Hamlet Act I, Scene ii Hamlet
This text is featured in our interview with Xavier Pacheco.
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- O, that this too too solid flesh would melt
- Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
- Or that the Everlasting had not fix’d
- His canon ‘gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
- How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable,
- Seem to me all the uses of this world!
- Fie on’t! ah fie! ’tis an unweeded garden,
- That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
- Possess it merely. — Frailty, thy name is woman! —
- A little month, or ere those shoes were old
- With which she follow’d my poor father’s body,
- Like Niobe, all tears: — why she, even she —
- O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,
- Would have mourn’d longer–married with my uncle,
- My father’s brother, but no more like my father
- Than I to Hercules: within a month:
- Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
- Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
- She married. O, most wicked speed, to post
- With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
- It is not nor it cannot come to good:
- But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.