Hamlet (extrait)

Hamlet

Hamlet : Such an act

   That blurs the grace and blush of modesty,

   Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose

   And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows

   As false as dicer’s oaths : O, such a deed

   As from the body of contraction plucks

   The very soul, and sweet religion makes

   A rhapsody of words : heaven’s face doth glow :

   Yea, this solidity and compound mass,

   With tristful visage, as against the doom,

   Is thought-sick at the act.

William Shakespeare