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Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead
QUEEN GERTRUDE I doubt it is no other but the main; His father's death, and our o'erhasty marriage.
QUEEN GERTRUDE More matter, with less art.
What do you read, my lord? HAMLET Words, words, words.
Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't.
If 't be the affliction of his love or no That thus he suffers for.
I have remembrances of yours, That I have longed long to re-deliver;
God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another:
Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go.
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow?
Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my tears:
