| “A little more than kin, and less than kind.” | Hamlet |
| “I am too much in the sun” | Hamlet |
| “Remember thee! ….. Remember thee!” | Hamlet |
| “O most pernicious woman! O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!” | Hamlet |
| “What a piece of work is a man!” | Hamlet |
| “Within the book and volume of my brain” | Hamlet |
| “Am I a coward? Who calls me villain?” | Hamlet |
| “O, what a rogue and peasant slave I am!” | Hamlet |
| “To what base uses we may return, Horatio!” | Hamlet |
| “Do you not come your tardy son to chide, That, laps’d in time and passion, lets go by Th’ important acting of your dread command? O,say!” | Hamlet |
| “Man delights not me- no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.” | Hamlet |
| “O, horrible! O, horrible, most horrible! If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not. Let not the royal bed of Denmark be A couch for luxury and damned incest.” | Ghost |
| “Madness in great ones must not unwatch’d go.” | King |
| “O heavy burden!” | King |
| “I stand in pause where I shall first begin,” | King |
| “That cannot be, since I am still possess’d Of those effects for which I did the murder, My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.” | King |
| “With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage,” | King |
| “At “closes in the consequence,” ay, marry.” | POLONIUS: |
| “The very cause of Hamlet’s lunacy” | POLONIUS: |
| “The head and source of all your son’s distemper.” | POLONIUS: |
| Though this be madness, yet there is method in ‘t. -Will you walk out the air, my lord?” | POLONIUS: |
| “There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance” | OPHELIA: |
| “Well, God’ild you! They say the owl was a baker’s daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table!” | OPHELIA: |
| “Good night, sweet prince” | Horatio |
| “More matter, with less art.” | Queen |
| “Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss” | Queen |
| “Mad as the sea and wind when both contend Which is the mightier. In his flawless fit,” | Queen |
| “There is a willow grows askant the brook That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; Therewith fantastic garlands did she make Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men’s fingers call them. There on the pendent boughs her crownet weeds Clamb’ring to hang, an envious sliver broke, When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide, And mermaid- like awhile they bore her up, Which time she chanted snatches of old lauds, As one incapable of her own distress, Or like a creature native and indued Unto that element. But long it could not be Till that her garments, heavy with their drink. Pull’d the poor wretch from her melodious lay To muddy death.” | Queen |
| “Thou turn’st mine eyes into my very soul, And there I see such black and grained spots As I will not leave their tinct.” | Queen |
hamlet “A little more than kin, and less than kind.”
September 2, 2019