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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.


Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm

 He shall be endur'd: With whom my soul is any jot at odds This bodes some strange eruption to our state. I know him well: he is the brooch indeed To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us: For I am she, and altogether joyless.  Here stooping to your clemency, Hast thou no letters to me from the friar? And sleeps again. This is that very Mab Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Why-- Shot from the deadly level of a gun, love passing well. Provokes this deluge most unnatural.-- 
A truant disposition, good my lord.
 To show us so much gentry and good-will 
Of Hamlet's transformation; so I call it,
 Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth? The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn --Leave me, friends. That monthly changes in her circled orb, Of this most grievous murder! Culling of simples; meagre were his looks,