Hamlet's Soliloquies: The Heart of Hamlet

Seven major soliloquies reveal Hamlet's inner state and drive much of the play's meaning. Each marks a crucial moment in his descent from shock to madness to murderous resolution. Together, they constitute some of Shakespeare's greatest poetry and philosophy, exploring consciousness, inaction, mortality, and the paralysis of overthinking. Texts are from the Folger Shakespeare Library edition.

Soliloquy 1: "O that this too too solid flesh would melt"

Act I, Scene 2 | After his father's death; before meeting the Ghost

Text

O that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter. O God! O God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't! Oh fie! 'tis an unweeded garden
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
But two months dead—nay, not so much, not two:
So excellent a king; that was to this
Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother,
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on; and yet, within a month—
Let me not think on't—Frailty, thy name is woman!
A little month, or ere those shoes were old
With which she followed my poor father's body
Like Niobe, all tears.—Why she, even she—
O God! A beast that wants discourse of reason
Would have mourn'd longer,—married with mine uncle,
My father's brother; but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules. Within a month,
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married. O most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.
But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.

Summary

Hamlet's opening soliloquy presents a suicidal young man contemplating the dissolution of his flesh. The world seems "weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable" — a word that echoes throughout the play. His primary torment is his mother's hasty marriage to his uncle within two months of his father's death. He expresses disgust at female sexuality ("Frailty, thy name is woman!") and sees his uncle as vastly inferior to his father. Yet he can do nothing but hold his tongue. This soliloquy establishes Hamlet as a melancholic, introspective figure already predisposed to despair — into which the Ghost's revelation will plunge him.

Soliloquy 2: "O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!"

Act II, Scene 2 | After hearing the players' performance of Hecuba's lament

Text

O what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
Is it not monstrous that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit
That from her working all his visage wan'd;
Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing!
For Hecuba?
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weep for her? What would he do,
Had he the motive and the cue for passion
That I have? He would drown the stage with tears
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech;
Make mad the guilty, and appal the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed,
The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I,
A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak
Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,
And can say nothing. No, not for a king
Upon whose property and most dear life
A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain, breaks my pate across?
Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face?
Tweaks me by the nose, gives me the lie i' th' throat
As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this?
Ha! 'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be
But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall
To make oppression bitter, or ere this
I should have fatted all the region kites
With this slave's offal. Bloody, bawdy villain!
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
Oh vengeance!
Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,
That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,
Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words
And fall a-cursing like a very drab,
A scullion! Fie upon't! Foh!
About, my brain! I have heard
That guilty creatures sitting at a play,
Have by the very cunning of the scene,
Been struck so to the soul that presently
They have proclaim'd their malefactions.
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players
Play something like the murder of my father
Before mine uncle. I'll observe his looks;
I'll tent him to the quick. If he but blench,
I know my course.

Summary

Hamlet berates himself for inaction. A player can weep for a fictional character (Hecuba), yet Hamlet — who has a real father murdered, a real mother shamed, and heaven and hell commanding revenge — can do nothing but speak. He castigates himself as a "rogue and peasant slave," a coward ("pigeon-liver'd"), and a whore unpacking his heart with mere words. But the soliloquy ends not in paralysis but in decision: he will have the players re-enact his father's murder before Claudius. If Claudius is guilty, his reaction will reveal it ("tent him to the quick"). This soliloquy captures Hamlet's self-loathing, his struggle with inaction, and his attempt to move from words to "action."

Soliloquy 3: "To be, or not to be"

Act III, Scene 1 | Alone in the castle, contemplating existence and suicide

Text

To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep.
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action. Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.

Summary

The most famous soliloquy in world literature, "To be or not to be" presents Hamlet's meditation on existence, suffering, and death. The central question is whether it is nobler to endure life's miseries passively or to die (and sleep) and possibly end all pain. But the soliloquy reveals that this logical conclusion—suicide—is prevented by uncertainty about the afterlife. Fear of the unknown makes people choose to live despite unbearable suffering. Hamlet concludes that "conscience does make cowards of us all"—the same consciousness and moral reasoning that gives humans godlike reason also paralyzes action by introducing doubt. The soliloquy ends abruptly when Hamlet sees Ophelia, shifting from metaphysical despair to immediate human reality. The soliloquy expresses universal existential anxiety and explains Hamlet's tragic paralysis.

Soliloquy 4: "To be, or not to be" (continued from above)

The soliloquy ends abruptly when Hamlet sees Ophelia, shifting from metaphysical despair to immediate human reality. It expresses universal existential anxiety and explains Hamlet's tragic paralysis through the lens of consciousness itself.

Soliloquy 5: "O all you host of heaven! O Earth! What else?"

Act I, Scene 5 | Immediately after meeting the Ghost and learning of his father's murder

Context

Hamlet has encountered the Ghost of his father, who has revealed that Claudius murdered him by pouring poison in his ear while he slept. The Ghost demands revenge. After the Ghost exits, Hamlet reacts to this terrible knowledge and vows to remember nothing but the command to avenge.

Text

O all you host of heaven! O Earth! What else?
And shall I couple hell? O fie! Hold, hold, my heart,
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee?
Ay, thou poor ghost, whiles memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe. Remember thee?
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial, fond records,
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
That youth and observation copied there,
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmixed with baser matter. Yes, by heaven!
O most pernicious woman!
O villain, villain, smiling, damnèd villain!
My tables—meet it is I set it down
That one may smile and smile and be a villain.
At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark.
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word.
It is "adieu, adieu, remember me."
I have sworn 't.

Summary

Hamlet's response to the Ghost combines shock, determination, and philosophical clarity. He invokes heaven, earth, and hell—the whole cosmos—to witness his response. He resolves to erase all trivial knowledge from his memory and replace it entirely with the Ghost's command. This soliloquy reveals both his emotional intensity and his intellectual rigor: he will dedicate his entire mind to revenge. The famous aphorism "one may smile and smile and be a villain" captures the play's central theme of appearance vs. reality. The soliloquy ends with his sacred oath to remember the Ghost's words. Unlike the later soliloquies where Hamlet hesitates, here he is temporarily clear and committed.

Soliloquy 6: "'Tis now the very witching time of night"

Act III, Scene 2 | Immediately after Claudius's reaction to the Players' performance confirms his guilt

Context

Hamlet's trap has worked. The play mirroring his father's murder has provoked a guilty response from Claudius, who suddenly leaves the performance. Hamlet is exuberant that his uncle's guilt is now confirmed. His mother has summoned him to her chamber, and he resolves to confront her—though he promises himself he will wound her only with words.

Text

'Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood
And do such bitter business as the day
Would quake to look on. Soft, now to my mother.
O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever
The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom.
Let me be cruel, not unnatural.
I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites:
How in my words somever she be shent,
To give them seals never, my soul, consent.

Summary

This brief but intense soliloquy captures Hamlet at his most dangerous. Confirming Claudius's guilt has unleashed violent energy—he fantasizes about drinking blood and committing terrible acts. The imagery of witching hour, yawning churchyards, and hellish contagion reflects his darkened state. Yet he restrains himself before confronting his mother: he will be "cruel, not unnatural," speaking daggers but drawing no sword. This soliloquy reveals the tension between Hamlet's rhetorical power and his capacity for violence, and foreshadows the tragic scene in his mother's chamber where he will fatally wound Polonius, thinking it is Claudius.

Soliloquy 7: "Now might I do it pat, now he is a-praying"

Act III, Scene 3 | Hamlet encounters Claudius at prayer and debates whether to kill him

Context

Claudius, in his own soliloquy, has expressed genuine remorse for murdering his brother and has knelt to pray for forgiveness. Hamlet discovers him in this vulnerable state, sword drawn, and debates whether this is the moment to strike. However, he reasons that killing Claudius while he prays would send his soul to heaven—not true revenge.

Text

Now might I do it pat, now he is a-praying,
And now I'll do 't. ⌜He draws his sword.⌝
And so he goes to heaven,
And so am I revenged? That would be scanned:
A villain kills my father, and for that,
I, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.
Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge.
He took my father grossly, full of bread,
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And how his audit stands who knows save heaven.
But in our circumstance and course of thought
'Tis heavy with him. And am I then revenged
To take him in the purging of his soul,
When he is fit and seasoned for his passage?
No.
Up sword, and know thou a more horrid hent.
⌜He sheathes his sword.⌝
When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage,
Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed,
At game, a-swearing, or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in 't—
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,
And that his soul may be as damned and black
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays.
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.

Summary

This soliloquy reveals a deeper layer of Hamlet's paralysis: philosophical scrupulosity masquerading as revenge. He has the perfect opportunity to kill Claudius, yet delays with theological reasoning. True revenge, he argues, is not to send Claudius's soul to heaven while he prays, but to kill him in sin so his soul is damned. This soliloquy shows Hamlet constructing intellectual justifications for inaction, a pattern that will repeat until the play's catastrophe. It also reveals his vindictiveness: he doesn't merely want Claudius dead; he wants him damned. The soliloquy's end—"My mother stays"—shifts his attention to another confrontation, where his philosophical debates will have tragic consequences.

Soliloquy 8: "How all occasions do inform against me"

Act IV, Scene 4 | Watching Fortinbras's army march to war over a worthless scrap of land

Context

As Hamlet is escorted to England (as part of Claudius's plot to have him executed), he encounters soldiers of Fortinbras of Norway marching across Denmark to invade Poland. This spectacle of bold action over a trivial cause shames him into confronting his own paralysis.

Text

How all occasions do inform against me
And spur my dull revenge. What is a man
If his chief good and market of his time
Be but to sleep and feed? A beast, no more.
Sure He that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and godlike reason
To fust in us unused. Now whether it be
Bestial oblivion or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on th' event
(A thought which, quartered, hath but one part wisdom
And ever three parts coward), I do not know
Why yet I live to say "This thing's to do,"
Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means
To do 't. Examples gross as Earth exhort me:
Witness this army of such mass and charge,
Led by a delicate and tender prince,
Whose spirit with divine ambition puffed
Makes mouths at the invisible event,
Exposing what is mortal and unsure
To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
Even for an eggshell. Rightly to be great
Is not to stir without great argument,
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
When honor's at the stake. How stand I, then,
That have a father killed, a mother stained,
Excitements of my reason and my blood,
And let all sleep, while to my shame I see
The imminent death of twenty thousand men
That for a fantasy and trick of fame
Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
Which is not tomb enough and continent
To hide the slain? O, from this time forth
My thoughts be bloody or be nothing worth!

Summary

Hamlet's transformation soliloquy crystallizes his shift from melancholy to determined revenge. Watching Fortinbras march an entire army to certain death for "an eggshell" of land shames Hamlet into action. He contrasts Fortinbras's willingness to risk death for honor with his own hesitation: he has cause, will, strength, and means, yet delays. He accuses himself of "thinking too precisely"—his overthinking is cowardice masquerading as wisdom (three parts coward, one part wisdom). The soliloquy marks a turning point: Hamlet resolves that "from this time forth, / My thoughts be bloody or be nothing worth." This hardening of resolve coincides with the reported madness of Ophelia and her impending death, pushing the play toward its catastrophic ending.

Bonus: "Not a whit. We defy augury" (Act V, Scene 2)

Act V, Scene 2 | Hamlet comes to terms with his fate before the final duel

Context (Dialogue)

Hamlet's friend Horatio warns him that he senses something ominous about the fencing match Claudius has arranged. Hamlet responds with a newfound serenity, suggesting he has achieved acceptance of mortality and fate.

Text

Not a whit. We defy augury. There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come. The readiness is all. Since no man of aught he leaves knows, what is 't to leave betimes? Let be.

Summary

This brief statement represents Hamlet's final philosophical position: acceptance of fate and divine providence. Unlike the earlier soliloquies that wrestle with doubt, action, and the paralysis of consciousness, this passage shows Hamlet at peace. "The readiness is all"—what matters is not whether death comes now or later, but that one is prepared. This echoes the play's larger meditation on mortality and the limitations of human control. It provides a subtle resolution to his existential crisis, though not through action or revenge, but through acceptance.

Patterns and Progression

From Despair to Determination to Acceptance

The Problem of Consciousness and Action

All seven soliloquies circle the same fundamental problem: the gap between thought and action. Hamlet's curse is his consciousness—his ability to see all sides, to reason, to doubt, to philosophize. This very gift that makes him "godlike" in reason also paralyzes him. What distinguishes the later soliloquies is not resolution of this problem but rather different modes of coping: theatrical testing (III.2), theological scrupulosity (III.3), shame-driven determination (IV.4), and finally spiritual acceptance (V.2).

Language and Poetry

Hamlet's soliloquies are characterized by:
- Metaphysical complexity: abstract questions of existence, death, consciousness, mortality, and divine providence
- Violent imagery: the body dissolving, flesh rotting, blood flowing, damnation, poisoned swords
- Logical argument: premises, conclusions, self-rebuttal, and dialectical reasoning
- Colloquial vehemence mixed with abstraction: "Fie upon't!", "Foh!", explosive self-condemnation alongside philosophical meditation on the human condition
- Textual self-consciousness: References to language, tables, books, the stage—awareness of how words relate to reality

Cross-references