Act II, Scene 2 Quotes — Hamlet

More matter, with less art.

Is it not monstrous that this player here, / But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, / Could force his soul so to his own conceit / That from her working all his visage wan’d; / Tears in his eyes, distraction in’s aspect, / A broken voice, and his whole function suiting / With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing! / For Hecuba?

Am I a coward? / Who calls me villain, breaks my pate across? / Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face? / Tweaks me by the nose, gives me the lie i’ th’ throat / As deep as to the lungs?

Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star. This must not be.

The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms, / Black as his purpose, did the night resemble / When he lay couched in the ominous horse, / Hath now this dread and black complexion smear’d / With heraldry more dismal.

Man delights not me; no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.

God's bodikin, man, much better. Use every man after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honour and dignity.

Your noble son is mad.

For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a good kissing carrion,—Have you a daughter?

A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons, / Denmark being one o’ th’ worst.