HAMLET: Frailty, thy name is “woman”!
My uncle, despite being my father’s brother, resembles him no better than I do Hercules—and yet she married him before she could even break in the shoes she wore to the funeral! A stupid animal would have mourned its mate longer!
She married less than a month after my father died—her cheeks didn’t even have time to dry! How wickedly she sped to that incestuous bed! This cannot come to any good . . .
Break, my heart—for my tongue cannot speak of this.
HORATIO: Hello my lord!
HORATIO: The same—
Ever your humble servant.
HAMLET: No, sir, my friend.