Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry.
Volume III. Sorrow and Consolation. 1904. | | | | V. Death and Bereavement | | Grief | | William Shakespeare (1564–1616) |
| | From “Hamlet,” Act I. Sc. 2.
QUEEN.—Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color off, | |
| And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. | |
| Do not, forever, with thy veilèd lids | |
| Seek for thy noble father in the dust: | |
| Thou know’st ’t is common,—all that live must die, | 5 |
| Passing through nature to eternity. | |
HAMLET.—Ay, madam, it is common.
QUEEN.— If it be, | |
| Why seems it so particular with thee? | |
| HAMLET.—Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems. | |
| ’T is not alone my inky cloak, good mother, | 10 |
| Nor customary suits of solemn black, | |
| Nor windy suspiration of forced breath, | |
| No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, | |
| Nor the dejected havior of the visage, | |
| Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief, | 15 |
| That can denote me truly: these, indeed, seem, | |
| For they are actions that a man might play: | |
| But I have that within, which passeth show; | |
| These, but the trappings and the suits of woe. | | | | |
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