Tag Archives: Hamlet

“Denmark’s a prison.” “Then is the world one.”

Hamlet:  Then is doomsday near! But your news is not true. Let me question more in particular. What have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of Fortune that she sends you to prison hither?

Rosencrantz:  Prison, my lord?

Hamlet:  Denmark’s a prison.

Rosencrantz:  Then is the world one.

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

Rosencrantz:  We think not so, my lord.

Hamlet:  Why, then ’tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so. To me it is a prison.

Rosencrantz:  Why, then your ambition makes it one. ‘Tis too narrow for your mind.

Hamlet: O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.

Rosencrantz:  Which dreams indeed are ambition; for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.

Hamlet:  A dream itself is but a shadow.

Rosencrantz:  Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that it is but a shadow’s shadow.

Hamlet:  Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretch’d heroes the beggars’ shadows.

 

Hamlet_Q2_TP_1604

“Hamlet, and the trifling of his favor …”

For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favor,
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent- sweet, not lasting;
The perfume and suppliance of a minute;
No more.

— Laertes, in William Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Act I, Scene 3

 

A_la_Luz_de_la_Vela.jpg

Photo credit: Gonzalo Molina [CC BY-SA 4.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)%5D

“Alas, poor Yorick!”

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! My gorge rises at it.

Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. —Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now to mock your own grinning? Quite chapfallen?

Now get you to my lady’s chamber and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favor she must come. Make her laugh at that.

— William Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Act V. Scene 1

 

Eugène_Delacroix_Hamlet_und_Horatio_auf_dem_Friedhof_(1835)_Städel_Museum

 

“Hamlet and Horatio at the Cemetery,” Eugène Delacroix, 1835