Hamlet Act 1 Scene 2 Soliloquy (1996)

O, that this too too solid flesh would melt Thaw and resolve itself into a dew Or that the Everlasting had not fixd His canon gainst selfslaughter O God God How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world Fie ont ah fie tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth Must I remember why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on: and yet, within a month Let me not think ontFrailty, thy name is woman A little month, or ere those shoes were old With which she followd my poor fathers body, Like Niobe, all tears:why she, even she O