«A little more than kin, and less than kind.»
«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 forced breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage,
Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief,
That can denote me truly: these indeed seem,
For they are actions that a man might play:
But I have that within which passeth show;
These but the trappings and the suits of woe.»
«It is not nor it cannot come to good.»
«The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,
That ever I was born to set it right!»
« There is nothing
either good or bad, but thinking makes it so»
( читать дальше )«What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
how infinite in faculty! 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?
man delights not me:
no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.»
«I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is
southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.»
«Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't. »
«The play 's the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.»
«The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.»
«I am myself indifferent honest;
but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me:
I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck
than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in.
What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven?»
«Or, if thou wilt needs
marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough
what monsters you make of them.»
«Sir, I cannot.»
«What, my lord?»
«Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseased»
«Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me!
You would play upon me;
you would seem to know my stops;
you would pluck out the heart of my mystery;
you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass:
and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ;
yet cannot you make it speak.
'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe?
Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me,
yet you cannot play upon me.»
«Let me be cruel, not unnatural:
I will speak daggers to her, but use none;
My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites;
How in my words soever she be shent,
To give them seals never, my soul, consent!»
«You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife;
And--would it were not so!--you are my mother.»
«Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge;
You go not till I set you up a glass
Where you may see the inmost part of you.»
«Let it work;
For 'tis the sport to have the engineer
Hoist with his own petard: and 't shall go hard
But I will delve one yard below their mines,
And blow them at the moon: O, 'tis most sweet,
When in one line two crafts directly meet.»
«Do not believe it.»
«Believe what?»
«That I can keep your counsel and not mine own.
Besides, to be demanded of a sponge!
what replication should be made by the son of a king?»
«Where is Polonius?»
«In heaven; send hither to see: if your messenger find him not there,
seek him i' the other place yourself.
But indeed, if you find him not within this month,
you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby.»
«But, come; for England! Farewell, dear mother.»
«Thy loving father, Hamlet.»
«My mother: father and mother is man and wife;
man and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England!»
«What is a man,
If his chief good and market of his time
Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
Sure, he that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and god-like reason
To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on the event,
A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom
And ever three parts coward, I do not know
Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;'
Sith I have cause and will and strength and means
To do't. »
«Rightly to be great
Is not to stir without great argument,
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
When honour's at the stake.»
'He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET.'
«Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio:
a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy:
he hath borne me on his back a thousand times;
and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is!»
«I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers
Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?
'Swounds, show me what thou'lt do:
Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself?
Woo't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile?
I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine?
To outface me with leaping in her grave?»
«It will be short: the interim is mine;
And a man's life's no more than to say 'One.'
But I am very sorry, good Horatio,
That to Laertes I forgot myself;
For, by the image of my cause, I see
The portraiture of his: I'll court his favours.»
«Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane,
Drink off this potion. Is thy union here?
Follow my mother.»
«He is justly served;
It is a poison temper'd by himself.
Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet:
Mine and my father's death come not upon thee,
Nor thine on me.»
«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.»
«Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince:
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!»
«And let me speak to the yet unknowing world
How these things came about: so shall you hear
Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts,
Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters,
Of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause,
And, in this upshot, purposes mistook
Fall'n on the inventors' reads: all this can I
Truly deliver.»