Humanities › Literature Best Non-Hamlet Monologues From "Hamlet" Share Flipboard Email Print Jehan Georges Vibert/Wikimedia Commons Literature Plays & Drama Monologues Basics & Advice Playwrights Play & Drama Reviews Improvisation Games and Activities Best Sellers Classic Literature Poetry Quotations Shakespeare Short Stories Children's Books By Wade Bradford Theater Expert M.A., Literature, California State University - Northridge B.A., Creative Writing, California State University - Northridge Wade Bradford, M.A., is an award-winning playwright and theater director. He wrote and directed seven productions for Yorba Linda Civic Light Opera's youth theater. our editorial process Wade Bradford Updated April 24, 2019 The best audition monologues from Shakespeare's most famous tragedy aren't all delivered by the title character. Sure, Hamlet does most of the talking, but in between his ranting pity parties, there are many other great speeches from the supporting characters. Here are three of the best non-Hamlet monologues from Hamlet. Gertrude Describes Ophelia's Death Poor Ophelia. First, she is dumped by her princely boyfriend Hamlet. And then her father is murdered! (By the same princely ex-boyfriend.) The young woman loses her mind, and in Act Four, Queen Gertrude delivers the sad news of how Ophelia's drowned. GERTRUDE:There is a willow grows aslant a brook,That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream.There with fantastic garlands did she comeOf crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them.There on the pendant boughs her coronet weedsClamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke,When down her weedy trophies and herselfFell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wideAnd, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up;Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes,As one incapable of her own distress,Or like a creature native and induedUnto that element; but long it could not beTill that her garments, heavy with their drink,Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious layTo muddy death. Polonius' Advice Before his son Laertes leaves the kingdom, Polonius offers a wide range of advice. Some of it has become quite famous. However, before you embrace all of these words of wisdom, keep in mind that Polonius is the biggest idiot in the play. POLONIUS:Yet here, Laertes? Aboard, aboard, for shame!The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,And you are stay'd for. There - my blessing with thee!And these few precepts in thy memoryLook thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar:Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel;But do not dull thy palm with entertainmentOf each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. BewareOf entrance to a quarrel; but being in,Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee.Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice;Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;For the apparel oft proclaims the man,And they in France of the best rank and stationAre most select and generous, chief in that.Neither a borrower nor a lender be;For loan oft loses both itself and friend,And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.This above all- to thine own self be true,And it must follow, as the night the day,Thou canst not then be false to any man.Farewell. My blessing season this in thee! Claudius' Confession For the first couple acts, the audience of Hamlet isn't sure if Hamlet's uncle King Claudius is the murderer. Sure, the ghost accuses him, but even Hamlet speculates that the spectre might actually be a demon who hopes to trick the prince. However, once Hamlet overhears Claudius confessing on his knees, that's when we finally get some more tangible (and less supernatural) evidence. CLAUDIUS:O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,A brother's murder! Pray can I not,Though inclination be as sharp as will.My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,And, like a man to double business bound,I stand in pause where I shall first begin,And both neglect. What if this cursed handWere thicker than itself with brother's blood,Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavensTo wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercyBut to confront the visage of offence?And what's in prayer but this twofold force,To be forestalled ere we come to fall,Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayerCan serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder'?That cannot be; since I am still possess'dOf those effects for which I did the murder-My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.May one be pardon'd and retain th' offence?In the corrupted currents of this worldOffence's gilded hand may shove by justice,And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itselfBuys out the law; but 'tis not so above.There is no shuffling; there the action liesIn his true nature, and we ourselves compell'd,Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,To give in evidence. What then? What rests?Try what repentance can. What can it not?Yet what can it when one cannot repent?O wretched state! O bosom black as death!O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,Art more engag'd! Help, angels! Make assay.Bow, stubborn knees; and heart with strings of steel,Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!All may be well.