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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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His flight was madness: when our actions do not,

 To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you; Into the madness wherein now he raves, But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know; What is it else? a madness most discreet, Mad let us grant him then: and now remains Into the madness wherein now he raves, Make mad the guilty, and appal the free; Mad call I it; for to define true madness, 
Make mad the guilty, and appal the free;
 Was not like madness. There's something in his soul But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness. That not your trespass, but my madness speaks: Thou fond mad man, hear me speak a little,-- Was not like madness. There's something in his soul By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight, A document in madness,--thoughts and remembrance fitted.