SOLILOQUY 1: HAMLET: Oh, 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, O God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable Seems to me all the uses of this world! Fie on’t! Oh fie, fie, ‘tis an unweeded garden That grows to seed: things rank, and gross in nature Posses 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 followed my poor father’s body Like Niobe, all tears. Why she, even she, (O Heaven! A beast that wants discourse of reason Would have mourn’d longer) married with mine uncle, My father’s brother: but no more like my father, Then I to Hercules. Within a month! Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing of her galled eyes, She married. O most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets: It is not, nor it cannot come to good. But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue. (Act 1, Scene 2)