What art thou, that usurp’st this time of night, Together with that fair and warlike form In which the majesty of buried Denmark Did sometimes march?
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.
Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Why, ’tis a loving and a fair reply: Be as ourself in Denmark.
There’s ne’er a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he’s an arrant knave.
A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons, Denmark being one o’ the worst.
Denmark’s a prison.
Then if he says he loves you, It fits your wisdom so far to believe it As he in his particular act and place May give his saying deed; which is no further Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
’tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forged process of my death Rankly abus’d; but know, thou noble youth, The serpent that did sting thy father’s life Now wears his crown.
Thy face is valanc’d since I saw thee last; comest thou to beard me in Denmark?
How can that be, when you have the voice of the king himself for your succession in Denmark?
Dread my lord, Your leave and favour to return to France; From whence though willingly I came to Denmark, To show my duty in your coronation; Yet now, I must confess, that duty done, My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France, And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
—Madam, come; This gentle and unforc’d accord of Hamlet Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof, No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell; And the king’s rouse the heaven shall bruit again, Re-speaking earthly thunder.
It is not very strange; for my uncle is king of Denmark, and those that would make mouths at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little.
Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
Why, here in Denmark: I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years.
Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.
A plain in Denmark.
Set me the stoups of wine upon that table,— If Hamlet give the first or second hit, Or quit in answer of the third exchange, Let all the battlements their ordnance fire; The king shall drink to Hamlet’s better breath; And in the cup an union shall he throw, Richer than that which four successive kings In Denmark’s crown have worn.
My tables,—meet it is I set it down, That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; At least, I am sure, it may be so in Denmark: [Writing.
…to find out them: had my desire; Finger’d their packet; and, in fine, withdrew To mine own room again: making so bold, My fears forgetting manners, to unseal Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio, O royal knavery! an exact command,— Larded with many several sorts of reasons, Importing Denmark’s health, and England’s too, With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life,— That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, My head should be struck off.
If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not; Let not the royal bed of Denmark be A couch for luxury and damned incest.
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He hopes Denmark will lead the world in adaptation of all-electric cars.