir, though I am not splenetive and rash, Yet have I in me something dangerous.
Act v. Sc. 1.
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.
Act v. Sc. 2.
There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.
Act v. Sc. 2.