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| Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder. | |
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| Murder most foul, as in the best it is; But this most foul strange and unnatural. | |
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| Haste me to know’t, that I, with wings as swift as meditation or the thoughts of love, may sweep to my revenge. | |
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| Now Hamlet hear: a serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark is by a forged process of my death. The serpent that sting thy father’s now wears his crown | |
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| O my prophetic soul! MY UNCLE! | |
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