4.
But to my mind--though I am native here,
And to the manner born--it is a custom
More honored in the breach than the observance.
Act i. Sc. 4.
Angels and ministers of grace, defend us!
Act i. Sc. 4.
Thou com'st in such a questionable shape,
That I will speak to thee.
Act i. Sc. 4.
Let me not burst in ignorance!
Act i. Sc. 4.
I do not set my life at a pin's fee.
Act i. Sc. 4.
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
Act i. Sc. 5.
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood;
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres;
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful Porcupine.
Act i. Sc. 5.
O my prophetic soul! my uncle!
Act i. Sc. 5.
O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!
Act i. Sc. 5.
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head.
Act i. Sc. 5.
The glowworm shows the matin to be near
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire.
Act i. Sc. 5.
There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave,
To tell us this.
Act i. Sc. 5.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
Act i. Sc. 5.
The time is out of joint.
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