#hamlet's soliloquy

[umi-no-onnanoko]

[thehumming6ird]

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.

Hamlet ~ Act V, Scene I

[barbaricpoetic]

me: 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!

them: you okay?

me, crying: no 

[p-isforpoetry]

Hamlet's soliloquy Act 3, Scene 1 - interpretation

Different interpretations of Hamlet's soliloquy from Kenneth Branagh, David Tennant ( 0:02:44) , Andrew Scott ( 0:05:40) and Tom Hiddleston ( 0:09:33)

Source

[ficklemindswander]

*ded in a ditch*

My top 2 fave Hamlets in media that can be found online; Jamie Parker (his 'to be or not to be' made me tear up) and David Tennant.

[the-insomniac-cat]

Tom Hiddleston reads Prospero's Farewell to His Magic and Hamlet's Soliloquy by William Shakespeare.

[thehumming6ird]

Paapa Essiedu as Hamlet for The RSC (2017)

[sanavran]

To be or not to be

Aadas sanan nel sananen - tor sana kunavran Elusuun iresanantaenni aadas nelimsanan Seyuelin duv idiil kashevrashi Nel aadas ituvelushen nasefin irin duv damavan Tashtiri varam sefiruunnal imaden kelleshenimvel runav. Ensanan: erasanan. Enda'turon; tashtiri varam era tanalan sulavan navnavaa kellese Tor lenathayara tashtiri imeh eilan ruhashi Tornal savran halase, toren sana udoln Viri'miva aadas brinisanan. Ensanan, erasanan; Erasanan: illenil aadas leshishen: gera, sana tor diruvan Sol osael tor era duv ensavran toren leshen tornal sufilinden Venen sa-navnanavaa tanas detashena sa-savran ruloen Runav eshenur kedivalen: toral denuse kedivran Toren lisuyese aadas erensanan aadas tilan dorvan; Sol kunalnavnal tanashensanal idien tashtiri dobinan duv dorv, Guyavran varam adelashul, endanan yusara navran beronasaan, Idiemvir duv yara liiyavrashenen, tirovan duv kiruvel, Endanan yusara tovedu, tashtiri eilan avashena torvan Navran ilim lorushena zeya kashevrashul Alle sa-kunavnal irivrashenar sa-duuseren Varam lere duv zelaen livranevi? Sa-kunalnavnal danashensanal sa-danavan, Aadas tiruvalashen vanasuul erensanel lonaishi Imeren kunavnal kedisana duv toren tornal bevashentaen venen ensavran, Tor navkanta enditheshi zan alkan isa sunanen tanas fetafilina, Darasanse ifirem tashtiri ese navnavaa afuren danase toren damavan Navnavaa gurese iraad shinafili erudem eluer toren ithelsananen? Imaden kedivran duv ensavran lisuyese torvan endivier Tashtiri ivel tilan sa-navnavaa sa-lehi'van ruhashi aadas amashen Nav ithushensanna varam veian alenlavanol Tashtiri amalenin duv elovan levuhi tashtiri eloned Thubreshensanna sol tor uliru duv nikevran Tashtiri imaden balase divovran aadas demarlavansanna amalen. Finune- Torkanta sana Ofiilia beyashi. Leshuel, osael sa-navna Sa-atironen linlavantel aadas yesuen duv sa-navaa sa-merenin.

“To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action.--Soft you now! The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remember'd“