dream.
Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what
dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal
coil?
Must give us pause.
There's the respect
That makes calamity
of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and
scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong,
the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's
delay, the insolence of office,
And the spurns that patient merit
of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?
Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after
death,
The undiscovered country, from whose
Bourn no traveler returns,
Puzzles the will, and makes us
Rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we
know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards
of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied over with the pale cast
of thought.
And enterprises of great pith and
moment,
With this regard, their currents turn
awry, And lose the name of action.
Soft you now!
Ophelia,
walk you here.
Gracious, so please you,
We will bestow ourselves.
Read on this book.
My lord, how does your honour
for this many a day?
I humbly thank you: Well, well, well.
My lord, I have remembrances of
yours,
That I have longed long to re-deliver.
I pray you, now receive them.
No, not I.
I never gave you aught.
My honoured lord, you know right well
you did.
And, with them, words of so sweet
breath composed
As made the things more rich.
To the noble mind
Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove
unkind.
- Ha, ha! Are you honest?
- My lord?
Are you fair?
What means your lordship?
That if you be honest
and fair,
your honesty should admit
no discourse to your beauty.
Could beauty have better
commerce than with honesty?
Ay, truly, the power of beauty will
sooner transform honesty to a bawd
than the force of honesty can
translate beauty into his likeness.
This was sometime a paradox,
but now the time gives it proof.
I did love you once.
Indeed, my lord, you made me
believe so.
You should not have believed me.
I loved you not.
I was the more deceived.
Get thee to a nunnery. Why wouldst
thou be a breeder of sinners?
What should such fellows as I do
crawling between earth and heaven?
We are arrant knaves, all.
Believe none of us.
Where's your father?
At home, my lord.
Let the doors be shut upon him,
that he may play the fool no where
but in his own house.
- Farewell.
- O, help him, you sweet heavens!
If thou wilt needs marry,
marry a fool.
For wise men know well enough
what monsters you make of them.
Go to.
I'll no more on it. It has made me mad.
We will have no more marriages.
Those that are married already,
all but one, shall live.
The rest shall keep as they are.
To a nunnery, go.
You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet
said. We heard it all.
Go, Ophelia.
If you hold it fit, after the play,
Let his queen mother all alone
entreat him
To show his grief, let her be round
with him.
And I'll be placed in the ear
Of all their conference.
Do not saw the air too with your
hand, thus.
Be not too tame either,
but let your own discretion be your
tutor.
Speak the speech, as I pronounced it
to you, trippingly on the tongue.
But if you mouth it,
I had as life the town-crier spoke
my lines.
I warrant your honour.
Go, make you ready.
Horatio!
There's a play tonight before the king,
One scene comes near the circumstance
Which I have told thee
of my father's death.
I prithee, when thou see that act
a-foot,
Observe my uncle.
For I mine eyes will rivet to his face,
And after, we'll join ourjudgments.
Well, my lord.
They're coming to the play.
I must be idle.
How fares our cousin Hamlet?
Excellent, in faith.
Of the chameleon's dish:
I eat the air,
promise-crammed.
You cannot feed capons so.
I have nothing with this answer,
these words are not mine.
No, nor mine now.
My lord, you played once
in the