Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2
(aside) Though this be madness, yet there is method in ’t.—(to HAMLET) Will you walk out of the air, my lord?
Into my grave.
Is there method in the tracks of the planets,
or mere pattern?
I am like a cold moon, stony, one side bright
and the other blackest night.
I hold little warmth from the light as it reflects
off my stony surface.
It’s true there is no dark side of the moon, really,
but there is a far side you never see.
Even the side I turn to you goes from light to dark
and back again at intervals,
A pattern, yes, of madness, but not a method,
for sadly, it’s beyond my control.