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More than his father's death, that thus has put him. So much from th' understanding of himself, I cannot dream of. I entreat you both, That being of so young days brought up with him, And since so neighbored to his youth and humor, That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court. Some little time, so by your companies.
- Act 2, Scene 1
Worried about Laertes in France, Polonius sends his servant,...
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Claudius and Gertrude are worried about Hamlet, who’s been...
- Act 2, Scene 1
Black as his purpose, did the night resemble: When he lay couched in the ominous horse, 430: Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd: With heraldry more dismal; head to foot: Now is he total gules; horridly trick'd: With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, Baked and impasted with the parching streets, That lend a tyrannous and ...
Black as his purpose, did the night resemble When he lay couchèd in th’ ominous horse, Hath now this dread and black complexion smeared 480 With heraldry more dismal. Head to foot, Now is he total gules, horridly tricked With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, Baked and impasted with the parching streets,
Black as his purpose, did the night resemble. When he lay couched in th’ ominous horse, Hath now this dread and black complexion smear’d. With heraldry more dismal: head to foot. Now is he total gules, horridly trick’d. With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, Bak’d and impasted with the parching streets,
Black as his purpose, did the night resemble When he lay couched in the ominous horse, Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd(450) With heraldry more dismal. Head to foot Now is he total gules, horridly trick'd With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons. Baked and impasted with the parching streets,
Head to foot, To their vile murders. Roasted in wrath and fire, Old grandsire Priam seeks.’. So, proceed you. Hamlet and the actor recite a speech from a fictitious play based on the Aeneid, the Roman writer Virgil’s epic poem about the Trojan war. In the Aeneid, Aeneas tells Dido, the Queen of Carthage, the story of the fall of Troy.
Black as his purpose, did the night resemble When he lay couched in the ominous horse, Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd With heraldry more dismal; head to foot Now is he total gules; horridly trick'd With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, Baked and impasted with the parching streets, That lend a tyrannous and damned light
