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Blame Thyself!

influence, and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on.

BUT

King Lear. Act I, Sc. 2.

UT as the unthought-on accident is guilty To what we wildly do, so we profess Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies Of every wind that blows.

A Winter's Tale. Act IV, Sc. 4.

HESITATION

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The Pallor of

Thought

COWARD conscience, how doth thou afflict me!

Richard III. Act V, Sc. 3.

HUS conscience doth make cowards of

Thus all;

And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

Hamlet. Act III, Sc. 1.

ΤΗ

do

THAT we wou do when we would; for

We should

this "would" changes,

And hath abatements and delays as many
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
And then this "should" is like a spendthrift
sigh,

That hurts by easing.

Hamlet. Act IV, Sc. 7.

NA

[AY, if we talk of

reason,

Let's shut our gates, and sleep. Man

hood and honour

Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts

With this cramm'd reason. Reason and re

spect

Make livers pale and lustihood deject.

Troilus and Cressida. Act II, Sc. 2.

UR doubts are traitors,

O"

And make us lose the good we oft
might win

By fearing to attempt.

Measure for Measure. Act I, Sc. 4.

Post

ponement

Hare

hearted

Reason

ing

Doubts

are

Traitors

Act!

Strike!

FR

ROM this moment
The flighty
Unless the deed go with it.

purpose never is o'ertook

The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand.

ΤΗ

Macbeth. Act IV, Sc. 1.

HOUGHTS speculative their unsure hopes relate,

But certain issue strokes must arbitrate.

Macbeth. Act V, Sc. 4.

SELF-SLAUGHTER

Fear

T

O kill myself,

The Will to Die

alack, what were it,

But with my body my poor soul's pol

lution?

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OR stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,

NOR

Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,

Can be retentive to the strength of spirit;

But life, being weary of these worldly bars,
Never lacks power to dismiss itself.

T

Julius Cæsar. Act I, Sc. 3.

O be, or not to be: that is the question.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind

suffer

to

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die; to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural
shocks

That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die; to sleep,-
To sleep? Perchance to dream! Ay, there's
rub;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may

come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.

For who would bear the whips and scorns of
time,

The

Undiscovered

Country

The Question

A Fettered

Con

science

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's con-
tumely,

The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
Το grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Hamlet. Act III, Sc. 1.

LL'S but naught;

Patience is sottish, and impatience does
Become a dog that's mad: then is it sin
To rush into the secret house of death,
Ere death dare come to us?

Antony and Cleopatra. Act IV, Sc. 15.

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