1 And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.
2 A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
3 Tears seven times salt, Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye.
4 Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
5 The scrimers of their nation He swore had neither motion, guard, nor eye, If you oppos'd them.
6 If that his Majesty would aught with us, We shall express our duty in his eye; And let him know so.
7 That I am guiltless of your father's death, And am most sensibly in grief for it, It shall as level to your judgment 'pear As day does to your eye.'
8 For your intent In going back to school in Wittenberg, It is most retrograde to our desire: And we beseech you bend you to remain Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye, Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.
9 Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, moods, shows of grief, That can denote me truly.
10 See what a grace was seated on this brow, Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself, An eye like Mars, to threaten and command, A station like the herald Mercury New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill: A combination and a form indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man.
11 Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, Th'imperial jointress to this warlike state, Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy, With one auspicious and one dropping eye, With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage, In equal scale weighing delight and dole, Taken to wife; nor have we herein barr'd Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone With this affair along.'