Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother’s death The memory be green, and that it us befitted To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom
Thus was I sleeping, by a brother's hand of life, of crown, of queen at once dispatched, cut off even in the blossoms of my sin.
My brother hath slain me
The Mousetrap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna. Gonzago is the duke’s name, his wife Baptista.
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below. Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
Darn. Try again Tomorrow
Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, Which is not tomb enough and continent To hide the slain? Oh, from this time forth, My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead and now soon the king
Stay give me drink. -Hamlet this pearl is thine. Here's to thy health. Give him the cup.