Hamlet, Prince of Denmark — Vocabulary
William Shakespeare
Folger Shakespeare Library edition
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She speaks much of her father; says she hears There's tricks i' the world, and hems, and beats her heart; Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt, That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing, Yet the unshaped use of it doth move The hearers to collection; they aim at it, And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield them, Indeed would make one think there might be thought, Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.p.205.6alternate pages2 more

  To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it;
  Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole
  A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.†p.201.6alternate pages2 more

I beseech you.†p.261.1alternate pages7 more

Therefore I have entreated him along
With us to watch the minutes of this night;
That, if again this apparition come
He may approve our eyes and speak to it.p.9.5alternate pages6 more

—Good my lord, will you see the players well bestowed?†p.115.3alternate pages5 more

Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.p.43.8alternate pages3 more

PROLOGUE.†p.145.9alternate pages5 more

  —We are oft to blame in this
  ('Tis too much proved), that with devotion's visage
  And pious action we do sugar o'er
  The devil himself.†p.127.2alternate pages4 more

  This is the very ecstasy of love,
  Whose violent property fordoes itself
  And leads the will to desperate undertakings
  As oft as any passions under heaven
  That does afflict our natures.†p.81.1alternate pages4 more

But it was (as I received it, and others whose judgments in such matters cried in the top of mine) an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning.†p.109.9alternate pages3 more

Adieu, adieu, adieu.†p.61.7alternate pages7 more

  For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
  Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
  The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
  The insolence of office, and the spurns
  That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
  When he himself might his quietus make
  With a bare bodkin?†p.129.1alternate pages1 more

  My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
  The tedious day with sleep.†p.151.3alternate pages1 more

  And what's in prayer but this twofold force,
  To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
  Or pardoned being down?†p.165.7alternate pages1 more

  That can I.
  At least the whisper goes so: our last king,
  Whose image even but now appeared to us,
  Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
  Thereto pricked on by a most emulate pride,
  Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet
  (For so this side of our known world esteemed him)
  Did slay this Fortinbras, who by a sealed compact,
  Well ratified by law and heraldry,
  Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands
  Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror.†p.13.9alternate pages1 more

I will requite your loves.†p.39.1alternate pages1 more

Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds, The better to beguile.p.47.9alternate pages2 more

—We are oft to blame in this,— 'tis too much prov'd,—that with devotion's visage And pious action we do sugar o'er The Devil himself.p.127.2alternate pages2 more

A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.p.37.2alternate pages3 more

Ay, sir; that soaks up the King's countenance, his rewards, his authorities.p.193.5alternate pages3 more