Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, finds out that his uncle Claudius killed his father to obtain the throne, and plans revenge.

Hamlet: A little more than kin and less than kind.
Hamlet: For there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
Hamlet: I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire! Why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! In form and moving, how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?
Hamlet: To be or not to be, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them.
Hamlet: Frailty, thy name is woman!
Hamlet: O, from this time forth my thoughts be bloody or be nothing worth!
Ghost: Murder most foul, as in the best it is, But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
Claudius: Where is Polonius?
[Strikes Hamlet with the back of his hand]
Hamlet: In heaven. Send thither to see. If your messenger find him not there, seek him in the other place yourself!
Hamlet, Prince of Denmark: Do you see yonder cloud that looks like a camel?
Polonius, Lord Chamberlain: By the mass, 'tis like a camel indeed.
Hamlet, Prince of Denmark: Methinks it looks like a weasel.
Polonius: [Talking aside to himself] Though this be madness, yet there is method in't!
[last lines]
Hamlet: The rest is silence.
Horatio: Good night, sweet prince. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
Marcellus: Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
Hamlet: Now mother, what's the matter?
Gertrude: Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
Hamlet: Mother, you have *my* father much offended.
Gertrude: Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
Hamlet: Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue!
Gertrude: Why, how now, Hamlet?
Hamlet: What's the matter now?
Gertrude: Have you forgot me?
Hamlet: No by the rood, not so! You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife!
Fortinbras: [seeing the throne room littered with dead bodies] This quarry cries on havoc. / O proud Death, what feast is toward in thine eternal cell / That thou so many princes at a shot / So bloodily hast struck?
Polonius: This above all - to thine own self be true/ And it must follow as the night the day/ Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Hamlet: But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
Hamlet: Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio - a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath bore me on his back a thousand times, and now how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung these lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment that were wont to set the table on a roar?
[Hamlet descends the stairs to the sepulcher, to visit his father's tomb. His eyes are red with grief. He looks around warily, as though wondering if the Ghost might appear. He's depressed on many accounts: he's just frightened Ophelia, whom he loves; he himself is frightened by the Ghost's command to kill his uncle; he's been playing a madman all this time in order to kill his uncle, and he is afraid to continue to do any of these things]
Hamlet: To be, or not to be, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep no more...
[He gazes at the skeletons residing in niches of the sepulcher]
Hamlet: ...and by a sleep to say...
[He finally comes to his father's tomb]
Hamlet: ...we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to!
[Hamlet rests his fists upon his father's tomb, closes his eyes, and shapes his hands into prayer position]
Hamlet: 'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished! To die, to sleep. To sleep -
[in alarm at the idea, he stands and paces]
Hamlet:
[He lays his head upon his father's tomb]
Hamlet: [viciously] 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?
[He stares at the ground, near to weeping]
Hamlet: 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?
[He looks at the ceiling, or to Heaven]
Hamlet: Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
Hamlet: What man dost thou dig it for?
First Gravedigger: For no man sir.
Hamlet: For what woman then?
First Gravedigger: For none neither.
Hamlet: *Who* is to be buried here?
First Gravedigger: One that was a woman sir, but rest her soul, she's dead.
Polonius: Ophelia, walk you here.
[to Claudius]
Polonius: Gracious, so please you, we will bestow ourselves.
[to Ophelia, handing her a book of prayers]
Polonius: Read on this book. He is coming. Let us withdraw, my lord.
[Hamlet sees Polonius and Claudius sneaking away to hide and eavesdrop. Ophelia looks up and sees him approaching the staircase down to her; she obediently starts walking back and forth, pretending to study the prayers. Hamlet has a pretty good idea what is going on]
Hamlet: Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered.
Ophelia: Good my lord, how does your honor for this many a day?
Hamlet: I humbly thank you, well.
[He starts to walk away and she hurries after him]
Ophelia: My lord, I have remembrances of yours that I have long├Ęd long to redeliver. I pray you now receive them.
Hamlet: No, not I. I never gave you aught.
Ophelia: My honored lord, you know right well you did, and with them, words of so sweet breath composed as made the things more rich. Their perfume lost, take these again. There, my lord.
[He takes the necklaces, staring at her, then begins to chuckle]
Hamlet: Ha, ha! Are you honest?
Ophelia: My lord?
Hamlet: Are you fair?
Ophelia: What means your lordship?
Hamlet: That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty.
Ophelia: [spiritedly] Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?
Hamlet: I did love you once.
Ophelia: Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
Hamlet: [Pretending contempt] You should not have believed me. I loved you not! Where's your father?
[Hiding behind a pillar, watching, Claudius and Polonius jump in fear. Horrified to lie to him, Ophelia gives us the first wild-eyed look of fright that will accompany her when she goes mad]
Ophelia: At home, my lord.
Hamlet: [loudly, for the eavesdroppers] Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool nowhere but in his own house. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry. Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Or if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool, for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. I have heard of your paintings, well enough. God hath given you one face and you make yourselves another. You jig and amble, and you lisp, you nickname God's creatures and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on 't.
[He shoves her at the wall and she gasps]
Hamlet: It hath made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriage. Those that are married already, all but one, shall live. The rest shall keep as they are.
[He throws the necklaces at her]
Polonius: My lord I will take my leave of you.
Hamlet: You cannot sir, take from me anything I would more willingly part withal. Except my life. Except my life
[grins crazily]
Hamlet: Except my life.
Polonius: Fare you well, my lord.
Hamlet: [to himself, quite sane] These tedious old fools.
Hamlet: I lov'd Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not with all their quantity of love make up my sum.
Hamlet: There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
Gertrude: One woe doth tread upon another's heels so fast they follow.
Hamlet, Prince of Denmark: To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to 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 undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller 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 o'er 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.
Horatio: Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
Hamlet: The play's the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Hamlet: Seems, madam! nay it is; I know not "seems."
Hamlet: Sir, to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
[first lines]
Claudius: Hamlet! Think of us as of a father. For let the world take note: you are the most immediate to our throne. And with no less nobility of love than that which dearest father bears his son do I impart toward you.
Hamlet: Whose grave is this sir?
First Gravedigger: Mine sir.
[Resumes singing his ditty]
Hamlet: [Interrupts] I think it be thine indeed, for thou liest in't.
First Gravedigger: You lie out on't sir, and therefore it is not yours. For my part I do not lie ins't and yet it is mine.
Hamlet: Thou dost lie in't to be in't, and say 'tis thine. 'Tis for the dead not for the quick, therefore thou liest.
First Gravedigger: 'Tis a quick lie, sir. 'Twill away again from me to you.
Hamlet: [to Ophelia] Get thee to a nunnery!
Marcellus: [referring to the Ghost] Peace, break thee off. Look where it comes again!
Bernardo: In the same figure, like the dead King Hamlet.
Hamlet: Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in the shape of a camel?
Polonius: By the mass, and 'tis like a camel indeed.
Hamlet: Methinks it's like a weasel.
Polonius: It is backed like a weasel.
Hamlet: Or like a whale.
Polonius: Very like a whale.
Hamlet: O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
[furiously using his sword to "write" the following line in the stone battlements of the castle]
Hamlet: I set it down, that one may smile, and smile, and be a villain!
Horatio: Take up the bodies: such a sight as this / Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss. / Go, bid the soldiers shoot!
Hamlet: Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt!
Hamlet: Thus conscience does make cowards of us all.
Hamlet, Prince of Denmark: Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt!
Polonius, Lord Chamberlain: My lord, put your discourse into some frame and start not so wildly from my affair.
Hamlet, Prince of Denmark: I am tame sir; pronounce.
Hamlet: The play's the thing, wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Polonius: This above all: to thine own self be true, and it must follow as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.
Horatio: This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
Hamlet: 'Tis now the very witching time of night, when church yards yawn and hell itself breathes out contagion to this world.
Claudius: When sorrows come, they come not single spies but in battalions.
Hamlet: Hide fox and all after!
Hamlet: If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, absent thee from felicity awhile and in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain to tell my story.
Hamlet: There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
[last lines]
Horatio: Good night, sweet prince; and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
Hamlet: Alas, poor Yorrick, I knew him.
Hamlet: Hoist with his own petard.
Horatio: I have heard, the cock that is the herald to the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat Awake the god of day.
Hamlet: I myself am indifferent honest, yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me.
Hamlet: If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all.
Polonius: How dost my good lord Hamlet?
[Turns a corner and is shocked by a mask-wearing Hamlet]
Hamlet: Well. God a' mercy.
Polonius: [Astonished at Hamlet's peculiar behavior] Do you know me my lord?
Hamlet: Excellent well. You are a fishmonger.
Polonius: What do you read, my lord?
Hamlet: [looks down at his book] Words...
[looks at the cover of the book]
Hamlet: words...
[looks up at Polonius]
Hamlet: Words.
Hamlet: Frailty, thy name is woman.
[first lines]
Narrator: So oft it chances in particular men / That through some vicious mole of nature in them, / By the o'ergrowth of some complexion / Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, / Or by some habit grown too much; that these men - / Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, / Their virtues else - be they as pure as grace, / Shall in the general censure take corruption / From that particular fault... This is the tragedy of a man who could not make up his mind.

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