Hamlet, Or, Shakespeare's Philosophy of History: A Study of the Spiritual Soul and Unity of Hamlet

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Williams and Norgate, 1875 - 208 oldal

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61. oldal - I have of late, — but wherefore I know not, — lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile 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 but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
23. oldal - Doubt thou the stars are fire ; Doubt that the sun doth move ; Doubt truth to be a liar ; But never doubt I love.
129. oldal - To what base uses we may return, Horatio ! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole?
38. oldal - 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 flatter'd? No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee Where thrift may follow fawning.
130. oldal - Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting-, That would not let me sleep...
74. oldal - Ham. Do you see yonder cloud, that's almost in shape of a camel ? Pol. By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed. Ham. Methinks, it is like a weasel. Pol. It is backed like a weasel. Ham. Or, like a whale? Pol. Very like a whale.
129. oldal - No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: as thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam whereto he was converted might they not stop a beer-barrel? Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
163. oldal - And let me speak to the yet unknowing world How these things came about : so shall you hear Of carnal, bloody and unnatural acts, Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters, Of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause, And, in this upshot, purposes mistook Fall'n on the inventors' heads : all this can I Truly deliver.
77. oldal - Not where he eats, but where he is eaten : a certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet : we fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots...
28. oldal - Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god, kissing carrion, Have you a daughter ? Pol. I have, my lord. Ham. Let her not walk i' the sun : conception is a blessing; but as your daughter may conceive, — friend, look to 't.

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