Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Ham. Thaw, and resolue it selfe into a Dew:
Ham. Or that the Euerlasting had not fixt
Ham. His Cannon 'gainst Selfe‑slaughter. O God, O God!
Ham. How weary, stale, flat, and vnprofitable
Ham. Seemes to me all the vses of this world?
Ham. Fie on't? Oh fie, fie, 'tis an vnweeded Garden
Ham. That growes to Seed: Things rank, and grosse in Nature
Ham. Possesse it meerely. That it should come to this:
Ham. But two months dead: Nay, not so much; not two,
Ham. So excellent a King, that was to this
Ham. Hiperion to a Satyre: so louing to my Mother,
Ham. That he might not beteene the windes of heauen
Ham. Visit her face too roughly. Heauen and Earth
Ham. Must I remember: why she would hang on him,
Ham. As if encrease of Appetite had growne
Ham. By what it fed on; and yet within a month?
Ham. Let me not thinke on't: Frailty, thy name is woman.
Ham. A little Month, or ere those shooes were old,
Ham. With which she followed my poore Fathers body
Ham. Like Niobe, all teares. Why she, euen she.