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| I mean, my head upon your lap? | A double blessing is a double grace, Occasion smiles upon a second leave. |
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| My hour is almost come, When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames Must render up myself. | Ah, ha! Come, some music! come, the recorders! For if the king like not the comedy, Why then, belike, he likes it not, perdy. Come, some music! |
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| Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. | Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful. |
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| I do not know, my lord, what I should think. | He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders Of his affection to me. |
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| Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? | Look, with what courteous action It waves you to a more removed ground: But do not go with it. |
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| Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief. | It is the poison'd cup: it is too late. |
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| In what particular thought to work I know not; But in the gross and scope of my opinion, This bodes some strange eruption to our state. | We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. |
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| My lord, you played once i' the university, you say? | The queen desires you to use some gentle entertainment to Laertes before you fall to play. |
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| Before my God, I might not this believe Without the sensible and true avouch Of mine own eyes. | Never make known what you have seen to-night. |
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| O day and night, but this is wondrous strange! | But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my complexion. |
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| You must sing a-down a-down, An you call him a-down-a. O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter. | Heavens make our presence and our practises Pleasant and helpful to him! |
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| Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't. Will you walk out of the air, my lord? | How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! |
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| The ambassadors from Norway, my good lord, Are joyfully return'd. | It was about to speak, when the cock crew. |
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| Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. | Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge; You go not till I set you up a glass Where you may see the inmost part of you. |
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| What, ho! help, help, help! | Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! I took thee for thy better: take thy fortune; Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger. Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down, And let me wring your heart; for so I shall, If it be made of penetrable stuff, If damned custom have not brass'd it so That it is proof and bulwark against sense. |
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| Well, God 'ild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table! | Why, now you speak Like a good child and a true gentleman. |
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| 'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds. | Do you see this, O God? |
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| How is it with you, lady? | Madam, how like you this play? |
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| Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling, Drabbing: you may go so far. | Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door. |
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| What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue In noise so rude against me? | You are keen, my lord, you are keen. |
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| Then thus she says; your behavior hath struck her into amazement and admiration. | I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe? |
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| She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you go to bed. | Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel? |
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| Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out |
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