Hamlet Quotes - Page 2 | Just Great DataBase

It is not, nor it cannot, come to good, But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.

Where is Polonius? HAMLET In heaven. Send hither to see. If your messenger find him not there, seek him i' th' other place yourself. But if indeed you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby.

A little more than kin, a little less than kind.

Neither a borrower nor a lender be, for loan oft loses both itself and friend, and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm

O, that this too too solid flesh would meltThaw and resolve itself into a dew!Or that the Everlasting had not fix'dHis canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, (135)Seem to me all the uses of this world!Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,That grows to seed; things rank and gross in naturePossess it merely. That it should come to this!But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: (140)So excellent a king; that was, to this,

Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a specialprovidence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now,'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will benow; if it be not now, yet it will come: thereadiness is all.

Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

HAMLET: I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe?GUILDENSTERN: My lord, I cannot.HAMLET: I pray you.GUILDENSTERN: Believe me, I cannot.HAMLET: I do beseech you.GUILDENSTERN: I know no touch of it, my lord.HAMLET: It is as easy as lying. Govern these ventages with our fingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops.GUILDENSTERN: But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony. I have not the skill.HAMLET: Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me, you would seem to know my stops, you would pluck out the heart of my mystery, you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass, and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.

Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.

There is a willow grows aslant the brook that shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; therewith fantastic garlands did she make of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples that the 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 clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke; when down her weedy trophies and herself fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide and, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up; which time she chanted snatches of old lauds, as one incapable of her own distress, or like a creature native and indued unto that element; but long it could not be till that her garments, heavy with their drink, pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay to muddy death.

We are oft to blame in this, -'tis too much proved, - that with devotion's visage,and pios action we do sugar o'erthe devil himself.

Tis in my memory lock'd,And you yourself shall keep the key of it.

POLONIUS: What do you read, my lord?HAMLET: Words, words, words.

Seems, madam, Nay, it is. I know not 'seems.' 
This not alone my inky cloak, good mother.

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.

[I] must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words.

Thou know'st 'tis common; all that livesmust die,Passing through nature to eternity.

A knavish speech sleeps in a fool's ear.

Give thy thoughts no tongue.

He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again.

therein lies the rub

More matter with less art.

Heaven and earth,Must I remember?
Why, she would hang on him 
As if increase of appetite had grown 
By what it fed on, and yet, within a month
— Let me not think on't
—Frailty, thy name is woman!

Hamlet: Lady, shall I lie in your lap? Ophelia: No, my lord. Hamlet: DId you think I meant country matters? Ophelia: I think nothing, my lord. Hamlet: That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs. Ophelia: What is, my lord? Hamlet: Nothing.

Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,And therefore I forbid my tears.

Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,Himself the primrose path of dalliance treadsAnd recks not his own read.

death,The undiscovere'd country, from whose bournNo traveller returns,

This is the very ecstasy of love, whose violent property ordoes itself and leads the will to desperate undertakings.

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? Man delights not me; no, nor Woman neither; though by your smiling you seem to say so.

How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

It puzzles the will.

If your mind dislike anything obey it

Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play thefool no where but in's own house.

As merry as the day is long.

There is method in my madness.

For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.

Refrain to-night;And that shall lend a kind of easinessTo the next abstinence, the next more easy;For use almost can change the stamp of nature,And either master the devil or throw him outWith wondrous potency.

Blest are thoseWhose blood and judgment are so well commingled,That they are not a pipe for fortune's fingerTo sound what stop she please.

Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;But do not dull thy palm with entertainmentOf each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade.

When Rosencrantz asks Hamlet, "Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do surely bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your grief to your friends"(III, ii, 844-846), Hamlet responds, "Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me." (III,ii, 371-380)

Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat, Of habits devil, is angel yet in this, That to the use of actions fair and good He likewise gives a frock or livery That aptly is put on. Refrain tonight, And that shall lend a kind of easiness To the next abstinence; the next more easy; For use almost can change the stamp of nature.

Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

If it be now, ’tis not to come. If it be not to come, it will be now. If it be not now, yet it will come—the readiness is all.

Too much of water hast thou poor Ophelia, and therefore I forbid my tears.But yet it is our trick, let shame say what it will. when these are gone the women will be out!Adieu my lord, I have a speech of fire that fane would blaze, But that this folly doubts it.

Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was the very day that young Hamlet was born, he that is mad and sent into England.""Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?""Why, because he was mad. He shall recover his wits there, or, if he do not, it's no great matter there.""Why?""'Twill not be seen in him there. There the men are as mad as he.

I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; 
God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another:
you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, 
and make your wantonness your ignorance. 
Go to, I'll no more don't; it hath made me mad.

I'm sick in the heart.

O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell 
and count myself a king of infinite space, 
were it not that I have bad dreams.