1 My words fly up, my thoughts remain below.
2 Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.
3 These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.
4 His purse is empty already, all's golden words are spent.
5 O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand pound.
6 I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet; these words are not mine.
7 How in my words somever she be shent, To give them seals never, my soul, consent.
8 O speak to me no more; These words like daggers enter in mine ears; No more, sweet Hamlet.
9 I have words to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb; yet are they much too light for the bore of the matter.
10 O such a deed As from the body of contraction plucks The very soul, and sweet religion makes A rhapsody of words.
11 Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath, And breath of life, I have no life to breathe What thou hast said to me.
12 I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth Have you so slander any moment leisure As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet.
13 This to me In dreadful secrecy impart they did, And I with them the third night kept the watch, Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time, Form of the thing, each word made true and good, The apparition comes.
14 My honour'd lord, you know right well you did, And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd As made the things more rich; their perfume lost, Take these again; for to the noble mind Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
15 Her speech is nothing, Yet the unshaped use of it doth move The hearers to collection; they aim at it, And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts, Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield them, Indeed would make one think there might be thought, Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
16 But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.