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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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Your skill shall, like a star in the darkest night,

 Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel: For well you know this is a pitiful case. Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. Windy attorneys to their client woes, With those of Norway, or did line the rebel Did you send to him, sir? When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain;-- And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse,-- I shall th' effect of this good lesson keep In hugger-mugger to inter him: poor Ophelia MARRY your BROTHER, SISTER, or your BEST FRIEND!! Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! This is the fruit of rashness! Mark'd you not