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But look, the morn in russet mantle clad
Horatio
Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother’s death
Claudius
A little more than kin and less than kind.
Hamlet
“Seems,” madam? Nay, it is. I know not “seems.”
Hamlet
O, that this too, too sullied flesh would melt,
Hamlet
Frailty, thy name is woman!
Hamlet
My father’s spirit—in arms! All is not well.
Hamlet
. . . but you must fear,
His greatness weighed, his will is not his own,
Laertes
But to my mind, though I am a native here
Hamlet
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
Marcellus
I am thy father’s spirit,
Ghost
O most pernicious woman!
Hamlet
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Hamlet
The time is out of joint. O cursed spite
Hamlet
This above all: to thine own self be true,
Polonius