Claudius Laertes, was your father dear to you, Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, A face without a heart? Laertes Why ask you this? Claudius Not that I think you did not love your father, But that I know love is begun by time, And that I see, (in passages of proof), Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. Hamlet comes back. What would you undertake To show yourself your father's son in deed, More than in words? Read more about Act 4, Scene 7: Popup Note Index Item: "love is begun by time...time qualifies the spark and fire of it"
Claudius Oh , for two special reasons, Which may to you perhaps seem much unsinewed, But yet to me they are strong. The queen, his mother, Lives almost by his looks, and for myself (My virtue or my plague, be it either which) She's so conjuncconjunctive to my life and soul That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, I could not but by her. The other motive Why to a public count I might not go Is the great love the general gender bear him, Who, dipping all his faults in their affection, Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone, Convert his guilts to graces so that my arrows, Too slightly timbered for so loud a wind, Would have reverted to my bow again, And not where I had aimed them. Read more about popup_note_index_item 1541
Claudius Oh , for two special reasons, Which may to you perhaps seem much unsinewed, But yet to me they are strong. The queen, his mother, Lives almost by his looks, and for myself (My virtue or my plague, be it either which) She's so conjuncconjunctive to my life and soul That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, I could not but by her. The other motive Why to a public count I might not go Is the great love the general gender bear him, Who, dipping all his faults in their affection, Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone, Convert his guilts to graces so that my arrows, Too slightly timbered for so loud a wind, Would have reverted to my bow again, And not where I had aimed them. Read more about popup_note_index_item 1542
Laertes If so you'll not o'errule me to a peace. Claudius To thine own peace. If he be now returned, Read more about popup_note_index_item 1543
Claudius Requite him for your father. Laertes I will do't, And for that purpose I'll anoint my sword. Read more about popup_note_index_item 1545
Friar Laurence Your part in her you could not keep from death, But heaven keeps his part in eternal life. The most you sought was her promotion, For 'twas your heaven she should be advanced; And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself? O, in this love, you love your child so ill That you run mad seeing that she is well. Read more about Act 4, Scene 5: Popup Note Index Item: "ill" and "well"
Lady Capulet Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! Most miserable hour that e'er time saw In lasting labor of his pilgrimage! But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, But one thing to rejoice and solace in, And cruel death hath catched it from my sight! Read more about popup_note_index_item 1521
Capulet Despised, distressèd, hated, martyred, killed! Uncomfortable Time, why cam'st thou now To murder, murder our solemnity? O child! O child! My soul, and not my child! Dead art thou! Alack! My child is dead; And with my child my joys are burièd. Read more about popup_note_index_item 1522
Friar Laurence Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary On this fair corpse; and, as the custom is, In all her best array bear her to church. For though some nature bids us all lament, Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. Read more about popup_note_index_item 1524
Peter O musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My heart is full of woe.' O, play me some merry dump to comfort me. First Musician Not a dump, we. 'Tis no time to play now. Peter You will not then? First Musician No. Peter I will then give it you soundly. First Musician What will you give us? Peter No money, on my faith, but the gleek. I will give you the minstrel. Read more about popup_note_index_item 1525
