It was my misfortune to have high school English teachers who deemed it unnecessary to study Shakespeare.
Recently I realised what a shame this was, when a friend read me this passage from Hamlet (Act 1, Scene 5):
“I am thy father’s spirit,
Doom’d for a certain term to walk the night,
And for the day confin’d to fast in fires,
Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
Are burnt and purg’d away. 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.
But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!
If thou didst ever thy dear father love- ”
Oh goodness me … “harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood”
… how magnificent is that.