DUKE SENIOR: And this our life exempt from
public haunt
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones and good in every thing.
As You Like It, II, i
ORLANDO: Thou art not for the fashion of these
times,
Where none will sweat but for promotion.
As You Like It, II, iii
TOUCHSTONE: Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I. When I was at home I was in a better place, but travellers must be content.
As You Like It, II, iv
JAQUES: I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs.
As You Like It, II, v
DUKE SENIOR: If he, compact of jars, grow
musical,
We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.
As You Like It, II, vii
JAQUES: And then he drew a dial from his
poke,
And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock:
Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags.'
As You Like It, II, vii
JAQUES: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was
nine,
And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot.
As You Like It, II, vii
JAQUES: And thereby hangs a tale.
As You Like It, II, vii
DUKE SENIOR: True is it that we have seen better days.
As You Like It, II, vii
JAQUES: And in his brain,
Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
After a voyage, he hath strange places crammed
With observation, the which he vents
In mangled forms.
As You Like It, II, vii
JAQUES: All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.
As You Like It, II, vii
JAQUES: At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
As You Like It, II, vii
JAQUES: And then the whining school-boy, with
his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.
As You Like It, II, vii
JAQUES: Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth.
As You Like It, II, vii
JAQUES: The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound.
As You Like It, II, vii
JAQUES: Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
As You Like It, II, vii
CORIN: No more but that I know the more one sickens the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, means and content is without three good friends; that the property of rain is to wet and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred.
As You Like It, III, ii
TOUCHSTONE: When a man's verses cannot be understood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward child Understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room.
As You Like It, III, iii
ROSALIND: 'Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favour'd children.
As You Like It, III, v
JAQUES: Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.
ROSALIND: Why then, 'tis good to be a post.
As You Like It, IV, i
JAQUES: I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation, nor the musician's, which is fantastical, nor the courtier's, which is proud, nor the soldier's, which is ambitious, nor the lawyer's, which is politic, nor the lady's, which is nice, nor the lover's, which is all these; but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness.
As You Like It, IV, i
ROSALIND: A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad. I fear you have sold your own lands to see other men's.
As You Like It, IV, i
ROSALIND: Am not I your Rosalind?
As You Like It, IV, i
ORLANDO: For ever and a day.
As You Like It, IV, i
ROSALIND: I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyena, and that when thou art inclined to sleep.
As You Like It, IV, i
TOUCHSTONE: Your If is the only peacemaker; much virtue in If.
As You Like It, V, iv
BERNARDO: Have you had quiet guard?
FRANCISCO: Not a mouse stirring.
Hamlet, I, i
HORATIO: But soft, behold! lo, where it comes
again!
I'll cross it, though it blast me. Stay, illusion!
Hamlet, I, i
HORATIO: If there be any good thing to be
done,
That may to thee do ease and grace to me,
Speak to me!
Hamlet, I, i
MARCELLUS: Some say that ever 'gainst that
season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
This bird of dawning singeth all night long:
And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
Hamlet, I, i
CLAUDIUS: The head is not more native to the
heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.
Hamlet, I, ii
HAMLET: A little more than kin, and less than kind.
Hamlet, I, ii
GERTRUDE: Do not forever with thy vailed
lids
Seek for thy noble father in the dust.
Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die,
Passing through nature to eternity.
Hamlet, I, ii
HAMLET: Ay, madam, it is common.
Hamlet, I, ii
HAMLET: O, that this too too solid flesh would
melt
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable,
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 nature
Possess it merely.
Hamlet, I, ii
HAMLET: That it should come to this!
But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two:
So excellent a king; that was, to this,
Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly.
Hamlet, I, ii
HAMLET: Let me not think on't -- Frailty, thy name is woman!
Hamlet, I, ii
HAMLET: My father! -- methinks I see my father.
HORATIO: Where, my lord?
HAMLET: In my mind's eye, Horatio.
Hamlet, I, ii
HORATIO: I saw him once; he was a goodly king.
HAMLET: He was a man. Take him for all in
all,
I shall not look upon his like again.
Hamlet, I, ii
HAMLET: Foul deeds will rise,
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.
Hamlet, I, ii
LAERTES: Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear
sister,
And keep you in the rear of your affection,
Out of the shot and danger of desire.
Hamlet, I, iii
POLONIUS: Costly thy habit as thy purse can
buy,
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
Hamlet, I, iii
POLONIUS: Neither a borrower nor a lender
be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
Hamlet, I, iii
POLONIUS: This above all: to thine ownself be
true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Hamlet, I, iii
HAMLET: 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.
Hamlet, I, iv
HAMLET: Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
Hamlet, I, iv
HAMLET: Thou comest in such a questionable
shape
That I will speak to thee.
Hamlet, I, iv
MARCELLUS: Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
Hamlet, I, iv
GHOST: But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
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 porpentine.
Hamlet, I, v
GHOST: Murder most foul, as in the best it
is;
But this most foul, strange and unnatural.
Hamlet, I, v
HAMLET: O my prophetic soul!
Hamlet, I, v
HAMLET: Remember thee!
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records.
Hamlet, I, v
HAMLET: There are more things in heaven and
earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
Hamlet, I, v
HAMLET: The time is out of joint: O cursed
spite,
That ever I was born to set it right!
Hamlet, I, v
POLONIUS: And thus do we of wisdom and of
reach,
With windlasses and with assays of bias,
By indirections find directions out.
Hamlet, II, i
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.
Hamlet, II, ii
POLONIUS: Therefore, since brevity is the soul
of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
I will be brief: your noble son is mad.
Hamlet, II, ii
GERTRUDE: More matter, with less art.
Hamlet, II, ii
POLONIUS: That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true
'tis pity;
And pity 'tis 'tis true.
Hamlet, II, ii
HAMLET: O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art to reckon my groans.
Hamlet, II, ii
POLONIUS: If circumstances lead me, I will
find
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
Within the centre.
Hamlet, II, ii