THough I havnt read Hamlet as a whole..but i have always liked it as the greatest tragedy written..
refer http://www.theatredatabase.com/16th_century/hamlet_synopsis.html .
Shaskespeare for sure deserves a loud applause for it...for creating someone like Hamlet.
The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, or more simply Hamlet, is a tragedy by William Shakespeare.
Hamlet suffers from sudden death of his father..with the acknowledgement that his mother has been married to his uncle Claudius..The best part is when OUr innocent Hamlet meets his Father's ghost nd finds out the perfect conspiracy and the whole idea behind his father's death.Meanwhile,comes into picture Ophelia nd they fall in love.
But Hamlet's strange behaviour shocks evryone and with all dramatic plot,the play reaches a tragic end where everyone dies..love,relationships...nd all..
There r a few lines which usually are remembered:
*Frailty, thy name is woman!
*Neither a borrower nor a lender be:
For loan oft loses both itself and friend.
*There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
*Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
*There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
*What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form, in moving, how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me; no, nor woman neither, though, by your smiling, you seem to say so.
*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 despis'd 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 these 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 naught 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.
*Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
*Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood,
And do such bitter business, as the day
Would quake to look on.
*My words fly up, my thoughts remain below;
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
*When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions.
*There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will.
*The rest is silence.
*Now cracks a noble heart. Good-night, sweet prince;
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
