Act v. Sc. 1.
How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us.
Act v. Sc. 1.
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest; of most excellent fancy.
Act v. Sc. 1.
Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?
Act v. Sc. 1.
To what base uses we may return, Horatio!
Act v. Sc. 1.
Imperial Caesar, dead, and turned to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.