1 My words fly up, my thoughts remain below.
2 Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
3 And there is pansies, that's for thoughts.
4 My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.
5 Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.
6 A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.
7 Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
8 So think thou wilt no second husband wed, But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.
9 Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love May sweep to my revenge.
10 I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in.
11 Sir, in this audience, Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil Free me so far in your most generous thoughts That I have shot my arrow o'er the house And hurt my brother.
12 First, her father slain; Next, your son gone; and he most violent author Of his own just remove; the people muddied, Thick and and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers For good Polonius' death; and we have done but greenly In hugger-mugger to inter him.
13 Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing, Confederate season, else no creature seeing; Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected, With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected, Thy natural magic and dire property On wholesome life usurp immediately.
14 Dread my lord, Your leave and favour to return to France, From whence though willingly I came to Denmark To show my duty in your coronation; Yet now I must confess, that duty done, My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France, And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
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.