best liners /quotes from Shakespeare’s ‘Hamlet’
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Absent thee from felicity awhile (V, i)
All is not well (I, ii)
The bird of dawning singeth all night long (I, i)
Brevity is the soul of wit (II, ii)
Frailty, thy name is woman! (I, ii)
Give me that man/That is not passion’s slave (III, ii)
Give thy thoughts no tongue (I, iii)
How all occasions do inform against me (IV, iv)
I am sick at heart (I, i)
I could a tale unfold (I, v)
In my mind’s eye (I, ii)
It cannot come to good (I, ii)
It started like a guilty thing (I, i)
The lady doth protest too much (III, ii)
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul. (III, iv)
Leave her to heaven (I, v)
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tun and harsh (III, i)
Man delights not me;/nor woman neither (II, ii)
More honoured in the breach than the observance (I, iv)
More in sorrow than in anger (I, ii)
More matter, with less art (II, ii)
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be (I, iii)
Not a mouse stirring (I, i)
Now cracks a noble heart, Good-night, sweet prince,
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest? (V, ii)
O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven (III, iii)
O my prophetic soul! (I, v)
The primrose path of dalliance treads
And recks not his own rede (I, iii)
The rest is silence (V, ii)
Rosemary, that’s for remembrance IV, v)
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune (III, i)
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. (I, v)
So much for him (I, ii)
Sweets to the sweet; farewell! (V, i)
That it should come to this! (I, ii)
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. (I, v)
There’s a divinity that shapes our ends (V, ii)
This too too solid flesh (I, ii)
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all (III, i)
‘Tis bitter cold (I, i)
‘Tis true: ‘tis true ‘tis pity,
And pity ‘tis ‘tis true (II, ii)
To be, or not to be: that is the question (III, i)
To die, to sleep—No more (III, i)
T’ have seen what I have seen, see what I see! (III, i)
To sleep; perchance to dream (III, i)
To thine own self be true (I, iii)
‘Twas/caviare to the general (II, ii)
We know what we are, but
know not what we may be (IV, v)
What a piece of work is man (II, ii)
When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions (IV, v)
So have I heard and do in part believe it.
A little more than kin, and less than kind.
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly
I would not hear your enemy say so,
I doubt some foul play:
I shall th’ effect of this good lesson keep,
As watchman to my heart.
Whiles, like a puff ’d and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own rede.
I do not know, my lord, what I should think.
Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold.
So lust, though to a radiant angel link’d,
Will sate itself in a celestial bed,
And prey on garbage.
Brief let me be.
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damned incest.
The serpent that did sting thy father’s life
Now wears his crown.
Adieu, adieu! Hamlet, remember me.
To put an antic disposition on,
I’ll loose my daughter to him;
Denmark’s a prison.
Denmark being one
o’ the worst
And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of
dust? man delights not me; no, nor woman neither,
Am I a coward?
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover’d country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause.
How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience!
The harlot’s cheek, beautied with plastering art,
Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it
I did love you once.
God hath given you one face, and you make
Madness in great ones must not unwatch’d go.
suit the action to the word,
the word to the action