第3章(2/5)
This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof, No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day, But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell, And the king's rouse the heavens all bruit again, Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.
Exeunt all but HAMLET HAMLET 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! God!
How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't! 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 on't--Frailty, thy name is woman!--A little month, or ere those shoes were old With which she follow'd my poor father's body, Like Niobe, all tears:--why she, even she--O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourn'd longer--married with my uncle, My father's brother, but no more like my father Than I to Hercules: within a month:
Ere yet the salt of most u-->>