📔 Hamlet

I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy the air, look you, this brave o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

For 'tis the sport to have the enginer / Hoist with his own petard; and 't shall go hard / But I will delve one yard below their mines / And blow them at the moon.

Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, / Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven, / Whiles, like a puffed and reckless libertine, / Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, / And recks not his own rede.

The glowworm shows the matin to be near / And ’gins to pale his uneffectual fire. / Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me.

There is a willow grows aslant a brook, / That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream.

Is not this something more than fantasy?

Get thee [to] a Nunry, why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners, I am my selfe indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse mee of such things, that it were better my Mother had not bourne mee […]

Thus has he, and many more of the same breed that I / know the drossy age dotes on, only got the tune of the / time and, out of an habit of encounter, a kind of / yeasty collection, which carries them through and / through the most profane and winnowed opinions

Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands / Unite commutual in most sacred bands.