(855) 4-ESSAYS

Type a new keyword(s) and press Enter to search

Act. I, Scene II: Hamlet's Soliloquy


            A creative Essay: In letter format: Scored 80%.
            
             .
             (Inside Hamlet's Quarters).
             My trusted friend and comrade,.
             O, fie! Horatio, dearest friend, I trust the morrow of your days to find you well and blessed. O, Life! What a most wicked, wicked night of sleepless toss and turning. Ha! Not any different than yerternight. And yesternight, still.
             I pray I "thaw and resolve [myself] into a dew," and have to face no more the horror of my truths. And yet, the "Everlasting [has].fix'd a canon 'gainst self-slaughter," and I cannot take away this meanigless life. O, God! I am weary of this world, weary of the "unweeded" Denmark, weary of life and all that it posses. If not for Heaven's reprimand, Horatio, I may have finished with this living dead. .
             Ay, Look not upon these lines, but read into this heart that cries in desperation. In two months time, Horation, two months! Our Beloved King, my father well respected and held in hight steems sleeps in never ending slumber. He was "so excellent a king," and now, to this, O, God! To be named a king it to be blessed with privilage not rights, and this Uncle insults the sweet predicament. Like "Hiperion to a satyr" this uncle cannot and in days forward will not rise to king! .
             A second wound is yet imflicted 'pon my heaert. Fie! Must I remember how my mother" would hand on him,/ as if increase of apetitie had grown." Silly, of me to keep her tears so closely guaded to my breast, when within a month pernitious woman of "most unrighteous tears" remarries --and to my father's brother. .
             I cannot disregard this truths, Horatio.
             You, Horatio, would have mourn'd a thousand more due to respect, even propiety or love. Ha! This woman at "most wicked speed" insults my father's name and my good memory. HOw can I look to her with other eyes than these that make my face and cry my fustrated sorro. .
             My condolences HOratio.


Essays Related to Act. I, Scene II: Hamlet's Soliloquy


Got a writing question? Ask our professional writer!
Submit My Question