Barnardo: In the same figure like the king that's dead
Marcellus: Peace, break thee off. Look where it comes again!
Hamlet: Oh, that this too, too sullied flesh would melt,Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew,Or that the Everlasting had not fixedHis canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God, God!
Laertes: For Hamlet and the trifling of his favor,Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood,A violet in the youth of primy nature.
Ophelia: No more but so?
Marcellus: Look, with what courteous action It waves you to a more removèd ground.But do not go with it.
Horatio: It beckons you to go away with it,As if it some impartment did desire To you alone.
Hamlet: It will not speak. Then I will follow it.
Hamlet: O my prophetic soul! My uncle?
Ghost: Now, Hamlet, hear. 'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forgèd process of my death Rankly abused. But know, thou noble youth, The serpent that did sting thy father’s life Now wears his crown.