Act I, Scene 2 Quotes — Hamlet

Frailty, thy name is woman!

Seems, madam! Nay, it is; I know not seems. / ’Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, / Nor customary suits of solemn black, / Nor windy suspiration of forc’d breath, / No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, / Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, / Together with all forms, moods, shows of grief, / That can denote me truly.

But I have that within which passeth show; / These but the trappings and the suits of woe.

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! O God!

He was a man, take him for all in all, / I shall not look upon his like again.

A little more than kin, and less than kind.

If it assume my noble father’s person, / I’ll speak to it, though hell itself should gape / And bid me hold my peace.

Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak’d meats / Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.

So excellent a king; that was to this / Hyperion to a satyr;

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.