Read it through once

_Ham._ Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems. 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief, That can denote me truly: These, indeed, seem, For they are actions that a man might play. But I have that within which passeth show;[35] These but the trappings[36] and the suits of woe.