Who said it? Hamlet

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What a piece of work is a man!
To die, to sleep; to sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub
A hit, a very palpable hit.
To be, or not to be, that is the question
O, my prophetic soul!
'tis brief, my lord/as woman's love (Two People)
The glass of fashion and the mold of form, th' observed of all observers...
'A was a man. Take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again
The lady doth protest too much, methinks
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy.
The cess of majesty dies not alone, but like a gulf doth draw what's near it with it
'Tis now the very witching time of night
Rightly to be great is not to stir without great argument, but greatly to find quarrel in a straw when honor's at the stake
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance...And there is pansies; that's for thoughts
Not a whit, we defy augury. there is special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it wil
This above all: to thine own self be true
I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant. It out-Herods Herod
...the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is to hold as 'twere the mirror up to nature
There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will
Brevity is the soul of wit
That he's mad, 'tis true; 'tis true 'tis pity, and pity 'tis 'tis true
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageious fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them
There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so
LineCharacter
Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't
When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions
More matter, with less art
A little more than kin, and less than kind
...for thou hast been as one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, a man that Fortune's buffets and rewards hast ta'en with equal thanks
Suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature
Words, words, words
Good night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!
O, that this too too sullied flesh would melt...
Get thee to a nunnery
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy
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
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, that he should weep for her?
How all occasions do inform against me and spur my dull revenge!
The play's the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King.
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day
The time is out of joint. O cursed spite that ever I was born to set it right!
Neither a borrower nor a lender be
Frailty, thy name is woman!
For 'tis the sport to have the enginer hoist with his own petard.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all
Murder most foul, as in the best it is...

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