Bokelskere.no

Seems, madam! Nay, it is; I know not "seems."

My words fly up, my thoughts remain below. Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

Akt III, scene III [Kongen ber, men erkjenner at hans bønn er uten gyldighet da han ikke føler ekte anger. Kongen enser ikke sin nevø Hamlet som er utålmodig etter å få sin hevn. Hamlet lar omsider være å myrde sin onkel da han tror bønnen (som han ikke ordlyden av) vil forhindre en fullgod hevn.]

When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions.

talt av Claudius - Akt IV, scene v.

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 despis'd 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 these 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 naught 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.

Hamlets berømte monolog - Akt III, scene i.

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

talt av Marcellus - Akt I, scene iv.

This above all, to thine own self be true,/ And it must follow, as the night the day,/ Thou canst not be false to any man.