And, somehow, all our boasted resolution
Gets sicklied o’er with the pale cast of fear;
And enterprises, which we might have held
In great regard, must then be put aside,
Because, forsooth, “I’m married!”
William H. Edmunds.
Ophelia (aside)
Perhaps he will! Perhaps he won’t! Who knows? (pensively) How hard it is to make the men propose!
(Sighs and sits down away from Hamlet.)