* * * *

My father's brother; but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules.

Act i. Sc. 2.

Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked meats
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.

Act i. Sc. 2.

In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Act i. Sc. 2.

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

Act i. Sc. 2.

A countenance more
In sorrow than in anger.

Act i. Sc. 3.

And in the morn and liquid dew of youth.

Act i. Sc. 3.

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.

* * * * *

Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.

* * * * *

Neither a borrower nor a lender be.

Act i. Sc. 3.

Springes to catch woodcocks.

Act i. Sc. 4.

But to my mind--though I am native here,
And to the manner born--it is a custom
More honored in the breach than the observance.

Act i. Sc. 4.

Angels and ministers of grace, defend us!

Act i. Sc. 4.

Thou com'st in such a questionable shape,
That I will speak to thee.

Act i. Sc. 4.

Let me not burst in ignorance!

Act i. Sc. 4.

I do not set my life at a pin's fee.

Act i. Sc. 4.

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

Act i. Sc. 5.

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 Porcupine.

Act i. Sc. 5.

O my prophetic soul! my uncle!

Act i. Sc. 5.

O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!

Act i. Sc. 5.

No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head.

Act i. Sc. 5.

The glowworm shows the matin to be near
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire.

Act i. Sc. 5.

There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave,
To tell us this.

Act i. Sc. 5.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

Act i. Sc. 5.

The time is out of joint.

Act ii. Sc. 1.

This is the very ecstasy of love.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

Brevity is the soul of wit.

Act ii. Sc. 2.