CLAUDIUS: Why is it that the clouds still hang on you?
HAMLET: Impossible, my lord, when I am so much in the “son.”
GERTRUDE: My dear Hamlet, cast off this melancholy. Raise up your head—You cannot go looking for your father in the dust forever. All that lives must die, passing through nature, to eternity—it’s normal.
HAMLET: Yes mother, it is common.
GERTRUDE: So why does it seem so strange to you?
HAMLET: “Seem,” mother? No, it is. I don’t know what you mean by “seem.” Neither my clothes, nor my heavy sighs, nor my watery eyes and dejected face, nor any other mood, form, nor shape of grief can show you what I truly feel.
There are things any actor can play. I have something in me that surpasses mere show.
CLAUDIUS: Hamlet, you are sweet to mourn your father like this, but be rational—your father lost his father before him, who lost his father as well. Each son has to mourn his father for a while
—But overdoing it is just stubborn. It’s not manly.