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diff --git a/labb6/res/hamlet.txt b/labb6/res/hamlet.txt new file mode 100755 index 0000000..d6f4415 --- /dev/null +++ b/labb6/res/hamlet.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4463 @@ + +1604 + + +THE TRAGEDY OF HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK + + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + Claudius, King of Denmark. + Marcellus, Officer. + Hamlet, son to the former, and nephew to the present king. + Polonius, Lord Chamberlain. + Horatio, friend to Hamlet. + Laertes, son to Polonius. + Voltemand, courtier. + Cornelius, courtier. + Rosencrantz, courtier. + Guildenstern, courtier. + Osric, courtier. + A Gentleman, courtier. + A Priest. + Marcellus, officer. + Bernardo, officer. + Francisco, a soldier + Reynaldo, servant to Polonius. + Players. + Two Clowns, gravediggers. + Fortinbras, Prince of Norway. + A Norwegian Captain. + English Ambassadors. + + Getrude, Queen of Denmark, mother to Hamlet. + Ophelia, daughter to Polonius. + + Ghost of Hamlet's Father. + + Lords, ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers, Attendants. + + + + + +SCENE.- Elsinore. + + +ACT I. Scene I. +Elsinore. A platform before the Castle. + +Enter two Sentinels-[first,] Francisco, [who paces up and down +at his post; then] Bernardo, [who approaches him]. + + Ber. Who's there.? + Fran. Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself. + Ber. Long live the King! + Fran. Bernardo? + Ber. He. + Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour. + Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed, Francisco. + Fran. For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, + And I am sick at heart. + Ber. Have you had quiet guard? + Fran. Not a mouse stirring. + Ber. Well, good night. + If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, + The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. + + Enter Horatio and Marcellus. + + Fran. I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who is there? + Hor. Friends to this ground. + Mar. And liegemen to the Dane. + Fran. Give you good night. + Mar. O, farewell, honest soldier. + Who hath reliev'd you? + Fran. Bernardo hath my place. + Give you good night. Exit. + Mar. Holla, Bernardo! + Ber. Say- + What, is Horatio there ? + Hor. A piece of him. + Ber. Welcome, Horatio. Welcome, good Marcellus. + Mar. What, has this thing appear'd again to-night? + Ber. I have seen nothing. + Mar. Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy, + And will not let belief take hold of him + Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us. + Therefore I have entreated him along, + With us to watch the minutes of this night, + That, if again this apparition come, + He may approve our eyes and speak to it. + Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appear. + Ber. Sit down awhile, + And let us once again assail your ears, + That are so fortified against our story, + What we two nights have seen. + Hor. Well, sit we down, + And let us hear Bernardo speak of this. + Ber. Last night of all, + When yond same star that's westward from the pole + Had made his course t' illume that part of heaven + Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself, + The bell then beating one- + + Enter Ghost. + + Mar. Peace! break thee off! Look where it comes again! + Ber. In the same figure, like the King that's dead. + Mar. Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio. + Ber. Looks it not like the King? Mark it, Horatio. + Hor. Most like. It harrows me with fear and wonder. + Ber. It would be spoke to. + Mar. Question it, Horatio. + Hor. What art thou that usurp'st this time of night + Together with that fair and warlike form + In which the majesty of buried Denmark + Did sometimes march? By heaven I charge thee speak! + Mar. It is offended. + Ber. See, it stalks away! + Hor. Stay! Speak, speak! I charge thee speak! + Exit Ghost. + Mar. 'Tis gone and will not answer. + Ber. How now, Horatio? You tremble and look pale. + Is not this something more than fantasy? + What think you on't? + Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe + Without the sensible and true avouch + Of mine own eyes. + Mar. Is it not like the King? + Hor. As thou art to thyself. + Such was the very armour he had on + When he th' ambitious Norway combated. + So frown'd he once when, in an angry parle, + He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice. + 'Tis strange. + Mar. Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, + With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch. + Hor. In what particular thought to work I know not; + But, in the gross and scope of my opinion, + This bodes some strange eruption to our state. + Mar. Good now, sit down, and tell me he that knows, + Why this same strict and most observant watch + So nightly toils the subject of the land, + And why such daily cast of brazen cannon + And foreign mart for implements of war; + Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task + Does not divide the Sunday from the week. + What might be toward, that this sweaty haste + Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day? + Who is't that can inform me? + Hor. That can I. + At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king, + Whose image even but now appear'd to us, + Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway, + Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride, + Dar'd to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet + (For so this side of our known world esteem'd him) + Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a seal'd compact, + Well ratified by law and heraldry, + Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands + Which he stood seiz'd of, to the conqueror; + Against the which a moiety competent + Was gaged by our king; which had return'd + To the inheritance of Fortinbras, + Had he been vanquisher, as, by the same comart + And carriage of the article design'd, + His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras, + Of unimproved mettle hot and full, + Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there, + Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes, + For food and diet, to some enterprise + That hath a stomach in't; which is no other, + As it doth well appear unto our state, + But to recover of us, by strong hand + And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands + So by his father lost; and this, I take it, + Is the main motive of our preparations, + The source of this our watch, and the chief head + Of this post-haste and romage in the land. + Ber. I think it be no other but e'en so. + Well may it sort that this portentous figure + Comes armed through our watch, so like the King + That was and is the question of these wars. + Hor. A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye. + In the most high and palmy state of Rome, + A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, + The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead + Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets; + As stars with trains of fire, and dews of blood, + Disasters in the sun; and the moist star + Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands + Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse. + And even the like precurse of fierce events, + As harbingers preceding still the fates + And prologue to the omen coming on, + Have heaven and earth together demonstrated + Unto our climature and countrymen. + + Enter Ghost again. + + But soft! behold! Lo, where it comes again! + I'll cross it, though it blast me.- Stay illusion! + Spreads his arms. + If thou hast any sound, or use of voice, + Speak to me. + If there be any good thing to be done, + That may to thee do ease, and, race to me, + Speak to me. + If thou art privy to thy country's fate, + Which happily foreknowing may avoid, + O, speak! + Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life + Extorted treasure in the womb of earth + (For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death), + The cock crows. + Speak of it! Stay, and speak!- Stop it, Marcellus! + Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partisan? + Hor. Do, if it will not stand. + Ber. 'Tis here! + Hor. 'Tis here! + Mar. 'Tis gone! + Exit Ghost. + We do it wrong, being so majestical, + To offer it the show of violence; + For it is as the air, invulnerable, + And our vain blows malicious mockery. + Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew. + Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing + Upon a fearful summons. I have heard + The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, + Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat + Awake the god of day; and at his warning, + Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, + Th' extravagant and erring spirit hies + To his confine; and of the truth herein + This present object made probation. + Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock. + Some say that ever, 'gainst that season comes + Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, + The bird of dawning singeth all night long; + And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad, + The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, + No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, + So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. + Hor. So have I heard and do in part believe it. + But look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, + Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill. + Break we our watch up; and by my advice + Let us impart what we have seen to-night + Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life, + This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him. + Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it, + As needful in our loves, fitting our duty? + Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know + Where we shall find him most conveniently. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Elsinore. A room of state in the Castle. + +Flourish. [Enter Claudius, King of Denmark, Gertrude the Queen, Hamlet, +Polonius, Laertes and his sister Ophelia, [Voltemand, Cornelius,] +Lords Attendant. + + King. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death + The memory be green, and that it us befitted + To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom + To be contracted in one brow of woe, + Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature + That we with wisest sorrow think on him + Together with remembrance of ourselves. + Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, + Th' imperial jointress to this warlike state, + Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy, + With an auspicious, and a dropping eye, + With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage, + In equal scale weighing delight and dole, + Taken to wife; nor have we herein barr'd + Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone + With this affair along. For all, our thanks. + Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras, + Holding a weak supposal of our worth, + Or thinking by our late dear brother's death + Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, + Colleagued with this dream of his advantage, + He hath not fail'd to pester us with message + Importing the surrender of those lands + Lost by his father, with all bands of law, + To our most valiant brother. So much for him. + Now for ourself and for this time of meeting. + Thus much the business is: we have here writ + To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras, + Who, impotent and bedrid, scarcely hears + Of this his nephew's purpose, to suppress + His further gait herein, in that the levies, + The lists, and full proportions are all made + Out of his subject; and we here dispatch + You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltemand, + For bearers of this greeting to old Norway, + Giving to you no further personal power + To business with the King, more than the scope + Of these dilated articles allow. [Gives a paper.] + Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty. + Cor., Volt. In that, and all things, will we show our duty. + King. We doubt it nothing. Heartily farewell. + Exeunt Voltemand and Cornelius. + And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? + You told us of some suit. What is't, Laertes? + You cannot speak of reason to the Dane + And lose your voice. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes, + That shall not be my offer, not thy asking? + The head is not more native to the heart, + The hand more instrumental to the mouth, + Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. + What wouldst thou have, Laertes? + Laer. My dread lord, + Your leave and favour to return to France; + From whence though willingly I came to Denmark + To show my duty in your coronation, + Yet now I must confess, that duty done, + My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France + And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon. + King. Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius? + Pol. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave + By laboursome petition, and at last + Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent. + I do beseech you give him leave to go. + King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes. Time be thine, + And thy best graces spend it at thy will! + But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son- + Ham. [aside] A little more than kin, and less than kind! + King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you? + Ham. Not so, my lord. I am too much i' th' sun. + Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, + And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. + Do not for ever with thy vailed lids + Seek for thy noble father in the dust. + Thou know'st 'tis common. All that lives must die, + Passing through nature to eternity. + Ham. Ay, madam, it is common. + Queen. If it be, + Why seems it so particular with thee? + Ham. Seems, madam, Nay, it is. I know not 'seems.' + 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, + Nor customary suits of solemn black, + Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, + No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, + Nor the dejected havior of the visage, + Together with all forms, moods, shapes 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- + These but the trappings and the suits of woe. + King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, + To give these mourning duties to your father; + But you must know, your father lost a father; + That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound + In filial obligation for some term + To do obsequious sorrow. But to persever + In obstinate condolement is a course + Of impious stubbornness. 'Tis unmanly grief; + It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, + A heart unfortified, a mind impatient, + An understanding simple and unschool'd; + For what we know must be, and is as common + As any the most vulgar thing to sense, + Why should we in our peevish opposition + Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven, + A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, + To reason most absurd, whose common theme + Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried, + From the first corse till he that died to-day, + 'This must be so.' We pray you throw to earth + This unprevailing woe, and think of us + As of a father; for let the world take note + You are the most immediate to our throne, + And with no less nobility of love + Than that which dearest father bears his son + Do I impart toward you. For your intent + In going back to school in Wittenberg, + It is most retrograde to our desire; + And we beseech you, bend you to remain + Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye, + Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son. + Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet. + I pray thee stay with us, go not to Wittenberg. + Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam. + King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply. + Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come. + This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet + Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof, + No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day + But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell, + And the King's rouse the heaven shall bruit again, + Respeaking earthly thunder. Come away. + Flourish. Exeunt all but Hamlet. + Ham. 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! God! + How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable + Seem to me all the uses of this world! + Fie on't! ah, 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 my 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! + + Enter Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo. + + Hor. Hail to your lordship! + Ham. I am glad to see you well. + Horatio!- or I do forget myself. + Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. + Ham. Sir, my good friend- I'll change that name with you. + And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? + Marcellus? + Mar. My good lord! + Ham. I am very glad to see you.- [To Bernardo] Good even, sir.- + But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg? + Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord. + Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so, + Nor shall you do my ear that violence + To make it truster of your own report + Against yourself. I know you are no truant. + But what is your affair in Elsinore? + We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. + Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. + Ham. I prithee do not mock me, fellow student. + I think it was to see my mother's wedding. + Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon. + Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats + Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. + Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven + Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio! + My father- methinks I see my father. + Hor. O, where, my lord? + Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio. + Hor. I saw him once. He was a goodly king. + Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all. + I shall not look upon his like again. + Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight. + Ham. Saw? who? + Hor. My lord, the King your father. + Ham. The King my father? + Hor. Season your admiration for a while + With an attent ear, till I may deliver + Upon the witness of these gentlemen, + This marvel to you. + Ham. For God's love let me hear! + Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen + (Marcellus and Bernardo) on their watch + In the dead vast and middle of the night + Been thus encount'red. A figure like your father, + Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe, + Appears before them and with solemn march + Goes slow and stately by them. Thrice he walk'd + By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes, + Within his truncheon's length; whilst they distill'd + Almost to jelly with the act of fear, + Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me + In dreadful secrecy impart they did, + And I with them the third night kept the watch; + Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time, + Form of the thing, each word made true and good, + The apparition comes. I knew your father. + These hands are not more like. + Ham. But where was this? + Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd. + Ham. Did you not speak to it? + Hor. My lord, I did; + But answer made it none. Yet once methought + It lifted up it head and did address + Itself to motion, like as it would speak; + But even then the morning cock crew loud, + And at the sound it shrunk in haste away + And vanish'd from our sight. + Ham. 'Tis very strange. + Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true; + And we did think it writ down in our duty + To let you know of it. + Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs. But this troubles me. + Hold you the watch to-night? + Both [Mar. and Ber.] We do, my lord. + Ham. Arm'd, say you? + Both. Arm'd, my lord. + Ham. From top to toe? + Both. My lord, from head to foot. + Ham. Then saw you not his face? + Hor. O, yes, my lord! He wore his beaver up. + Ham. What, look'd he frowningly. + Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. + Ham. Pale or red? + Hor. Nay, very pale. + Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you? + Hor. Most constantly. + Ham. I would I had been there. + Hor. It would have much amaz'd you. + Ham. Very like, very like. Stay'd it long? + Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred. + Both. Longer, longer. + Hor. Not when I saw't. + Ham. His beard was grizzled- no? + Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, + A sable silver'd. + Ham. I will watch to-night. + Perchance 'twill walk again. + Hor. I warr'nt it will. + Ham. If it assume my noble father's person, + I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape + And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, + If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, + Let it be tenable in your silence still; + And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, + Give it an understanding but no tongue. + I will requite your loves. So, fare you well. + Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve, + I'll visit you. + All. Our duty to your honour. + Ham. Your loves, as mine to you. Farewell. + Exeunt [all but Hamlet]. + My father's spirit- in arms? All is not well. + I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come! + Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise, + Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. +Exit. + + + + +Scene III. +Elsinore. A room in the house of Polonius. + +Enter Laertes and Ophelia. + + Laer. My necessaries are embark'd. Farewell. + And, sister, as the winds give benefit + And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, + But let me hear from you. + Oph. Do you doubt that? + Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, + Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood; + A violet in the youth of primy nature, + Forward, not permanent- sweet, not lasting; + The perfume and suppliance of a minute; + No more. + Oph. No more but so? + Laer. Think it no more. + For nature crescent does not grow alone + In thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes, + The inward service of the mind and soul + Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now, + And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch + The virtue of his will; but you must fear, + His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own; + For he himself is subject to his birth. + He may not, as unvalued persons do, + Carve for himself, for on his choice depends + The safety and health of this whole state, + And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd + Unto the voice and yielding of that body + Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you, + It fits your wisdom so far to believe it + As he in his particular act and place + May give his saying deed; which is no further + Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. + Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain + If with too credent ear you list his songs, + Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open + To his unmast'red importunity. + Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister, + And keep you in the rear of your affection, + Out of the shot and danger of desire. + The chariest maid is prodigal enough + If she unmask her beauty to the moon. + Virtue itself scopes not calumnious strokes. + The canker galls the infants of the spring + Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd, + And in the morn and liquid dew of youth + Contagious blastments are most imminent. + Be wary then; best safety lies in fear. + Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. + Oph. I shall th' effect of this good lesson keep + As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother, + Do not as some ungracious pastors do, + Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven, + Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, + Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads + And recks not his own rede. + Laer. O, fear me not! + + Enter Polonius. + + I stay too long. But here my father comes. + A double blessing is a double grace; + Occasion smiles upon a second leave. + Pol. 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 memory + Look 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 entertainment + Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware + Of 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 station + Are 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! + Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. + Pol. The time invites you. Go, your servants tend. + Laer. Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well + What I have said to you. + Oph. 'Tis in my memory lock'd, + And you yourself shall keep the key of it. + Laer. Farewell. Exit. + Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you? + Oph. So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet. + Pol. Marry, well bethought! + 'Tis told me he hath very oft of late + Given private time to you, and you yourself + Have of your audience been most free and bounteous. + If it be so- as so 'tis put on me, + And that in way of caution- I must tell you + You do not understand yourself so clearly + As it behooves my daughter and your honour. + What is between you? Give me up the truth. + Oph. He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders + Of his affection to me. + Pol. Affection? Pooh! You speak like a green girl, + Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. + Do you believe his tenders, as you call them? + Oph. I do not know, my lord, what I should think, + Pol. Marry, I will teach you! Think yourself a baby + That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay, + Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly, + Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, + Running it thus) you'll tender me a fool. + Oph. My lord, he hath importun'd me with love + In honourable fashion. + Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it. Go to, go to! + Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, + With almost all the holy vows of heaven. + Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks! I do know, + When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul + Lends the tongue vows. These blazes, daughter, + Giving more light than heat, extinct in both + Even in their promise, as it is a-making, + You must not take for fire. From this time + Be something scanter of your maiden presence. + Set your entreatments at a higher rate + Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet, + Believe so much in him, that he is young, + And with a larger tether may he walk + Than may be given you. In few, Ophelia, + Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers, + Not of that dye which their investments show, + But mere implorators of unholy suits, + Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds, + The better to beguile. This is for all: + I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth + Have you so slander any moment leisure + As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet. + Look to't, I charge you. Come your ways. + Oph. I shall obey, my lord. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene IV. +Elsinore. The platform before the Castle. + +Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus. + + Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold. + Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air. + Ham. What hour now? + Hor. I think it lacks of twelve. + Mar. No, it is struck. + Hor. Indeed? I heard it not. It then draws near the season + Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. + A flourish of trumpets, and two pieces go off. + What does this mean, my lord? + Ham. The King doth wake to-night and takes his rouse, + Keeps wassail, and the swagg'ring upspring reels, + And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, + The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out + The triumph of his pledge. + Hor. Is it a custom? + Ham. Ay, marry, is't; + But to my mind, though I am native here + And to the manner born, it is a custom + More honour'd in the breach than the observance. + This heavy-headed revel east and west + Makes us traduc'd and tax'd of other nations; + They clip us drunkards and with swinish phrase + Soil our addition; and indeed it takes + From our achievements, though perform'd at height, + The pith and marrow of our attribute. + So oft it chances in particular men + That, for some vicious mole of nature in them, + As in their birth,- wherein they are not guilty, + Since nature cannot choose his origin,- + By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, + Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, + Or by some habit that too much o'erleavens + The form of plausive manners, that these men + Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, + Being nature's livery, or fortune's star, + Their virtues else- be they as pure as grace, + As infinite as man may undergo- + Shall in the general censure take corruption + From that particular fault. The dram of e'il + Doth all the noble substance often dout To his own scandal. + + Enter Ghost. + + Hor. Look, my lord, it comes! + Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us! + Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd, + Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, + Be thy intents wicked or charitable, + Thou com'st in such a questionable shape + That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet, + King, father, royal Dane. O, answer me? + Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell + Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death, + Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre + Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, + Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws + To cast thee up again. What may this mean + That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, + Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon, + Making night hideous, and we fools of nature + So horridly to shake our disposition + With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? + Say, why is this? wherefore? What should we do? + Ghost beckons Hamlet. + Hor. It beckons you to go away with it, + As if it some impartment did desire + To you alone. + Mar. Look with what courteous action + It waves you to a more removed ground. + But do not go with it! + Hor. No, by no means! + Ham. It will not speak. Then will I follow it. + Hor. Do not, my lord! + Ham. Why, what should be the fear? + I do not set my life at a pin's fee; + And for my soul, what can it do to that, + Being a thing immortal as itself? + It waves me forth again. I'll follow it. + Hor. What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, + Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff + That beetles o'er his base into the sea, + And there assume some other, horrible form + Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason + And draw you into madness? Think of it. + The very place puts toys of desperation, + Without more motive, into every brain + That looks so many fadoms to the sea + And hears it roar beneath. + Ham. It waves me still. + Go on. I'll follow thee. + Mar. You shall not go, my lord. + Ham. Hold off your hands! + Hor. Be rul'd. You shall not go. + Ham. My fate cries out + And makes each petty artire in this body + As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. + [Ghost beckons.] + Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen. + By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!- + I say, away!- Go on. I'll follow thee. + Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet. + Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination. + Mar. Let's follow. 'Tis not fit thus to obey him. + Hor. Have after. To what issue wail this come? + Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. + Hor. Heaven will direct it. + Mar. Nay, let's follow him. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene V. +Elsinore. The Castle. Another part of the fortifications. + +Enter Ghost and Hamlet. + + Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak! I'll go no further. + Ghost. Mark me. + Ham. I will. + Ghost. My hour is almost come, + When I to sulph'rous and tormenting flames + Must render up myself. + Ham. Alas, poor ghost! + Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing + To what I shall unfold. + Ham. Speak. I am bound to hear. + Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear. + Ham. What? + Ghost. I am thy father's spirit, + Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, + And for the day confin'd to fast in fires, + Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature + Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid + To tell the secrets of my prison house, + I could a tale unfold whose lightest word + Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, + Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, + Thy knotted and combined locks to part, + And each particular hair to stand an end + Like quills upon the fretful porpentine. + But this eternal blazon must not be + To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list! + If thou didst ever thy dear father love- + Ham. O God! + Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murther. + Ham. Murther? + Ghost. Murther most foul, as in the best it is; + But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. + Ham. Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift + As meditation or the thoughts of love, + May sweep to my revenge. + Ghost. I find thee apt; + And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed + That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, + Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear. + 'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, + A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark + Is by a forged process of my death + Rankly abus'd. But know, thou noble youth, + The serpent that did sting thy father's life + Now wears his crown. + Ham. O my prophetic soul! + My uncle? + Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, + With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts- + O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power + So to seduce!- won to his shameful lust + The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen. + O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there, + From me, whose love was of that dignity + That it went hand in hand even with the vow + I made to her in marriage, and to decline + Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor + To those of mine! + But virtue, as it never will be mov'd, + Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven, + So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd, + Will sate itself in a celestial bed + And prey on garbage. + But soft! methinks I scent the morning air. + Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard, + My custom always of the afternoon, + Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, + With juice of cursed hebona in a vial, + And in the porches of my ears did pour + The leperous distilment; whose effect + Holds such an enmity with blood of man + That swift as quicksilverr it courses through + The natural gates and alleys of the body, + And with a sudden vigour it doth posset + And curd, like eager droppings into milk, + The thin and wholesome blood. So did it mine; + And a most instant tetter bark'd about, + Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust + All my smooth body. + Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand + Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd; + Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, + Unhous'led, disappointed, unanel'd, + No reckoning made, but sent to my account + With all my imperfections on my head. + Ham. O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible! + Ghost. If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not. + Let not the royal bed of Denmark be + A couch for luxury and damned incest. + But, howsoever thou pursuest this act, + Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive + Against thy mother aught. Leave her to heaven, + And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge + To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once. + The glowworm shows the matin to be near + And gins to pale his uneffectual fire. + Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me. Exit. + Ham. O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else? + And shall I couple hell? Hold, hold, my heart! + And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, + But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee? + Ay, thou poor ghost, while 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, + Unmix'd with baser matter. Yes, by heaven! + O most pernicious woman! + O villain, villain, smiling, damned 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. [Writes.] + So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word: + It is 'Adieu, adieu! Remember me.' + I have sworn't. + Hor. (within) My lord, my lord! + + Enter Horatio and Marcellus. + + Mar. Lord Hamlet! + Hor. Heaven secure him! + Ham. So be it! + Mar. Illo, ho, ho, my lord! + Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! Come, bird, come. + Mar. How is't, my noble lord? + Hor. What news, my lord? + Mar. O, wonderful! + Hor. Good my lord, tell it. + Ham. No, you will reveal it. + Hor. Not I, my lord, by heaven! + Mar. Nor I, my lord. + Ham. How say you then? Would heart of man once think it? + But you'll be secret? + Both. Ay, by heaven, my lord. + Ham. There's neer a villain dwelling in all Denmark + But he's an arrant knave. + Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave + To tell us this. + Ham. Why, right! You are in the right! + And so, without more circumstance at all, + I hold it fit that we shake hands and part; + You, as your business and desires shall point you, + For every man hath business and desire, + Such as it is; and for my own poor part, + Look you, I'll go pray. + Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my lord. + Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily; + Yes, faith, heartily. + Hor. There's no offence, my lord. + Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, + And much offence too. Touching this vision here, + It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you. + For your desire to know what is between us, + O'ermaster't as you may. And now, good friends, + As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, + Give me one poor request. + Hor. What is't, my lord? We will. + Ham. Never make known what you have seen to-night. + Both. My lord, we will not. + Ham. Nay, but swear't. + Hor. In faith, + My lord, not I. + Mar. Nor I, my lord- in faith. + Ham. Upon my sword. + Mar. We have sworn, my lord, already. + Ham. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. + + Ghost cries under the stage. + + Ghost. Swear. + Ham. Aha boy, say'st thou so? Art thou there, truepenny? + Come on! You hear this fellow in the cellarage. + Consent to swear. + Hor. Propose the oath, my lord. + Ham. Never to speak of this that you have seen. + Swear by my sword. + Ghost. [beneath] Swear. + Ham. Hic et ubique? Then we'll shift our ground. + Come hither, gentlemen, + And lay your hands again upon my sword. + Never to speak of this that you have heard: + Swear by my sword. + Ghost. [beneath] Swear by his sword. + Ham. Well said, old mole! Canst work i' th' earth so fast? + A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends." + Hor. O day and night, but this is wondrous strange! + Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. + There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, + Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. + But come! + Here, as before, never, so help you mercy, + How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself + (As I perchance hereafter shall think meet + To put an antic disposition on), + That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, + With arms encumb'red thus, or this head-shake, + Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, + As 'Well, well, we know,' or 'We could, an if we would,' + Or 'If we list to speak,' or 'There be, an if they might,' + Or such ambiguous giving out, to note + That you know aught of me- this is not to do, + So grace and mercy at your most need help you, + Swear. + Ghost. [beneath] Swear. + [They swear.] + Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So, gentlemen, + With all my love I do commend me to you; + And what so poor a man as Hamlet is + May do t' express his love and friending to you, + God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together; + And still your fingers on your lips, I pray. + The time is out of joint. O cursed spite + That ever I was born to set it right! + Nay, come, let's go together. + Exeunt. + + + + +Act II. Scene I. +Elsinore. A room in the house of Polonius. + +Enter Polonius and Reynaldo. + + Pol. Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo. + Rey. I will, my lord. + Pol. You shall do marvell's wisely, good Reynaldo, + Before You visit him, to make inquire + Of his behaviour. + Rey. My lord, I did intend it. + Pol. Marry, well said, very well said. Look you, sir, + Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; + And how, and who, what means, and where they keep, + What company, at what expense; and finding + By this encompassment and drift of question + That they do know my son, come you more nearer + Than your particular demands will touch it. + Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him; + As thus, 'I know his father and his friends, + And in part him.' Do you mark this, Reynaldo? + Rey. Ay, very well, my lord. + Pol. 'And in part him, but,' you may say, 'not well. + But if't be he I mean, he's very wild + Addicted so and so'; and there put on him + What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank + As may dishonour him- take heed of that; + But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips + As are companions noted and most known + To youth and liberty. + Rey. As gaming, my lord. + Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling, + Drabbing. You may go so far. + Rey. My lord, that would dishonour him. + Pol. Faith, no, as you may season it in the charge. + You must not put another scandal on him, + That he is open to incontinency. + That's not my meaning. But breathe his faults so quaintly + That they may seem the taints of liberty, + The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind, + A savageness in unreclaimed blood, + Of general assault. + Rey. But, my good lord- + Pol. Wherefore should you do this? + Rey. Ay, my lord, + I would know that. + Pol. Marry, sir, here's my drift, + And I believe it is a fetch of warrant. + You laying these slight sullies on my son + As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' th' working, + Mark you, + Your party in converse, him you would sound, + Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes + The youth you breathe of guilty, be assur'd + He closes with you in this consequence: + 'Good sir,' or so, or 'friend,' or 'gentleman'- + According to the phrase or the addition + Of man and country- + Rey. Very good, my lord. + Pol. And then, sir, does 'a this- 'a does- What was I about to say? + By the mass, I was about to say something! Where did I leave? + Rey. At 'closes in the consequence,' at 'friend or so,' and + gentleman.' + Pol. At 'closes in the consequence'- Ay, marry! + He closes thus: 'I know the gentleman. + I saw him yesterday, or t'other day, + Or then, or then, with such or such; and, as you say, + There was 'a gaming; there o'ertook in's rouse; + There falling out at tennis'; or perchance, + 'I saw him enter such a house of sale,' + Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth. + See you now- + Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth; + And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, + With windlasses and with assays of bias, + By indirections find directions out. + So, by my former lecture and advice, + Shall you my son. You have me, have you not + Rey. My lord, I have. + Pol. God b' wi' ye, fare ye well! + Rey. Good my lord! [Going.] + Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself. + Rey. I shall, my lord. + Pol. And let him ply his music. + Rey. Well, my lord. + Pol. Farewell! + Exit Reynaldo. + + Enter Ophelia. + + How now, Ophelia? What's the matter? + Oph. O my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted! + Pol. With what, i' th' name of God I + Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, + Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd, + No hat upon his head, his stockings foul'd, + Ungart'red, and down-gyved to his ankle; + Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other, + And with a look so piteous in purport + As if he had been loosed out of hell + To speak of horrors- he comes before me. + Pol. Mad for thy love? + Oph. My lord, I do not know, + But truly I do fear it. + Pol. What said he? + Oph. He took me by the wrist and held me hard; + Then goes he to the length of all his arm, + And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow, + He falls to such perusal of my face + As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so. + At last, a little shaking of mine arm, + And thrice his head thus waving up and down, + He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound + As it did seem to shatter all his bulk + And end his being. That done, he lets me go, + And with his head over his shoulder turn'd + He seem'd to find his way without his eyes, + For out o' doors he went without their help + And to the last bended their light on me. + Pol. Come, go with me. I will go seek the King. + This is the very ecstasy of love, + Whose violent property fordoes itself + And leads the will to desperate undertakings + As oft as any passion under heaven + That does afflict our natures. I am sorry. + What, have you given him any hard words of late? + Oph. No, my good lord; but, as you did command, + I did repel his letters and denied + His access to me. + Pol. That hath made him mad. + I am sorry that with better heed and judgment + I had not quoted him. I fear'd he did but trifle + And meant to wrack thee; but beshrew my jealousy! + By heaven, it is as proper to our age + To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions + As it is common for the younger sort + To lack discretion. Come, go we to the King. + This must be known; which, being kept close, might move + More grief to hide than hate to utter love. + Come. + Exeunt. + +Scene II. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Flourish. [Enter King and Queen, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, cum aliis. + + King. Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + Moreover that we much did long to see you, + The need we have to use you did provoke + Our hasty sending. Something have you heard + Of Hamlet's transformation. So I call it, + Sith nor th' exterior nor the inward man + Resembles that it was. What it should be, + More than his father's death, that thus hath put him + So much from th' understanding of himself, + I cannot dream of. I entreat you both + That, being of so young clays brought up with him, + And since so neighbour'd to his youth and haviour, + That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court + Some little time; so by your companies + To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather + So much as from occasion you may glean, + Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him thus + That, open'd, lies within our remedy. + Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you, + And sure I am two men there are not living + To whom he more adheres. If it will please you + To show us so much gentry and good will + As to expend your time with us awhile + For the supply and profit of our hope, + Your visitation shall receive such thanks + As fits a king's remembrance. + Ros. Both your Majesties + Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, + Put your dread pleasures more into command + Than to entreaty. + Guil. But we both obey, + And here give up ourselves, in the full bent, + To lay our service freely at your feet, + To be commanded. + King. Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern. + Queen. Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz. + And I beseech you instantly to visit + My too much changed son.- Go, some of you, + And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is. + Guil. Heavens make our presence and our practices + Pleasant and helpful to him! + Queen. Ay, amen! + Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, [with some + Attendants]. + + Enter Polonius. + + Pol. Th' ambassadors from Norway, my good lord, + Are joyfully return'd. + King. Thou still hast been the father of good news. + Pol. Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege, + I hold my duty as I hold my soul, + Both to my God and to my gracious king; + And I do think- or else this brain of mine + Hunts not the trail of policy so sure + As it hath us'd to do- that I have found + The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy. + King. O, speak of that! That do I long to hear. + Pol. Give first admittance to th' ambassadors. + My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. + King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in. + [Exit Polonius.] + He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found + The head and source of all your son's distemper. + Queen. I doubt it is no other but the main, + His father's death and our o'erhasty marriage. + King. Well, we shall sift him. + + Enter Polonius, Voltemand, and Cornelius. + + Welcome, my good friends. + Say, Voltemand, what from our brother Norway? + Volt. Most fair return of greetings and desires. + Upon our first, he sent out to suppress + His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd + To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack, + But better look'd into, he truly found + It was against your Highness; whereat griev'd, + That so his sickness, age, and impotence + Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests + On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys, + Receives rebuke from Norway, and, in fine, + Makes vow before his uncle never more + To give th' assay of arms against your Majesty. + Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy, + Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee + And his commission to employ those soldiers, + So levied as before, against the Polack; + With an entreaty, herein further shown, + [Gives a paper.] + That it might please you to give quiet pass + Through your dominions for this enterprise, + On such regards of safety and allowance + As therein are set down. + King. It likes us well; + And at our more consider'd time we'll read, + Answer, and think upon this business. + Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour. + Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together. + Most welcome home! Exeunt Ambassadors. + Pol. This business is well ended. + My liege, and madam, to expostulate + What majesty should be, what duty is, + Why day is day, night is night, and time is time. + Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time. + Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, + And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, + I will be brief. Your noble son is mad. + Mad call I it; for, to define true madness, + What is't but to be nothing else but mad? + But let that go. + Queen. More matter, with less art. + Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all. + That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity; + And pity 'tis 'tis true. A foolish figure! + But farewell it, for I will use no art. + Mad let us grant him then. And now remains + That we find out the cause of this effect- + Or rather say, the cause of this defect, + For this effect defective comes by cause. + Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. + Perpend. + I have a daughter (have while she is mine), + Who in her duty and obedience, mark, + Hath given me this. Now gather, and surmise. + [Reads] the letter. + 'To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified + Ophelia,'- + + That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; 'beautified' is a vile + phrase. + But you shall hear. Thus: + [Reads.] + 'In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.' + Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her? + Pol. Good madam, stay awhile. I will be faithful. [Reads.] + + 'Doubt thou the stars are fire; + Doubt that the sun doth move; + Doubt truth to be a liar; + But never doubt I love. + 'O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art to + reckon my groans; but that I love thee best, O most best, believe + it. Adieu. + 'Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him, + HAMLET.' + + This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me; + And more above, hath his solicitings, + As they fell out by time, by means, and place, + All given to mine ear. + King. But how hath she + Receiv'd his love? + Pol. What do you think of me? + King. As of a man faithful and honourable. + Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might you think, + When I had seen this hot love on the wing + (As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that, + Before my daughter told me), what might you, + Or my dear Majesty your queen here, think, + If I had play'd the desk or table book, + Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb, + Or look'd upon this love with idle sight? + What might you think? No, I went round to work + And my young mistress thus I did bespeak: + 'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star. + This must not be.' And then I prescripts gave her, + That she should lock herself from his resort, + Admit no messengers, receive no tokens. + Which done, she took the fruits of my advice, + And he, repulsed, a short tale to make, + Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, + Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, + Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension, + Into the madness wherein now he raves, + And all we mourn for. + King. Do you think 'tis this? + Queen. it may be, very like. + Pol. Hath there been such a time- I would fain know that- + That I have Positively said ''Tis so,' + When it prov'd otherwise.? + King. Not that I know. + Pol. [points to his head and shoulder] Take this from this, if this + be otherwise. + If circumstances lead me, I will find + Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed + Within the centre. + King. How may we try it further? + Pol. You know sometimes he walks four hours together + Here in the lobby. + Queen. So he does indeed. + Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him. + Be you and I behind an arras then. + Mark the encounter. If he love her not, + And he not from his reason fall'n thereon + Let me be no assistant for a state, + But keep a farm and carters. + King. We will try it. + + Enter Hamlet, reading on a book. + + Queen. But look where sadly the poor wretch comes reading. + Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away + I'll board him presently. O, give me leave. + Exeunt King and Queen, [with Attendants]. + How does my good Lord Hamlet? + Ham. Well, God-a-mercy. + Pol. Do you know me, my lord? + Ham. Excellent well. You are a fishmonger. + Pol. Not I, my lord. + Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man. + Pol. Honest, my lord? + Ham. Ay, sir. To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man + pick'd out of ten thousand. + Pol. That's very true, my lord. + Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god + kissing carrion- Have you a daughter? + Pol. I have, my lord. + Ham. Let her not walk i' th' sun. Conception is a blessing, but not + as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to't. + Pol. [aside] How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter. Yet + he knew me not at first. He said I was a fishmonger. He is far + gone, far gone! And truly in my youth I suff'red much extremity + for love- very near this. I'll speak to him again.- What do you + read, my lord? + Ham. Words, words, words. + Pol. What is the matter, my lord? + Ham. Between who? + Pol. I mean, the matter that you read, my lord. + Ham. Slanders, sir; for the satirical rogue says here that old men + have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes + purging thick amber and plum-tree gum; and that they have a + plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams. All which, + sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it + not honesty to have it thus set down; for you yourself, sir, + should be old as I am if, like a crab, you could go backward. + Pol. [aside] Though this be madness, yet there is a method in't.- + Will You walk out of the air, my lord? + Ham. Into my grave? + Pol. Indeed, that is out o' th' air. [Aside] How pregnant sometimes + his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which + reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I + will leave him and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between + him and my daughter.- My honourable lord, I will most humbly take + my leave of you. + Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more + willingly part withal- except my life, except my life, except my + life, + + Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + Pol. Fare you well, my lord. + Ham. These tedious old fools! + Pol. You go to seek the Lord Hamlet. There he is. + Ros. [to Polonius] God save you, sir! + Exit [Polonius]. + Guil. My honour'd lord! + Ros. My most dear lord! + Ham. My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, + Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both? + Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth. + Guil. Happy in that we are not over-happy. + On Fortune's cap we are not the very button. + Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe? + Ros. Neither, my lord. + Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her + favours? + Guil. Faith, her privates we. + Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? O! most true! she is a + strumpet. What news ? + Ros. None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest. + Ham. Then is doomsday near! But your news is not true. Let me + question more in particular. What have you, my good friends, + deserved at the hands of Fortune that she sends you to prison + hither? + Guil. Prison, my lord? + Ham. Denmark's a prison. + Ros. Then is the world one. + Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and + dungeons, Denmark being one o' th' worst. + Ros. We think not so, my lord. + Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good + or bad but thinking makes it so. To me it is a prison. + Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one. 'Tis too narrow for your + mind. + Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a + king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams. + Guil. Which dreams indeed are ambition; for the very substance of + the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. + Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow. + Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that + it is but a shadow's shadow. + Ham. Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretch'd + heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we to th' court? for, by my + fay, I cannot reason. + Both. We'll wait upon you. + Ham. No such matter! I will not sort you with the rest of my + servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most + dreadfully attended. But in the beaten way of friendship, what + make you at Elsinore? + Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion. + Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you; + and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny. Were + you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free + visitation? Come, deal justly with me. Come, come! Nay, speak. + Guil. What should we say, my lord? + Ham. Why, anything- but to th' purpose. You were sent for; and + there is a kind of confession in your looks, which your modesties + have not craft enough to colour. I know the good King and Queen + have sent for you. + Ros. To what end, my lord? + Ham. That you must teach me. But let me conjure you by the rights + of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the + obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a + better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with + me, whether you were sent for or no. + Ros. [aside to Guildenstern] What say you? + Ham. [aside] Nay then, I have an eye of you.- If you love me, hold + not off. + Guil. My lord, we were sent for. + Ham. I will tell you why. So shall my anticipation prevent your + discovery, and your secrecy to the King and Queen moult no + feather. I have of late- but wherefore I know not- lost all my + mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so + heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, + seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the + air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical + roof fretted with golden fire- why, it appeareth no other thing + to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a + piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in + faculties! in form and moving how express and admirable! in + action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the + beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! And yet to me what + is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me- no, nor woman + neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so. + Ros. My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts. + Ham. Why did you laugh then, when I said 'Man delights not me'? + Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten + entertainment the players shall receive from you. We coted them + on the way, and hither are they coming to offer you service. + Ham. He that plays the king shall be welcome- his Majesty shall + have tribute of me; the adventurous knight shall use his foil and + target; the lover shall not sigh gratis; the humorous man shall + end his part in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose + lungs are tickle o' th' sere; and the lady shall say her mind + freely, or the blank verse shall halt fort. What players are + they? + Ros. Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the + tragedians of the city. + Ham. How chances it they travel? Their residence, both in + reputation and profit, was better both ways. + Ros. I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late + innovation. + Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the + city? Are they so follow'd? + Ros. No indeed are they not. + Ham. How comes it? Do they grow rusty? + Ros. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace; but there is, + sir, an eyrie of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top + of question and are most tyrannically clapp'd fort. These are now + the fashion, and so berattle the common stages (so they call + them) that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goosequills and + dare scarce come thither. + Ham. What, are they children? Who maintains 'em? How are they + escoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can + sing? Will they not say afterwards, if they should grow + themselves to common players (as it is most like, if their means + are no better), their writers do them wrong to make them exclaim + against their own succession. + Ros. Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and the nation + holds it no sin to tarre them to controversy. There was, for a + while, no money bid for argument unless the poet and the player + went to cuffs in the question. + Ham. Is't possible? + Guil. O, there has been much throwing about of brains. + Ham. Do the boys carry it away? + Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord- Hercules and his load too. + Ham. It is not very strange; for my uncle is King of Denmark, and + those that would make mows at him while my father lived give + twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred ducats apiece for his picture in + little. 'Sblood, there is something in this more than natural, if + philosophy could find it out. + + Flourish for the Players. + + Guil. There are the players. + Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, come! Th' + appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony. Let me comply + with you in this garb, lest my extent to the players (which I + tell you must show fairly outwards) should more appear like + entertainment than yours. You are welcome. But my uncle-father + and aunt-mother are deceiv'd. + Guil. In what, my dear lord? + Ham. I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly I + know a hawk from a handsaw. + + Enter Polonius. + + Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen! + Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern- and you too- at each ear a hearer! + That great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling + clouts. + Ros. Happily he's the second time come to them; for they say an old + man is twice a child. + Ham. I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players. Mark it.- + You say right, sir; a Monday morning; twas so indeed. + Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you. + Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you. When Roscius was an actor in + Rome- + Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord. + Ham. Buzz, buzz! + Pol. Upon my honour- + Ham. Then came each actor on his ass- + Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, + history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, + tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral; scene + individable, or poem unlimited. Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor + Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are + the only men. + Ham. O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou! + Pol. What treasure had he, my lord? + Ham. Why, + + 'One fair daughter, and no more, + The which he loved passing well.' + + Pol. [aside] Still on my daughter. + Ham. Am I not i' th' right, old Jephthah? + Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I + love passing well. + Ham. Nay, that follows not. + Pol. What follows then, my lord? + Ham. Why, + + 'As by lot, God wot,' + + and then, you know, + + 'It came to pass, as most like it was.' + + The first row of the pious chanson will show you more; for look + where my abridgment comes. + + Enter four or five Players. + + You are welcome, masters; welcome, all.- I am glad to see thee + well.- Welcome, good friends.- O, my old friend? Why, thy face is + valanc'd since I saw thee last. Com'st' thou to' beard me in + Denmark?- What, my young lady and mistress? By'r Lady, your + ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last by the + altitude of a chopine. Pray God your voice, like a piece of + uncurrent gold, be not crack'd within the ring.- Masters, you are + all welcome. We'll e'en to't like French falconers, fly at + anything we see. We'll have a speech straight. Come, give us a + taste of your quality. Come, a passionate speech. + 1. Play. What speech, my good lord? + Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never acted; + or if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleas'd + not the million, 'twas caviary to the general; but it was (as I + receiv'd it, and others, whose judgments in such matters cried in + the top of mine) an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, + set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember one said + there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savoury, + nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of + affectation; but call'd it an honest method, as wholesome as + sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech in't + I chiefly lov'd. 'Twas AEneas' tale to Dido, and thereabout of it + especially where he speaks of Priam's slaughter. If it live in + your memory, begin at this line- let me see, let me see: + + 'The rugged Pyrrhus, like th' Hyrcanian beast-' + + 'Tis not so; it begins with Pyrrhus: + + 'The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms, + Black as his purpose, did the night resemble + When he lay couched in the ominous horse, + Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd + With heraldry more dismal. Head to foot + Now is be total gules, horridly trick'd + With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, + Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets, + That lend a tyrannous and a damned light + To their lord's murther. Roasted in wrath and fire, + And thus o'ersized with coagulate gore, + With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus + Old grandsire Priam seeks.' + + So, proceed you. + Pol. Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good + discretion. + + 1. Play. 'Anon he finds him, + Striking too short at Greeks. His antique sword, + Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls, + Repugnant to command. Unequal match'd, + Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide; + But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword + Th' unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium, + Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top + Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash + Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear. For lo! his sword, + Which was declining on the milky head + Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' th' air to stick. + So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood, + And, like a neutral to his will and matter, + Did nothing. + But, as we often see, against some storm, + A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still, + The bold winds speechless, and the orb below + As hush as death- anon the dreadful thunder + Doth rend the region; so, after Pyrrhus' pause, + Aroused vengeance sets him new awork; + And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall + On Mars's armour, forg'd for proof eterne, + With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword + Now falls on Priam. + Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune! All you gods, + In general synod take away her power; + Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel, + And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven, + As low as to the fiends! + + Pol. This is too long. + Ham. It shall to the barber's, with your beard.- Prithee say on. + He's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps. Say on; come to + Hecuba. + + 1. Play. 'But who, O who, had seen the mobled queen-' + + Ham. 'The mobled queen'? + Pol. That's good! 'Mobled queen' is good. + + 1. Play. 'Run barefoot up and down, threat'ning the flames + With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head + Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe, + About her lank and all o'erteemed loins, + A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up- + Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd + 'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have pronounc'd. + But if the gods themselves did see her then, + When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport + In Mincing with his sword her husband's limbs, + The instant burst of clamour that she made + (Unless things mortal move them not at all) + Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven + And passion in the gods.' + + Pol. Look, whe'r he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears in's + eyes. Prithee no more! + Ham. 'Tis well. I'll have thee speak out the rest of this soon.- + Good my lord, will you see the players well bestow'd? Do you + hear? Let them be well us'd; for they are the abstract and brief + chronicles of the time. After your death you were better have a + bad epitaph than their ill report while you live. + Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their desert. + Ham. God's bodykins, man, much better! Use every man after his + desert, and who should scape whipping? Use them after your own + honour and dignity. The less they deserve, the more merit is in + your bounty. Take them in. + Pol. Come, sirs. + Ham. Follow him, friends. We'll hear a play to-morrow. + Exeunt Polonius and Players [except the First]. + Dost thou hear me, old friend? Can you play 'The Murther of + Gonzago'? + 1. Play. Ay, my lord. + Ham. We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a + speech of some dozen or sixteen lines which I would set down and + insert in't, could you not? + 1. Play. Ay, my lord. + Ham. Very well. Follow that lord- and look you mock him not. + [Exit First Player.] + My good friends, I'll leave you till night. You are welcome to + Elsinore. + Ros. Good my lord! + Ham. Ay, so, God b' wi' ye! + [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern + Now I am alone. + 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 wann'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 th' 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! + O, vengeance! + Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave, + That I, the son of a dear father murther'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! Hum, 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 murther, though it have no tongue, will speak + With most miraculous organ, I'll have these Players + Play something like the murther 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. The spirit that I have seen + May be a devil; and the devil hath power + T' assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps + Out of my weakness and my melancholy, + As he is very potent with such spirits, + Abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds + More relative than this. The play's the thing + Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King. Exit. + + + + + +ACT III. Scene I. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Lords. + + King. And can you by no drift of circumstance + Get from him why he puts on this confusion, + Grating so harshly all his days of quiet + With turbulent and dangerous lunacy? + Ros. He does confess he feels himself distracted, + But from what cause he will by no means speak. + Guil. Nor do we find him forward to be sounded, + But with a crafty madness keeps aloof + When we would bring him on to some confession + Of his true state. + Queen. Did he receive you well? + Ros. Most like a gentleman. + Guil. But with much forcing of his disposition. + Ros. Niggard of question, but of our demands + Most free in his reply. + Queen. Did you assay him + To any pastime? + Ros. Madam, it so fell out that certain players + We o'erraught on the way. Of these we told him, + And there did seem in him a kind of joy + To hear of it. They are here about the court, + And, as I think, they have already order + This night to play before him. + Pol. 'Tis most true; + And he beseech'd me to entreat your Majesties + To hear and see the matter. + King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me + To hear him so inclin'd. + Good gentlemen, give him a further edge + And drive his purpose on to these delights. + Ros. We shall, my lord. + Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too; + For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither, + That he, as 'twere by accident, may here + Affront Ophelia. + Her father and myself (lawful espials) + Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing unseen, + We may of their encounter frankly judge + And gather by him, as he is behav'd, + If't be th' affliction of his love, or no, + That thus he suffers for. + Queen. I shall obey you; + And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish + That your good beauties be the happy cause + Of Hamlet's wildness. So shall I hope your virtues + Will bring him to his wonted way again, + To both your honours. + Oph. Madam, I wish it may. + [Exit Queen.] + Pol. Ophelia, walk you here.- Gracious, so please you, + We will bestow ourselves.- [To Ophelia] Read on this book, + That show of such an exercise may colour + Your loneliness.- We are oft to blame in this, + 'Tis too much prov'd, that with devotion's visage + And pious action we do sugar o'er + The Devil himself. + King. [aside] O, 'tis too true! + How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience! + The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring art, + Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it + Than is my deed to my most painted word. + O heavy burthen! + Pol. I hear him coming. Let's withdraw, my lord. + Exeunt King and Polonius]. + + Enter Hamlet. + + Ham. 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 heartache, 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, + Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, + The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, + The insolence of office, and the spurns + That patient merit of th' 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 rememb'red. + Oph. Good my lord, + How does your honour for this many a day? + Ham. I humbly thank you; well, well, well. + Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours + That I have longed long to re-deliver. + I pray you, now receive them. + Ham. No, not I! + I never gave you aught. + Oph. My honour'd lord, you know right well you did, + And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd + As made the things more rich. Their perfume lost, + Take these again; for to the noble mind + Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. + There, my lord. + Ham. Ha, ha! Are you honest? + Oph. My lord? + Ham. Are you fair? + Oph. What means your lordship? + Ham. That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no + discourse to your beauty. + Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty? + Ham. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform + honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can + translate beauty into his likeness. This was sometime a paradox, + but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once. + Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so. + Ham. You should not have believ'd me; for virtue cannot so + inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it. I loved you + not. + Oph. I was the more deceived. + Ham. Get thee to a nunnery! Why wouldst thou be a breeder of + sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse + me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me. + I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my + beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give + them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I + do, crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves all; + believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your + father? + Oph. At home, my lord. + Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool + nowhere but in's own house. Farewell. + Oph. O, help him, you sweet heavens! + Ham. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: + be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape + calumny. Get thee to a nunnery. Go, farewell. Or if thou wilt + needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what + monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go; and quickly too. + Farewell. + Oph. O heavenly powers, restore him! + Ham. I have heard of your paintings too, well enough. God hath + given you one face, and you make yourselves another. You jig, you + amble, and you lisp; you nickname God's creatures and make your + wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't! it hath made + me mad. I say, we will have no moe marriages. Those that are + married already- all but one- shall live; the rest shall keep as + they are. To a nunnery, go. Exit. + Oph. O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! + The courtier's, scholar's, soldier's, eye, tongue, sword, + Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state, + The glass of fashion and the mould of form, + Th' observ'd of all observers- quite, quite down! + And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, + That suck'd the honey of his music vows, + Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, + Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; + That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth + Blasted with ecstasy. O, woe is me + T' have seen what I have seen, see what I see! + + Enter King and Polonius. + + King. Love? his affections do not that way tend; + Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little, + Was not like madness. There's something in his soul + O'er which his melancholy sits on brood; + And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose + Will be some danger; which for to prevent, + I have in quick determination + Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England + For the demand of our neglected tribute. + Haply the seas, and countries different, + With variable objects, shall expel + This something-settled matter in his heart, + Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus + From fashion of himself. What think you on't? + Pol. It shall do well. But yet do I believe + The origin and commencement of his grief + Sprung from neglected love.- How now, Ophelia? + You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said. + We heard it all.- My lord, do as you please; + But if you hold it fit, after the play + Let his queen mother all alone entreat him + To show his grief. Let her be round with him; + And I'll be plac'd so please you, in the ear + Of all their conference. If she find him not, + To England send him; or confine him where + Your wisdom best shall think. + King. It shall be so. + Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Elsinore. hall in the Castle. + +Enter Hamlet and three of the Players. + + Ham. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, + trippingly on the tongue. But if you mouth it, as many of our + players do, I had as live the town crier spoke my lines. Nor do + not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all + gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) + whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a + temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the + soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to + tatters, to very rags, to split the cars of the groundlings, who + (for the most part) are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb + shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipp'd for o'erdoing + Termagant. It out-herods Herod. Pray you avoid it. + Player. I warrant your honour. + Ham. Be not too tame neither; but let your own discretion be your + tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with + this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of + nature: for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, + whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as + 'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show Virtue her own feature, + scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his + form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off, though + it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious + grieve; the censure of the which one must in your allowance + o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players that I + have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly (not to + speak it profanely), that, neither having the accent of + Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so + strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature's + journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated + humanity so abominably. + Player. I hope we have reform'd that indifferently with us, sir. + Ham. O, reform it altogether! And let those that play your clowns + speak no more than is set down for them. For there be of them + that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren + spectators to laugh too, though in the mean time some necessary + question of the play be then to be considered. That's villanous + and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go + make you ready. + Exeunt Players. + + Enter Polonius, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern. + + How now, my lord? Will the King hear this piece of work? + Pol. And the Queen too, and that presently. + Ham. Bid the players make haste, [Exit Polonius.] Will you two + help to hasten them? + Both. We will, my lord. Exeunt they two. + Ham. What, ho, Horatio! + + Enter Horatio. + + Hor. Here, sweet lord, at your service. + Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man + As e'er my conversation cop'd withal. + Hor. O, my dear lord! + Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter; + For what advancement may I hope from thee, + That no revenue hast but thy good spirits + To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd? + No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, + And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee + Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? + Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice + And could of men distinguish, her election + Hath scald thee for herself. For thou hast been + As one, in suff'ring all, that suffers nothing; + A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards + Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and blest are those + Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled + That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger + To sound what stop she please. Give me that man + That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him + In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, + As I do thee. Something too much of this I + There is a play to-night before the King. + One scene of it comes near the circumstance, + Which I have told thee, of my father's death. + I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot, + Even with the very comment of thy soul + Observe my uncle. If his occulted guilt + Do not itself unkennel in one speech, + It is a damned ghost that we have seen, + And my imaginations are as foul + As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note; + For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, + And after we will both our judgments join + In censure of his seeming. + Hor. Well, my lord. + If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing, + And scape detecting, I will pay the theft. + + Sound a flourish. [Enter Trumpets and Kettledrums. Danish + march. [Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, + Guildenstern, and other Lords attendant, with the Guard + carrying torches. + + Ham. They are coming to the play. I must be idle. + Get you a place. + King. How fares our cousin Hamlet? + Ham. Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish. I eat the air, + promise-cramm'd. You cannot feed capons so. + King. I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet. These words are not + mine. + Ham. No, nor mine now. [To Polonius] My lord, you play'd once + i' th' university, you say? + Pol. That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor. + Ham. What did you enact? + Pol. I did enact Julius Caesar; I was kill'd i' th' Capitol; Brutus + kill'd me. + Ham. It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there. Be + the players ready. + Ros. Ay, my lord. They stay upon your patience. + Queen. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me. + Ham. No, good mother. Here's metal more attractive. + Pol. [to the King] O, ho! do you mark that? + Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap? + [Sits down at Ophelia's feet.] + Oph. No, my lord. + Ham. I mean, my head upon your lap? + Oph. Ay, my lord. + Ham. Do you think I meant country matters? + Oph. I think nothing, my lord. + Ham. That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs. + Oph. What is, my lord? + Ham. Nothing. + Oph. You are merry, my lord. + Ham. Who, I? + Oph. Ay, my lord. + Ham. O God, your only jig-maker! What should a man do but be merry? + For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died + within 's two hours. + Oph. Nay 'tis twice two months, my lord. + Ham. So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a + suit of sables. O heavens! die two months ago, and not forgotten + yet? Then there's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life + half a year. But, by'r Lady, he must build churches then; or else + shall he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose + epitaph is 'For O, for O, the hobby-horse is forgot!' + + Hautboys play. The dumb show enters. + + Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen embracing + him and he her. She kneels, and makes show of protestation + unto him. He takes her up, and declines his head upon her + neck. He lays him down upon a bank of flowers. She, seeing + him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his + crown, kisses it, pours poison in the sleeper's ears, and + leaves him. The Queen returns, finds the King dead, and makes + passionate action. The Poisoner with some three or four Mutes, + comes in again, seem to condole with her. The dead body is + carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with gifts; she + seems harsh and unwilling awhile, but in the end accepts + his love. + Exeunt. + + Oph. What means this, my lord? + Ham. Marry, this is miching malhecho; it means mischief. + Oph. Belike this show imports the argument of the play. + + Enter Prologue. + + Ham. We shall know by this fellow. The players cannot keep counsel; + they'll tell all. + Oph. Will he tell us what this show meant? + Ham. Ay, or any show that you'll show him. Be not you asham'd to + show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means. + Oph. You are naught, you are naught! I'll mark the play. + + Pro. For us, and for our tragedy, + Here stooping to your clemency, + We beg your hearing patiently. [Exit.] + + Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? + Oph. 'Tis brief, my lord. + Ham. As woman's love. + + Enter [two Players as] King and Queen. + + King. Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round + Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground, + And thirty dozed moons with borrowed sheen + About the world have times twelve thirties been, + Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands, + Unite comutual in most sacred bands. + Queen. So many journeys may the sun and moon + Make us again count o'er ere love be done! + But woe is me! you are so sick of late, + So far from cheer and from your former state. + That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust, + Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must; + For women's fear and love holds quantity, + In neither aught, or in extremity. + Now what my love is, proof hath made you know; + And as my love is siz'd, my fear is so. + Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; + Where little fears grow great, great love grows there. + King. Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too; + My operant powers their functions leave to do. + And thou shalt live in this fair world behind, + Honour'd, belov'd, and haply one as kind + For husband shalt thou- + Queen. O, confound the rest! + Such love must needs be treason in my breast. + When second husband let me be accurst! + None wed the second but who killed the first. + + Ham. [aside] Wormwood, wormwood! + + Queen. The instances that second marriage move + Are base respects of thrift, but none of love. + A second time I kill my husband dead + When second husband kisses me in bed. + King. I do believe you think what now you speak; + But what we do determine oft we break. + Purpose is but the slave to memory, + Of violent birth, but poor validity; + Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree, + But fill unshaken when they mellow be. + Most necessary 'tis that we forget + To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt. + What to ourselves in passion we propose, + The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. + The violence of either grief or joy + Their own enactures with themselves destroy. + Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament; + Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident. + This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange + That even our loves should with our fortunes change; + For 'tis a question left us yet to prove, + Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love. + The great man down, you mark his favourite flies, + The poor advanc'd makes friends of enemies; + And hitherto doth love on fortune tend, + For who not needs shall never lack a friend, + And who in want a hollow friend doth try, + Directly seasons him his enemy. + But, orderly to end where I begun, + Our wills and fates do so contrary run + That our devices still are overthrown; + Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own. + So think thou wilt no second husband wed; + But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead. + Queen. Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light, + Sport and repose lock from me day and night, + To desperation turn my trust and hope, + An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope, + Each opposite that blanks the face of joy + Meet what I would have well, and it destroy, + Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife, + If, once a widow, ever I be wife! + + Ham. If she should break it now! + + King. 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile. + My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile + The tedious day with sleep. + Queen. Sleep rock thy brain, + [He] sleeps. + And never come mischance between us twain! +Exit. + + Ham. Madam, how like you this play? + Queen. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. + Ham. O, but she'll keep her word. + King. Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in't? + Ham. No, no! They do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i' th' + world. + King. What do you call the play? + Ham. 'The Mousetrap.' Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the + image of a murther done in Vienna. Gonzago is the duke's name; + his wife, Baptista. You shall see anon. 'Tis a knavish piece of + work; but what o' that? Your Majesty, and we that have free + souls, it touches us not. Let the gall'd jade winch; our withers + are unwrung. + + Enter Lucianus. + + This is one Lucianus, nephew to the King. + Oph. You are as good as a chorus, my lord. + Ham. I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see + the puppets dallying. + Oph. You are keen, my lord, you are keen. + Ham. It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge. + Oph. Still better, and worse. + Ham. So you must take your husbands.- Begin, murtherer. Pox, leave + thy damnable faces, and begin! Come, the croaking raven doth + bellow for revenge. + + Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing; + Confederate season, else no creature seeing; + Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected, + With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected, + Thy natural magic and dire property + On wholesome life usurp immediately. + Pours the poison in his ears. + + Ham. He poisons him i' th' garden for's estate. His name's Gonzago. + The story is extant, and written in very choice Italian. You + shall see anon how the murtherer gets the love of Gonzago's wife. + Oph. The King rises. + Ham. What, frighted with false fire? + Queen. How fares my lord? + Pol. Give o'er the play. + King. Give me some light! Away! + All. Lights, lights, lights! + Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horatio. + Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep, + The hart ungalled play; + For some must watch, while some must sleep: + Thus runs the world away. + Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers- if the rest of my + fortunes turn Turk with me-with two Provincial roses on my raz'd + shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir? + Hor. Half a share. + Ham. A whole one I! + For thou dost know, O Damon dear, + This realm dismantled was + Of Jove himself; and now reigns here + A very, very- pajock. + Hor. You might have rhym'd. + Ham. O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand + pound! Didst perceive? + Hor. Very well, my lord. + Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning? + Hor. I did very well note him. + Ham. Aha! Come, some music! Come, the recorders! + For if the King like not the comedy, + Why then, belike he likes it not, perdy. + Come, some music! + + Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you. + Ham. Sir, a whole history. + Guil. The King, sir- + Ham. Ay, sir, what of him? + Guil. Is in his retirement, marvellous distemper'd. + Ham. With drink, sir? + Guil. No, my lord; rather with choler. + Ham. Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify this to + the doctor; for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps + plunge him into far more choler. + Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and start + not so wildly from my affair. + Ham. I am tame, sir; pronounce. + Guil. The Queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit + hath sent me to you. + Ham. You are welcome. + Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. + If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do + your mother's commandment; if not, your pardon and my return + shall be the end of my business. + Ham. Sir, I cannot. + Guil. What, my lord? + Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseas'd. But, sir, such + answer is I can make, you shall command; or rather, as you say, + my mother. Therefore no more, but to the matter! My mother, you + say- + Ros. Then thus she says: your behaviour hath struck her into + amazement and admiration. + Ham. O wonderful son, that can so stonish a mother! But is there no + sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? Impart. + Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet ere you go to bed. + Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any + further trade with us? + Ros. My lord, you once did love me. + Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers! + Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do surely + bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to + your friend. + Ham. Sir, I lack advancement. + Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice of the King himself + for your succession in Denmark? + Ham. Ay, sir, but 'while the grass grows'- the proverb is something + musty. + + Enter the Players with recorders. + + O, the recorders! Let me see one. To withdraw with you- why do + you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me + into a toil? + Guil. O my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly. + Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe? + Guil. My lord, I cannot. + Ham. I pray you. + Guil. Believe me, I cannot. + Ham. I do beseech you. + Guil. I know, no touch of it, my lord. + Ham. It is as easy as lying. Govern these ventages with your + fingers and thumbs, give it breath with your mouth, and it will + discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops. + Guil. But these cannot I command to any utt'rance of harmony. I + have not the skill. + Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You + would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would + pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my + lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, + excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it + speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be play'd on than a + pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, + you cannot play upon me. + + Enter Polonius. + + God bless you, sir! + Pol. My lord, the Queen would speak with you, and presently. + Ham. Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel? + Pol. By th' mass, and 'tis like a camel indeed. + Ham. Methinks it is like a weasel. + Pol. It is back'd like a weasel. + Ham. Or like a whale. + Pol. Very like a whale. + Ham. Then will I come to my mother by-and-by.- They fool me to the + top of my bent.- I will come by-and-by. + Pol. I will say so. Exit. + Ham. 'By-and-by' is easily said.- Leave me, friends. + [Exeunt all but Hamlet.] + '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! Exit. + + + + +Scene III. +A room in the Castle. + +Enter King, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern. + + King. I like him not, nor stands it safe with us + To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you; + I your commission will forthwith dispatch, + And he to England shall along with you. + The terms of our estate may not endure + Hazard so near us as doth hourly grow + Out of his lunacies. + Guil. We will ourselves provide. + Most holy and religious fear it is + To keep those many many bodies safe + That live and feed upon your Majesty. + Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound + With all the strength and armour of the mind + To keep itself from noyance; but much more + That spirit upon whose weal depends and rests + The lives of many. The cesse of majesty + Dies not alone, but like a gulf doth draw + What's near it with it. It is a massy wheel, + Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount, + To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things + Are mortis'd and adjoin'd; which when it falls, + Each small annexment, petty consequence, + Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone + Did the king sigh, but with a general groan. + King. Arm you, I pray you, to th', speedy voyage; + For we will fetters put upon this fear, + Which now goes too free-footed. + Both. We will haste us. + Exeunt Gentlemen. + + Enter Polonius. + + Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet. + Behind the arras I'll convey myself + To hear the process. I'll warrant she'll tax him home; + And, as you said, and wisely was it said, + 'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother, + Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear + The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege. + I'll call upon you ere you go to bed + And tell you what I know. + King. Thanks, dear my lord. + Exit [Polonius]. + O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven; + It hath the primal eldest curse upon't, + A brother's murther! 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 hand + Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, + Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens + To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy + But 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 prayer + Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murther'? + That cannot be; since I am still possess'd + Of those effects for which I did the murther- + My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. + May one be pardon'd and retain th' offence? + In the corrupted currents of this world + Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, + And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself + Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above. + There is no shuffling; there the action lies + In 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. He kneels. + + Enter Hamlet. + + Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying; + And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven, + And so am I reveng'd. That would be scann'd. + 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 reveng'd, + 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. + When he is drunk asleep; or in his rage; + Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed; + At gaming, 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 damn'd and black + As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays. + This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. Exit. + King. [rises] My words fly up, my thoughts remain below. + Words without thoughts never to heaven go. Exit. + + + + +Scene IV. +The Queen's closet. + +Enter Queen and Polonius. + + Pol. He will come straight. Look you lay home to him. + Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with, + And that your Grace hath screen'd and stood between + Much heat and him. I'll silence me even here. + Pray you be round with him. + Ham. (within) Mother, mother, mother! + Queen. I'll warrant you; fear me not. Withdraw; I hear him coming. + [Polonius hides behind the arras.] + + Enter Hamlet. + + Ham. Now, mother, what's the matter? + Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended. + Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended. + Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue. + Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue. + Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet? + Ham. What's the matter now? + Queen. Have you forgot me? + Ham. No, by the rood, not so! + You are the Queen, your husband's brother's wife, + And (would it were not so!) you are my mother. + Queen. Nay, then I'll set those to you that can speak. + Ham. Come, come, and sit you down. You shall not budge I + You go not till I set you up a glass + Where you may see the inmost part of you. + Queen. What wilt thou do? Thou wilt not murther me? + Help, help, ho! + Pol. [behind] What, ho! help, help, help! + Ham. [draws] How now? a rat? Dead for a ducat, dead! + [Makes a pass through the arras and] kills Polonius. + Pol. [behind] O, I am slain! + Queen. O me, what hast thou done? + Ham. Nay, I know not. Is it the King? + Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this! + Ham. A bloody deed- almost as bad, good mother, + As kill a king, and marry with his brother. + Queen. As kill a king? + Ham. Ay, lady, it was my word. + [Lifts up the arras and sees Polonius.] + Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! + I took thee for thy better. Take thy fortune. + Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger. + Leave wringing of your hinds. Peace! sit you down + And let me wring your heart; for so I shall + If it be made of penetrable stuff; + If damned custom have not braz'd it so + That it is proof and bulwark against sense. + Queen. What have I done that thou dar'st wag thy tongue + In noise so rude against me? + Ham. Such an act + That blurs the grace and blush of modesty; + Calls virtue hypocrite; takes off the rose + From the fair forehead of an innocent love, + And sets a blister there; makes marriage vows + As false as dicers' oaths. O, such a deed + As from the body of contraction plucks + The very soul, and sweet religion makes + A rhapsody of words! Heaven's face doth glow; + Yea, this solidity and compound mass, + With tristful visage, as against the doom, + Is thought-sick at the act. + Queen. Ay me, what act, + That roars so loud and thunders in the index? + Ham. Look here upon th's picture, and on this, + The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. + See what a grace was seated on this brow; + Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; + An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; + A station like the herald Mercury + New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill: + A combination and a form indeed + Where every god did seem to set his seal + To give the world assurance of a man. + This was your husband. Look you now what follows. + Here is your husband, like a mildew'd ear + Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? + Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, + And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes + You cannot call it love; for at your age + The heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble, + And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment + Would step from this to this? Sense sure you have, + Else could you not have motion; but sure that sense + Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err, + Nor sense to ecstacy was ne'er so thrall'd + But it reserv'd some quantity of choice + To serve in such a difference. What devil was't + That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind? + Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, + Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all, + Or but a sickly part of one true sense + Could not so mope. + O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, + If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones, + To flaming youth let virtue be as wax + And melt in her own fire. Proclaim no shame + When the compulsive ardour gives the charge, + Since frost itself as actively doth burn, + And reason panders will. + Queen. O Hamlet, speak no more! + Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul, + And there I see such black and grained spots + As will not leave their tinct. + Ham. Nay, but to live + In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed, + Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love + Over the nasty sty! + Queen. O, speak to me no more! + These words like daggers enter in mine ears. + No more, sweet Hamlet! + Ham. A murtherer and a villain! + A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe + Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings; + A cutpurse of the empire and the rule, + That from a shelf the precious diadem stole + And put it in his pocket! + Queen. No more! + + Enter the Ghost in his nightgown. + + Ham. A king of shreds and patches!- + Save me and hover o'er me with your wings, + You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure? + Queen. Alas, he's mad! + Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide, + That, laps'd in time and passion, lets go by + Th' important acting of your dread command? + O, say! + Ghost. Do not forget. This visitation + Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. + But look, amazement on thy mother sits. + O, step between her and her fighting soul + Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works. + Speak to her, Hamlet. + Ham. How is it with you, lady? + Queen. Alas, how is't with you, + That you do bend your eye on vacancy, + And with th' encorporal air do hold discourse? + Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep; + And, as the sleeping soldiers in th' alarm, + Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements, + Start up and stand an end. O gentle son, + Upon the beat and flame of thy distemper + Sprinkle cool patience! Whereon do you look? + Ham. On him, on him! Look you how pale he glares! + His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, + Would make them capable.- Do not look upon me, + Lest with this piteous action you convert + My stern effects. Then what I have to do + Will want true colour- tears perchance for blood. + Queen. To whom do you speak this? + Ham. Do you see nothing there? + Queen. Nothing at all; yet all that is I see. + Ham. Nor did you nothing hear? + Queen. No, nothing but ourselves. + Ham. Why, look you there! Look how it steals away! + My father, in his habit as he liv'd! + Look where he goes even now out at the portal! + Exit Ghost. + Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain. + This bodiless creation ecstasy + Is very cunning in. + Ham. Ecstasy? + My pulse as yours doth temperately keep time + And makes as healthful music. It is not madness + That I have utt'red. Bring me to the test, + And I the matter will reword; which madness + Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, + Lay not that flattering unction to your soul + That not your trespass but my madness speaks. + It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, + Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, + Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven; + Repent what's past; avoid what is to come; + And do not spread the compost on the weeds + To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue; + For in the fatness of these pursy times + Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg- + Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good. + Queen. O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain. + Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it, + And live the purer with the other half, + Good night- but go not to my uncle's bed. + Assume a virtue, if you have it not. + That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat + Of habits evil, is angel yet in this, + That to the use of actions fair and good + He likewise gives a frock or livery, + That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night, + And that shall lend a kind of easiness + To the next abstinence; the next more easy; + For use almost can change the stamp of nature, + And either [master] the devil, or throw him out + With wondrous potency. Once more, good night; + And when you are desirous to be blest, + I'll blessing beg of you.- For this same lord, + I do repent; but heaven hath pleas'd it so, + To punish me with this, and this with me, + That I must be their scourge and minister. + I will bestow him, and will answer well + The death I gave him. So again, good night. + I must be cruel, only to be kind; + Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind. + One word more, good lady. + Queen. What shall I do? + Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do: + Let the bloat King tempt you again to bed; + Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse; + And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses, + Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers, + Make you to ravel all this matter out, + That I essentially am not in madness, + But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know; + For who that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, + Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib + Such dear concernings hide? Who would do so? + No, in despite of sense and secrecy, + Unpeg the basket on the house's top, + Let the birds fly, and like the famous ape, + To try conclusions, in the basket creep + And break your own neck down. + Queen. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath, + And breath of life, I have no life to breathe + What thou hast said to me. + Ham. I must to England; you know that? + Queen. Alack, + I had forgot! 'Tis so concluded on. + Ham. There's letters seal'd; and my two schoolfellows, + Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd, + They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way + And marshal me to knavery. Let it work; + For 'tis the sport to have the enginer + Hoist with his own petar; and 't shall go hard + But I will delve one yard below their mines + And blow them at the moon. O, 'tis most sweet + When in one line two crafts directly meet. + This man shall set me packing. + I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room.- + Mother, good night.- Indeed, this counsellor + Is now most still, most secret, and most grave, + Who was in life a foolish peating knave. + Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you. + Good night, mother. + [Exit the Queen. Then] Exit Hamlet, tugging in + Polonius. + + + + + +ACT IV. Scene I. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Enter King and Queen, with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + King. There's matter in these sighs. These profound heaves + You must translate; 'tis fit we understand them. + Where is your son? + Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while. + [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.] + Ah, mine own lord, what have I seen to-night! + King. What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet? + Queen. Mad as the sea and wind when both contend + Which is the mightier. In his lawless fit + Behind the arras hearing something stir, + Whips out his rapier, cries 'A rat, a rat!' + And in this brainish apprehension kills + The unseen good old man. + King. O heavy deed! + It had been so with us, had we been there. + His liberty is full of threats to all- + To you yourself, to us, to every one. + Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd? + It will be laid to us, whose providence + Should have kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt + This mad young man. But so much was our love + We would not understand what was most fit, + But, like the owner of a foul disease, + To keep it from divulging, let it feed + Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone? + Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd; + O'er whom his very madness, like some ore + Among a mineral of metals base, + Shows itself pure. He weeps for what is done. + King. O Gertrude, come away! + The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch + But we will ship him hence; and this vile deed + We must with all our majesty and skill + Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guildenstern! + + Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + Friends both, go join you with some further aid. + Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, + And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him. + Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body + Into the chapel. I pray you haste in this. + Exeunt [Rosencrantz and Guildenstern]. + Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends + And let them know both what we mean to do + And what's untimely done. [So haply slander-] + Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter, + As level as the cannon to his blank, + Transports his poisoned shot- may miss our name + And hit the woundless air.- O, come away! + My soul is full of discord and dismay. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Elsinore. A passage in the Castle. + +Enter Hamlet. + + Ham. Safely stow'd. + Gentlemen. (within) Hamlet! Lord Hamlet! + Ham. But soft! What noise? Who calls on Hamlet? O, here they come. + + Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + Ros. What have you done, my lord, with the dead body? + Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin. + Ros. Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence + And bear it to the chapel. + Ham. Do not believe it. + Ros. Believe what? + Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own. Besides, to be + demanded of a sponge, what replication should be made by the son + of a king? + Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord? + Ham. Ay, sir; that soaks up the King's countenance, his rewards, + his authorities. But such officers do the King best service in + the end. He keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw; + first mouth'd, to be last Swallowed. When he needs what you have + glean'd, it is but squeezing you and, sponge, you shall be dry + again. + Ros. I understand you not, my lord. + Ham. I am glad of it. A knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear. + Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the body is and go with us to + the King. + Ham. The body is with the King, but the King is not with the body. + The King is a thing- + Guil. A thing, my lord? + Ham. Of nothing. Bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene III. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Enter King. + + King. I have sent to seek him and to find the body. + How dangerous is it that this man goes loose! + Yet must not we put the strong law on him. + He's lov'd of the distracted multitude, + Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes; + And where 'tis so, th' offender's scourge is weigh'd, + But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even, + This sudden sending him away must seem + Deliberate pause. Diseases desperate grown + By desperate appliance are reliev'd, + Or not at all. + + Enter Rosencrantz. + + How now O What hath befall'n? + Ros. Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord, + We cannot get from him. + King. But where is he? + Ros. Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure. + King. Bring him before us. + Ros. Ho, Guildenstern! Bring in my lord. + + Enter Hamlet and Guildenstern [with Attendants]. + + King. Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius? + Ham. At supper. + King. At supper? Where? + Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten. A certain + convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your + only emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else to fat us, and + we fat ourselves for maggots. Your fat king and your lean beggar + is but variable service- two dishes, but to one table. That's the + end. + King. Alas, alas! + Ham. A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat + of the fish that hath fed of that worm. + King. What dost thou mean by this? + Ham. Nothing but to show you how a king may go a progress through + the guts of a beggar. + King. Where is Polonius? + Ham. In heaven. Send thither to see. If your messenger find him not + there, seek him i' th' other place yourself. But indeed, if you + find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up + the stair, into the lobby. + King. Go seek him there. [To Attendants.] + Ham. He will stay till you come. + [Exeunt Attendants.] + King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,- + Which we do tender as we dearly grieve + For that which thou hast done,- must send thee hence + With fiery quickness. Therefore prepare thyself. + The bark is ready and the wind at help, + Th' associates tend, and everything is bent + For England. + Ham. For England? + King. Ay, Hamlet. + Ham. Good. + King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes. + Ham. I see a cherub that sees them. But come, for England! + Farewell, dear mother. + King. Thy loving father, Hamlet. + Ham. My mother! Father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is + one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England! +Exit. + King. Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard. + Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night. + Away! for everything is seal'd and done + That else leans on th' affair. Pray you make haste. + Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern] + And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,- + As my great power thereof may give thee sense, + Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red + After the Danish sword, and thy free awe + Pays homage to us,- thou mayst not coldly set + Our sovereign process, which imports at full, + By letters congruing to that effect, + The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England; + For like the hectic in my blood he rages, + And thou must cure me. Till I know 'tis done, + Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun. Exit. + + + + + +Scene IV. +Near Elsinore. + +Enter Fortinbras with his Army over the stage. + + For. Go, Captain, from me greet the Danish king. + Tell him that by his license Fortinbras + Craves the conveyance of a promis'd march + Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous. + if that his Majesty would aught with us, + We shall express our duty in his eye; + And let him know so. + Capt. I will do't, my lord. + For. Go softly on. + Exeunt [all but the Captain]. + + Enter Hamlet, Rosencrantz, [Guildenstern,] and others. + + Ham. Good sir, whose powers are these? + Capt. They are of Norway, sir. + Ham. How purpos'd, sir, I pray you? + Capt. Against some part of Poland. + Ham. Who commands them, sir? + Capt. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras. + Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, sir, + Or for some frontier? + Capt. Truly to speak, and with no addition, + We go to gain a little patch of ground + That hath in it no profit but the name. + To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it; + Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole + A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee. + Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it. + Capt. Yes, it is already garrison'd. + Ham. Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats + Will not debate the question of this straw. + This is th' imposthume of much wealth and peace, + That inward breaks, and shows no cause without + Why the man dies.- I humbly thank you, sir. + Capt. God b' wi' you, sir. [Exit.] + Ros. Will't please you go, my lord? + Ham. I'll be with you straight. Go a little before. + [Exeunt all but Hamlet.] + 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 unus'd. Now, whether it be + Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple + Of thinking too precisely on th' event,- + A thought which, quarter'd, 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 puff'd, + 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 honour's at the stake. How stand I then, + That have a father klll'd, a mother stain'd, + 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! Exit. + + + + + +Scene V. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Enter Horatio, Queen, and a Gentleman. + + Queen. I will not speak with her. + Gent. She is importunate, indeed distract. + Her mood will needs be pitied. + Queen. What would she have? + Gent. She speaks much of her father; says she hears + There's tricks i' th' world, and hems, and beats her heart; + Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt, + That carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing, + Yet the unshaped use of it doth move + The hearers to collection; they aim at it, + And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; + Which, as her winks and nods and gestures yield them, + Indeed would make one think there might be thought, + Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. + Hor. 'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew + Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds. + Queen. Let her come in. + [Exit Gentleman.] + [Aside] To my sick soul (as sin's true nature is) + Each toy seems Prologue to some great amiss. + So full of artless jealousy is guilt + It spills itself in fearing to be spilt. + + Enter Ophelia distracted. + + Oph. Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark? + Queen. How now, Ophelia? + Oph. (sings) + How should I your true-love know + From another one? + By his cockle bat and' staff + And his sandal shoon. + + Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song? + Oph. Say you? Nay, pray You mark. + + (Sings) He is dead and gone, lady, + He is dead and gone; + At his head a grass-green turf, + At his heels a stone. + + O, ho! + Queen. Nay, but Ophelia- + Oph. Pray you mark. + + (Sings) White his shroud as the mountain snow- + + Enter King. + + Queen. Alas, look here, my lord! + Oph. (Sings) + Larded all with sweet flowers; + Which bewept to the grave did not go + With true-love showers. + + King. How do you, pretty lady? + Oph. Well, God dild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. + Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at + your table! + King. Conceit upon her father. + Oph. Pray let's have no words of this; but when they ask, you what + it means, say you this: + + (Sings) To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day, + All in the morning bedtime, + And I a maid at your window, + To be your Valentine. + + Then up he rose and donn'd his clo'es + And dupp'd the chamber door, + Let in the maid, that out a maid + Never departed more. + + King. Pretty Ophelia! + Oph. Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't! + + [Sings] By Gis and by Saint Charity, + Alack, and fie for shame! + Young men will do't if they come to't + By Cock, they are to blame. + + Quoth she, 'Before you tumbled me, + You promis'd me to wed.' + + He answers: + + 'So would I 'a' done, by yonder sun, + An thou hadst not come to my bed.' + + King. How long hath she been thus? + Oph. I hope all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot + choose but weep to think they would lay him i' th' cold ground. + My brother shall know of it; and so I thank you for your good + counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies. Good night, sweet + ladies. Good night, good night. Exit + King. Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you. + [Exit Horatio.] + O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs + All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude, + When sorrows come, they come not single spies. + But in battalions! First, her father slain; + Next, Your son gone, and he most violent author + Of his own just remove; the people muddied, + Thick and and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers + For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly + In hugger-mugger to inter him; Poor Ophelia + Divided from herself and her fair-judgment, + Without the which we are Pictures or mere beasts; + Last, and as such containing as all these, + Her brother is in secret come from France; + And wants not buzzers to infect his ear + Feeds on his wonder, keep, himself in clouds, + With pestilent speeches of his father's death, + Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd, + Will nothing stick Our person to arraign + In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this, + Like to a murd'ring piece, in many places + Give, me superfluous death. A noise within. + Queen. Alack, what noise is this? + King. Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door. + + Enter a Messenger. + + What is the matter? + Mess. Save Yourself, my lord: + The ocean, overpeering of his list, + Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste + Than Young Laertes, in a riotous head, + O'erbears Your offices. The rabble call him lord; + And, as the world were now but to begin, + Antiquity forgot, custom not known, + The ratifiers and props of every word, + They cry 'Choose we! Laertes shall be king!' + Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds, + 'Laertes shall be king! Laertes king!' + A noise within. + Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! + O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs! + King. The doors are broke. + + Enter Laertes with others. + + Laer. Where is this king?- Sirs, staid you all without. + All. No, let's come in! + Laer. I pray you give me leave. + All. We will, we will! + Laer. I thank you. Keep the door. [Exeunt his Followers.] + O thou vile king, + Give me my father! + Queen. Calmly, good Laertes. + Laer. That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard; + Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot + Even here between the chaste unsmirched brows + Of my true mother. + King. What is the cause, Laertes, + That thy rebellion looks so giantlike? + Let him go, Gertrude. Do not fear our person. + There's such divinity doth hedge a king + That treason can but peep to what it would, + Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes, + Why thou art thus incens'd. Let him go, Gertrude. + Speak, man. + Laer. Where is my father? + King. Dead. + Queen. But not by him! + King. Let him demand his fill. + Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with: + To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil + Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit! + I dare damnation. To this point I stand, + That both the world, I give to negligence, + Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd + Most throughly for my father. + King. Who shall stay you? + Laer. My will, not all the world! + And for my means, I'll husband them so well + They shall go far with little. + King. Good Laertes, + If you desire to know the certainty + Of your dear father's death, is't writ in Your revenge + That swoopstake you will draw both friend and foe, + Winner and loser? + Laer. None but his enemies. + King. Will you know them then? + Laer. To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms + And, like the kind life-rend'ring pelican, + Repast them with my blood. + King. Why, now You speak + Like a good child and a true gentleman. + That I am guiltless of your father's death, + And am most sensibly in grief for it, + It shall as level to your judgment pierce + As day does to your eye. + A noise within: 'Let her come in.' + Laer. How now? What noise is that? + + Enter Ophelia. + + O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt + Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye! + By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight + Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May! + Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia! + O heavens! is't possible a young maid's wits + Should be as mortal as an old man's life? + Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine, + It sends some precious instance of itself + After the thing it loves. + + Oph. (sings) + They bore him barefac'd on the bier + (Hey non nony, nony, hey nony) + And in his grave rain'd many a tear. + + Fare you well, my dove! + Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge, + It could not move thus. + Oph. You must sing 'A-down a-down, and you call him a-down-a.' O, + how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his + master's daughter. + Laer. This nothing's more than matter. + Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, + remember. And there is pansies, that's for thoughts. + Laer. A document in madness! Thoughts and remembrance fitted. + Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for you, + and here's some for me. We may call it herb of grace o' Sundays. + O, you must wear your rue with a difference! There's a daisy. I + would give you some violets, but they wither'd all when my father + died. They say he made a good end. + + [Sings] For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. + + Laer. Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself, + She turns to favour and to prettiness. + Oph. (sings) + And will he not come again? + And will he not come again? + No, no, he is dead; + Go to thy deathbed; + He never will come again. + + His beard was as white as snow, + All flaxen was his poll. + He is gone, he is gone, + And we cast away moan. + God 'a'mercy on his soul! + + And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God b' wi', you. +Exit. + Laer. Do you see this, O God? + King. Laertes, I must commune with your grief, + Or you deny me right. Go but apart, + Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will, + And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me. + If by direct or by collateral hand + They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give, + Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours, + To you in satisfaction; but if not, + Be you content to lend your patience to us, + And we shall jointly labour with your soul + To give it due content. + Laer. Let this be so. + His means of death, his obscure funeral- + No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones, + No noble rite nor formal ostentation,- + Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth, + That I must call't in question. + King. So you shall; + And where th' offence is let the great axe fall. + I pray you go with me. + Exeunt + + + + + +Scene VI. +Elsinore. Another room in the Castle. + +Enter Horatio with an Attendant. + + Hor. What are they that would speak with me? + Servant. Seafaring men, sir. They say they have letters for you. + Hor. Let them come in. + [Exit Attendant.] + I do not know from what part of the world + I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet. + + Enter Sailors. + + Sailor. God bless you, sir. + Hor. Let him bless thee too. + Sailor. 'A shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for you, + sir,- it comes from th' ambassador that was bound for England- if + your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is. + Hor. (reads the letter) 'Horatio, when thou shalt have overlook'd + this, give these fellows some means to the King. They have + letters for him. Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of + very warlike appointment gave us chase. Finding ourselves too + slow of sail, we put on a compelled valour, and in the grapple I + boarded them. On the instant they got clear of our ship; so I + alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with me like thieves + of mercy; but they knew what they did: I am to do a good turn for + them. Let the King have the letters I have sent, and repair thou + to me with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. I have words + to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb; yet are they much too + light for the bore of the matter. These good fellows will bring + thee where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their course + for England. Of them I have much to tell thee. Farewell. + 'He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET.' + + Come, I will give you way for these your letters, + And do't the speedier that you may direct me + To him from whom you brought them. Exeunt. + + + + + +Scene VII. +Elsinore. Another room in the Castle. + +Enter King and Laertes. + + King. Now must your conscience my acquittance seal, + And You must put me in your heart for friend, + Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear, + That he which hath your noble father slain + Pursued my life. + Laer. It well appears. But tell me + Why you proceeded not against these feats + So crimeful and so capital in nature, + As by your safety, wisdom, all things else, + You mainly were stirr'd up. + King. O, for two special reasons, + Which may to you, perhaps, seein much unsinew'd, + But yet to me they are strong. The Queen his mother + Lives almost by his looks; and for myself,- + My virtue or my plague, be it either which,- + She's so conjunctive to my life and soul + That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, + I could not but by her. The other motive + Why to a public count I might not go + Is the great love the general gender bear him, + Who, dipping all his faults in their affection, + Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone, + Convert his gives to graces; so that my arrows, + Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind, + Would have reverted to my bow again, + And not where I had aim'd them. + Laer. And so have I a noble father lost; + A sister driven into desp'rate terms, + Whose worth, if praises may go back again, + Stood challenger on mount of all the age + For her perfections. But my revenge will come. + King. Break not your sleeps for that. You must not think + That we are made of stuff so flat and dull + That we can let our beard be shook with danger, + And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more. + I lov'd your father, and we love ourself, + And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine- + + Enter a Messenger with letters. + + How now? What news? + Mess. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: + This to your Majesty; this to the Queen. + King. From Hamlet? Who brought them? + Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not. + They were given me by Claudio; he receiv'd them + Of him that brought them. + King. Laertes, you shall hear them. + Leave us. + Exit Messenger. + [Reads]'High and Mighty,-You shall know I am set naked on your + kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes; + when I shall (first asking your pardon thereunto) recount the + occasion of my sudden and more strange return. + 'HAMLET.' + What should this mean? Are all the rest come back? + Or is it some abuse, and no such thing? + Laer. Know you the hand? + King. 'Tis Hamlet's character. 'Naked!' + And in a postscript here, he says 'alone.' + Can you advise me? + Laer. I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come! + It warms the very sickness in my heart + That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, + 'Thus didest thou.' + King. If it be so, Laertes + (As how should it be so? how otherwise?), + Will you be rul'd by me? + Laer. Ay my lord, + So you will not o'errule me to a peace. + King. To thine own peace. If he be now return'd + As checking at his voyage, and that he means + No more to undertake it, I will work him + To exploit now ripe in my device, + Under the which he shall not choose but fall; + And for his death no wind + But even his mother shall uncharge the practice + And call it accident. + Laer. My lord, I will be rul'd; + The rather, if you could devise it so + That I might be the organ. + King. It falls right. + You have been talk'd of since your travel much, + And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality + Wherein they say you shine, Your sun of parts + Did not together pluck such envy from him + As did that one; and that, in my regard, + Of the unworthiest siege. + Laer. What part is that, my lord? + King. A very riband in the cap of youth- + Yet needfull too; for youth no less becomes + The light and careless livery that it wears + Thin settled age his sables and his weeds, + Importing health and graveness. Two months since + Here was a gentleman of Normandy. + I have seen myself, and serv'd against, the French, + And they can well on horseback; but this gallant + Had witchcraft in't. He grew unto his seat, + And to such wondrous doing brought his horse + As had he been incorps'd and demi-natur'd + With the brave beast. So far he topp'd my thought + That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks, + Come short of what he did. + Laer. A Norman was't? + King. A Norman. + Laer. Upon my life, Lamound. + King. The very same. + Laer. I know him well. He is the broach indeed + And gem of all the nation. + King. He made confession of you; + And gave you such a masterly report + For art and exercise in your defence, + And for your rapier most especially, + That he cried out 'twould be a sight indeed + If one could match you. The scrimers of their nation + He swore had neither motion, guard, nor eye, + If you oppos'd them. Sir, this report of his + Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy + That he could nothing do but wish and beg + Your sudden coming o'er to play with you. + Now, out of this- + Laer. What out of this, my lord? + King. Laertes, was your father dear to you? + Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, + A face without a heart,' + Laer. Why ask you this? + King. Not that I think you did not love your father; + But that I know love is begun by time, + And that I see, in passages of proof, + Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. + There lives within the very flame of love + A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it; + And nothing is at a like goodness still; + For goodness, growing to a plurisy, + Dies in his own too-much. That we would do, + We should do when we would; for this 'would' changes, + And hath abatements and delays as many + As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; + And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh, + That hurts by easing. But to the quick o' th' ulcer! + Hamlet comes back. What would you undertake + To show yourself your father's son in deed + More than in words? + Laer. To cut his throat i' th' church! + King. No place indeed should murther sanctuarize; + Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes, + Will you do this? Keep close within your chamber. + Will return'd shall know you are come home. + We'll put on those shall praise your excellence + And set a double varnish on the fame + The Frenchman gave you; bring you in fine together + And wager on your heads. He, being remiss, + Most generous, and free from all contriving, + Will not peruse the foils; so that with ease, + Or with a little shuffling, you may choose + A sword unbated, and, in a pass of practice, + Requite him for your father. + Laer. I will do't! + And for that purpose I'll anoint my sword. + I bought an unction of a mountebank, + So mortal that, but dip a knife in it, + Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, + Collected from all simples that have virtue + Under the moon, can save the thing from death + This is but scratch'd withal. I'll touch my point + With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly, + It may be death. + King. Let's further think of this, + Weigh what convenience both of time and means + May fit us to our shape. If this should fall, + And that our drift look through our bad performance. + 'Twere better not assay'd. Therefore this project + Should have a back or second, that might hold + If this did blast in proof. Soft! let me see. + We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings- + I ha't! + When in your motion you are hot and dry- + As make your bouts more violent to that end- + And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepar'd him + A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping, + If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck, + Our purpose may hold there.- But stay, what noise, + + Enter Queen. + + How now, sweet queen? + Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel, + So fast they follow. Your sister's drown'd, Laertes. + Laer. Drown'd! O, where? + Queen. There is a willow grows aslant a brook, + That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream. + There with fantastic garlands did she come + Of 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 weeds + Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke, + When down her weedy trophies and herself + Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide + And, 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 indued + Unto that element; but long it could not be + Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, + Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay + To muddy death. + Laer. Alas, then she is drown'd? + Queen. Drown'd, drown'd. + Laer. Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, + And therefore I forbid my tears; but yet + It is our trick; nature her custom holds, + Let shame say what it will. When these are gone, + The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord. + I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze + But that this folly douts it. Exit. + King. Let's follow, Gertrude. + How much I had to do to calm his rage I + Now fear I this will give it start again; + Therefore let's follow. + Exeunt. + + + + + +ACT V. Scene I. +Elsinore. A churchyard. + +Enter two Clowns, [with spades and pickaxes]. + + Clown. Is she to be buried in Christian burial when she wilfully + seeks her own salvation? + Other. I tell thee she is; therefore make her grave straight. + The crowner hath sate on her, and finds it Christian burial. + Clown. How can that be, unless she drown'd herself in her own + defence? + Other. Why, 'tis found so. + Clown. It must be se offendendo; it cannot be else. For here lies + the point: if I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act; and an + act hath three branches-it is to act, to do, and to perform; + argal, she drown'd herself wittingly. + Other. Nay, but hear you, Goodman Delver! + Clown. Give me leave. Here lies the water; good. Here stands the + man; good. If the man go to this water and drown himself, it is, + will he nill he, he goes- mark you that. But if the water come to + him and drown him, he drowns not himself. Argal, he that is not + guilty of his own death shortens not his own life. + Other. But is this law? + Clown. Ay, marry, is't- crowner's quest law. + Other. Will you ha' the truth an't? If this had not been a + gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o' Christian burial. + Clown. Why, there thou say'st! And the more pity that great folk + should have count'nance in this world to drown or hang themselves + more than their even-Christen. Come, my spade! There is no + ancient gentlemen but gard'ners, ditchers, and grave-makers. They + hold up Adam's profession. + Other. Was he a gentleman? + Clown. 'A was the first that ever bore arms. + Other. Why, he had none. + Clown. What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the Scripture? + The Scripture says Adam digg'd. Could he dig without arms? I'll + put another question to thee. If thou answerest me not to the + purpose, confess thyself- + Other. Go to! + Clown. What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the + shipwright, or the carpenter? + Other. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand + tenants. + Clown. I like thy wit well, in good faith. The gallows does well. + But how does it well? It does well to those that do ill. Now, + thou dost ill to say the gallows is built stronger than the + church. Argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come! + Other. Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a + carpenter? + Clown. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke. + Other. Marry, now I can tell! + Clown. To't. + Other. Mass, I cannot tell. + + Enter Hamlet and Horatio afar off. + + Clown. Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass will + not mend his pace with beating; and when you are ask'd this + question next, say 'a grave-maker.' The houses he makes lasts + till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan; fetch me a stoup of + liquor. + [Exit Second Clown.] + + [Clown digs and] sings. + + In youth when I did love, did love, + Methought it was very sweet; + To contract- O- the time for- a- my behove, + O, methought there- a- was nothing- a- meet. + + Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at + grave-making? + Hor. Custom hath made it in him a Property of easiness. + Ham. 'Tis e'en so. The hand of little employment hath the daintier + sense. + Clown. (sings) + But age with his stealing steps + Hath clawed me in his clutch, + And hath shipped me intil the land, + As if I had never been such. + [Throws up a skull.] + + Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once. How the + knave jowls it to the ground,as if 'twere Cain's jawbone, that + did the first murther! This might be the pate of a Politician, + which this ass now o'erreaches; one that would circumvent God, + might it not? + Hor. It might, my lord. + Ham. Or of a courtier, which could say 'Good morrow, sweet lord! + How dost thou, good lord?' This might be my Lord Such-a-one, that + prais'd my Lord Such-a-one's horse when he meant to beg it- might + it not? + Hor. Ay, my lord. + Ham. Why, e'en so! and now my Lady Worm's, chapless, and knock'd + about the mazzard with a sexton's spade. Here's fine revolution, + and we had the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more the + breeding but to play at loggets with 'em? Mine ache to think + on't. + Clown. (Sings) + A pickaxe and a spade, a spade, + For and a shrouding sheet; + O, a Pit of clay for to be made + For such a guest is meet. + Throws up [another skull]. + + Ham. There's another. Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? + Where be his quiddits now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, + and his tricks? Why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock + him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him + of his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be in's time a + great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, his + fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries. Is this the fine of + his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine + pate full of fine dirt? Will his vouchers vouch him no more of + his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth + of a pair of indentures? The very conveyances of his lands will + scarcely lie in this box; and must th' inheritor himself have no + more, ha? + Hor. Not a jot more, my lord. + Ham. Is not parchment made of sheepskins? + Hor. Ay, my lord, And of calveskins too. + Ham. They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. I + will speak to this fellow. Whose grave's this, sirrah? + Clown. Mine, sir. + + [Sings] O, a pit of clay for to be made + For such a guest is meet. + + Ham. I think it be thine indeed, for thou liest in't. + Clown. You lie out on't, sir, and therefore 'tis not yours. + For my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine. + Ham. Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine. 'Tis for + the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest. + Clown. 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again from me to you. + Ham. What man dost thou dig it for? + Clown. For no man, sir. + Ham. What woman then? + Clown. For none neither. + Ham. Who is to be buried in't? + Clown. One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead. + Ham. How absolute the knave is! We must speak by the card, or + equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, this three years + I have taken note of it, the age is grown so picked that the toe + of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier he galls + his kibe.- How long hast thou been a grave-maker? + Clown. Of all the days i' th' year, I came to't that day that our + last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras. + Ham. How long is that since? + Clown. Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was the + very day that young Hamlet was born- he that is mad, and sent + into England. + Ham. Ay, marry, why was be sent into England? + Clown. Why, because 'a was mad. 'A shall recover his wits there; + or, if 'a do not, 'tis no great matter there. + Ham. Why? + Clown. 'Twill not he seen in him there. There the men are as mad as + he. + Ham. How came he mad? + Clown. Very strangely, they say. + Ham. How strangely? + Clown. Faith, e'en with losing his wits. + Ham. Upon what ground? + Clown. Why, here in Denmark. I have been sexton here, man and boy + thirty years. + Ham. How long will a man lie i' th' earth ere he rot? + Clown. Faith, if 'a be not rotten before 'a die (as we have many + pocky corses now-a-days that will scarce hold the laying in, I + will last you some eight year or nine year. A tanner will last + you nine year. + Ham. Why he more than another? + Clown. Why, sir, his hide is so tann'd with his trade that 'a will + keep out water a great while; and your water is a sore decayer of + your whoreson dead body. Here's a skull now. This skull hath lien + you i' th' earth three-and-twenty years. + Ham. Whose was it? + Clown. A whoreson, mad fellow's it was. Whose do you think it was? + Ham. Nay, I know not. + Clown. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! 'A pour'd a flagon of + Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's + skull, the King's jester. + Ham. This? + Clown. E'en that. + Ham. Let me see. [Takes the skull.] Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, + Horatio. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He + hath borne me on his back a thousand tunes. And now how abhorred + in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those + lips that I have kiss'd I know not how oft. Where be your gibes + now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment that + were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your + own grinning? Quite chap- fall'n? Now get you to my lady's + chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this + favour she must come. Make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, + tell me one thing. + Hor. What's that, my lord? + Ham. Dost thou think Alexander look'd o' this fashion i' th' earth? + Hor. E'en so. + Ham. And smelt so? Pah! + [Puts down the skull.] + Hor. E'en so, my lord. + Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not + imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander till he find it + stopping a bunghole? + Hor. 'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so. + Ham. No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty + enough, and likelihood to lead it; as thus: Alexander died, + Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is + earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam (whereto he + was converted) might they not stop a beer barrel? + Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, + Might stop a hole to keep the wind away. + O, that that earth which kept the world in awe + Should patch a wall t' expel the winter's flaw! + But soft! but soft! aside! Here comes the King- + + Enter [priests with] a coffin [in funeral procession], King, + Queen, Laertes, with Lords attendant.] + + The Queen, the courtiers. Who is this they follow? + And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken + The corse they follow did with desp'rate hand + Fordo it own life. 'Twas of some estate. + Couch we awhile, and mark. + [Retires with Horatio.] + Laer. What ceremony else? + Ham. That is Laertes, + A very noble youth. Mark. + Laer. What ceremony else? + Priest. Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd + As we have warranty. Her death was doubtful; + And, but that great command o'ersways the order, + She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd + Till the last trumpet. For charitable prayers, + Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her. + Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants, + Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home + Of bell and burial. + Laer. Must there no more be done? + Priest. No more be done. + We should profane the service of the dead + To sing a requiem and such rest to her + As to peace-parted souls. + Laer. Lay her i' th' earth; + And from her fair and unpolluted flesh + May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, + A minist'ring angel shall my sister be + When thou liest howling. + Ham. What, the fair Ophelia? + Queen. Sweets to the sweet! Farewell. + [Scatters flowers.] + I hop'd thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife; + I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, + And not have strew'd thy grave. + Laer. O, treble woe + Fall ten times treble on that cursed head + Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense + Depriv'd thee of! Hold off the earth awhile, + Till I have caught her once more in mine arms. + Leaps in the grave. + Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead + Till of this flat a mountain you have made + T' o'ertop old Pelion or the skyish head + Of blue Olympus. + Ham. [comes forward] What is he whose grief + Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow + Conjures the wand'ring stars, and makes them stand + Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, + Hamlet the Dane. [Leaps in after Laertes. + Laer. The devil take thy soul! + [Grapples with him]. + Ham. Thou pray'st not well. + I prithee take thy fingers from my throat; + For, though I am not splenitive and rash, + Yet have I in me something dangerous, + Which let thy wisdom fear. Hold off thy hand! + King. Pluck thein asunder. + Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet! + All. Gentlemen! + Hor. Good my lord, be quiet. + [The Attendants part them, and they come out of the + grave.] + Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme + Until my eyelids will no longer wag. + Queen. O my son, what theme? + Ham. I lov'd Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers + Could not (with all their quantity of love) + Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her? + King. O, he is mad, Laertes. + Queen. For love of God, forbear him! + Ham. 'Swounds, show me what thou't do. + Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself? + Woo't drink up esill? eat a crocodile? + I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine? + To outface me with leaping in her grave? + Be buried quick with her, and so will I. + And if thou prate of mountains, let them throw + Millions of acres on us, till our ground, + Singeing his pate against the burning zone, + Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth, + I'll rant as well as thou. + Queen. This is mere madness; + And thus a while the fit will work on him. + Anon, as patient as the female dove + When that her golden couplets are disclos'd, + His silence will sit drooping. + Ham. Hear you, sir! + What is the reason that you use me thus? + I lov'd you ever. But it is no matter. + Let Hercules himself do what he may, + The cat will mew, and dog will have his day. +Exit. + King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him. + Exit Horatio. + [To Laertes] Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech. + We'll put the matter to the present push.- + Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.- + This grave shall have a living monument. + An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; + Till then in patience our proceeding be. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Elsinore. A hall in the Castle. + +Enter Hamlet and Horatio. + + Ham. So much for this, sir; now shall you see the other. + You do remember all the circumstance? + Hor. Remember it, my lord! + Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting + That would not let me sleep. Methought I lay + Worse than the mutinies in the bilboes. Rashly- + And prais'd be rashness for it; let us know, + Our indiscretion sometime serves us well + When our deep plots do pall; and that should learn us + There's a divinity that shapes our ends, + Rough-hew them how we will- + Hor. That is most certain. + Ham. Up from my cabin, + My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark + Grop'd I to find out them; had my desire, + Finger'd their packet, and in fine withdrew + To mine own room again; making so bold + (My fears forgetting manners) to unseal + Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio + (O royal knavery!), an exact command, + Larded with many several sorts of reasons, + Importing Denmark's health, and England's too, + With, hoo! such bugs and goblins in my life- + That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, + No, not to stay the finding of the axe, + My head should be struck off. + Hor. Is't possible? + Ham. Here's the commission; read it at more leisure. + But wilt thou bear me how I did proceed? + Hor. I beseech you. + Ham. Being thus benetted round with villanies, + Or I could make a prologue to my brains, + They had begun the play. I sat me down; + Devis'd a new commission; wrote it fair. + I once did hold it, as our statists do, + A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much + How to forget that learning; but, sir, now + It did me yeoman's service. Wilt thou know + Th' effect of what I wrote? + Hor. Ay, good my lord. + Ham. An earnest conjuration from the King, + As England was his faithful tributary, + As love between them like the palm might flourish, + As peace should still her wheaten garland wear + And stand a comma 'tween their amities, + And many such-like as's of great charge, + That, on the view and knowing of these contents, + Without debatement further, more or less, + He should the bearers put to sudden death, + Not shriving time allow'd. + Hor. How was this seal'd? + Ham. Why, even in that was heaven ordinant. + I had my father's signet in my purse, + which was the model of that Danish seal; + Folded the writ up in the form of th' other, + Subscrib'd it, gave't th' impression, plac'd it safely, + The changeling never known. Now, the next day + Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent + Thou know'st already. + Hor. So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't. + Ham. Why, man, they did make love to this employment! + They are not near my conscience; their defeat + Does by their own insinuation grow. + 'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes + Between the pass and fell incensed points + Of mighty opposites. + Hor. Why, what a king is this! + Ham. Does it not, thinks't thee, stand me now upon- + He that hath kill'd my king, and whor'd my mother; + Popp'd in between th' election and my hopes; + Thrown out his angle for my Proper life, + And with such coz'nage- is't not perfect conscience + To quit him with this arm? And is't not to be damn'd + To let this canker of our nature come + In further evil? + Hor. It must be shortly known to him from England + What is the issue of the business there. + Ham. It will be short; the interim is mine, + And a man's life is no more than to say 'one.' + But I am very sorry, good Horatio, + That to Laertes I forgot myself, + For by the image of my cause I see + The portraiture of his. I'll court his favours. + But sure the bravery of his grief did put me + Into a tow'ring passion. + Hor. Peace! Who comes here? + + Enter young Osric, a courtier. + + Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. + Ham. I humbly thank you, sir. [Aside to Horatio] Dost know this + waterfly? + Hor. [aside to Hamlet] No, my good lord. + Ham. [aside to Horatio] Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a + vice to know him. He hath much land, and fertile. Let a beast be + lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the king's mess. 'Tis + a chough; but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt. + Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should impart + a thing to you from his Majesty. + Ham. I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of spirit. Put your + bonnet to his right use. 'Tis for the head. + Osr. I thank your lordship, it is very hot. + Ham. No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly. + Osr. It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed. + Ham. But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my complexion. + Osr. Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry, as 'twere- I cannot + tell how. But, my lord, his Majesty bade me signify to you that + he has laid a great wager on your head. Sir, this is the matter- + Ham. I beseech you remember. + [Hamlet moves him to put on his hat.] + Osr. Nay, good my lord; for mine ease, in good faith. Sir, here is + newly come to court Laertes; believe me, an absolute gentleman, + full of most excellent differences, of very soft society and + great showing. Indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card + or calendar of gentry; for you shall find in him the continent of + what part a gentleman would see. + Ham. Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you; though, I + know, to divide him inventorially would dozy th' arithmetic of + memory, and yet but yaw neither in respect of his quick sail. + But, in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of great + article, and his infusion of such dearth and rareness as, to make + true diction of him, his semblable is his mirror, and who else + would trace him, his umbrage, nothing more. + Osr. Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him. + Ham. The concernancy, sir? Why do we wrap the gentleman in our more + rawer breath + Osr. Sir? + Hor [aside to Hamlet] Is't not possible to understand in another + tongue? You will do't, sir, really. + Ham. What imports the nomination of this gentleman + Osr. Of Laertes? + Hor. [aside] His purse is empty already. All's golden words are + spent. + Ham. Of him, sir. + Osr. I know you are not ignorant- + Ham. I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did, it would not + much approve me. Well, sir? + Osr. You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is- + Ham. I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him in + excellence; but to know a man well were to know himself. + Osr. I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation laid on him + by them, in his meed he's unfellowed. + Ham. What's his weapon? + Osr. Rapier and dagger. + Ham. That's two of his weapons- but well. + Osr. The King, sir, hath wager'd with him six Barbary horses; + against the which he has impon'd, as I take it, six French + rapiers and poniards, with their assigns, as girdle, hangers, and + so. Three of the carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, + very responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of + very liberal conceit. + Ham. What call you the carriages? + Hor. [aside to Hamlet] I knew you must be edified by the margent + ere you had done. + Osr. The carriages, sir, are the hangers. + Ham. The phrase would be more germane to the matter if we could + carry cannon by our sides. I would it might be hangers till then. + But on! Six Barbary horses against six French swords, their + assigns, and three liberal-conceited carriages: that's the French + bet against the Danish. Why is this all impon'd, as you call it? + Osr. The King, sir, hath laid that, in a dozen passes between + yourself and him, he shall not exceed you three hits; he hath + laid on twelve for nine, and it would come to immediate trial + if your lordship would vouchsafe the answer. + Ham. How if I answer no? + Osr. I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial. + Ham. Sir, I will walk here in the hall. If it please his Majesty, + it is the breathing time of day with me. Let the foils be + brought, the gentleman willing, and the King hold his purpose, + I will win for him if I can; if not, I will gain nothing but my + shame and the odd hits. + Osr. Shall I redeliver you e'en so? + Ham. To this effect, sir, after what flourish your nature will. + Osr. I commend my duty to your lordship. + Ham. Yours, yours. [Exit Osric.] He does well to commend it + himself; there are no tongues else for's turn. + Hor. This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head. + Ham. He did comply with his dug before he suck'd it. Thus has he, + and many more of the same bevy that I know the drossy age dotes + on, only got the tune of the time and outward habit of encounter- + a kind of yesty collection, which carries them through and + through the most fann'd and winnowed opinions; and do but blow + them to their trial-the bubbles are out, + + Enter a Lord. + + Lord. My lord, his Majesty commended him to you by young Osric, who + brings back to him, that you attend him in the hall. He sends to + know if your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you will + take longer time. + Ham. I am constant to my purposes; they follow the King's pleasure. + If his fitness speaks, mine is ready; now or whensoever, provided + I be so able as now. + Lord. The King and Queen and all are coming down. + Ham. In happy time. + Lord. The Queen desires you to use some gentle entertainment to + Laertes before you fall to play. + Ham. She well instructs me. + [Exit Lord.] + Hor. You will lose this wager, my lord. + Ham. I do not think so. Since he went into France I have been in + continual practice. I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not + think how ill all's here about my heart. But it is no matter. + Hor. Nay, good my lord - + Ham. It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of gaingiving as + would perhaps trouble a woman. + Hor. If your mind dislike anything, obey it. I will forestall their + repair hither and say you are not fit. + Ham. Not a whit, we defy augury; there's 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 knows aught of what he leaves, + what is't to leave betimes? Let be. + + Enter King, Queen, Laertes, Osric, and Lords, with other + Attendants with foils and gauntlets. + A table and flagons of wine on it. + + King. Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me. + [The King puts Laertes' hand into Hamlet's.] + Ham. Give me your pardon, sir. I have done you wrong; + But pardon't, as you are a gentleman. + This presence knows, + And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd + With sore distraction. What I have done + That might your nature, honour, and exception + Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness. + Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet. + If Hamlet from himself be taken away, + And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes, + Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it. + Who does it, then? His madness. If't be so, + Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd; + His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy. + Sir, in this audience, + Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil + Free me so far in your most generous thoughts + That I have shot my arrow o'er the house + And hurt my brother. + Laer. I am satisfied in nature, + Whose motive in this case should stir me most + To my revenge. But in my terms of honour + I stand aloof, and will no reconcilement + Till by some elder masters of known honour + I have a voice and precedent of peace + To keep my name ungor'd. But till that time + I do receive your offer'd love like love, + And will not wrong it. + Ham. I embrace it freely, + And will this brother's wager frankly play. + Give us the foils. Come on. + Laer. Come, one for me. + Ham. I'll be your foil, Laertes. In mine ignorance + Your skill shall, like a star i' th' darkest night, + Stick fiery off indeed. + Laer. You mock me, sir. + Ham. No, by this bad. + King. Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet, + You know the wager? + Ham. Very well, my lord. + Your Grace has laid the odds o' th' weaker side. + King. I do not fear it, I have seen you both; + But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds. + Laer. This is too heavy; let me see another. + Ham. This likes me well. These foils have all a length? + Prepare to play. + Osr. Ay, my good lord. + King. Set me the stoups of wine upon that table. + If Hamlet give the first or second hit, + Or quit in answer of the third exchange, + Let all the battlements their ordnance fire; + The King shall drink to Hamlet's better breath, + And in the cup an union shall he throw + Richer than that which four successive kings + In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups; + And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, + The trumpet to the cannoneer without, + The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth, + 'Now the King drinks to Hamlet.' Come, begin. + And you the judges, bear a wary eye. + Ham. Come on, sir. + Laer. Come, my lord. They play. + Ham. One. + Laer. No. + Ham. Judgment! + Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit. + Laer. Well, again! + King. Stay, give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine; + Here's to thy health. + [Drum; trumpets sound; a piece goes off [within]. + Give him the cup. + Ham. I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile. + Come. (They play.) Another hit. What say you? + Laer. A touch, a touch; I do confess't. + King. Our son shall win. + Queen. He's fat, and scant of breath. + Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows. + The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet. + Ham. Good madam! + King. Gertrude, do not drink. + Queen. I will, my lord; I pray you pardon me. Drinks. + King. [aside] It is the poison'd cup; it is too late. + Ham. I dare not drink yet, madam; by-and-by. + Queen. Come, let me wipe thy face. + Laer. My lord, I'll hit him now. + King. I do not think't. + Laer. [aside] And yet it is almost against my conscience. + Ham. Come for the third, Laertes! You but dally. + pray You Pass with your best violence; + I am afeard You make a wanton of me. + Laer. Say you so? Come on. Play. + Osr. Nothing neither way. + Laer. Have at you now! + [Laertes wounds Hamlet; then] in scuffling, they + change rapiers, [and Hamlet wounds Laertes]. + King. Part them! They are incens'd. + Ham. Nay come! again! The Queen falls. + Osr. Look to the Queen there, ho! + Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord? + Osr. How is't, Laertes? + Laer. Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric. + I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery. + Ham. How does the Queen? + King. She sounds to see them bleed. + Queen. No, no! the drink, the drink! O my dear Hamlet! + The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. [Dies.] + Ham. O villany! Ho! let the door be lock'd. + Treachery! Seek it out. + [Laertes falls.] + Laer. It is here, Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slain; + No medicine in the world can do thee good. + In thee there is not half an hour of life. + The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, + Unbated and envenom'd. The foul practice + Hath turn'd itself on me. Lo, here I lie, + Never to rise again. Thy mother's poison'd. + I can no more. The King, the King's to blame. + Ham. The point envenom'd too? + Then, venom, to thy work. Hurts the King. + All. Treason! treason! + King. O, yet defend me, friends! I am but hurt. + Ham. Here, thou incestuous, murd'rous, damned Dane, + Drink off this potion! Is thy union here? + Follow my mother. King dies. + Laer. He is justly serv'd. + It is a poison temper'd by himself. + Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet. + Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, + Nor thine on me! Dies. + Ham. Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee. + I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu! + You that look pale and tremble at this chance, + That are but mutes or audience to this act, + Had I but time (as this fell sergeant, Death, + Is strict in his arrest) O, I could tell you- + But let it be. Horatio, I am dead; + Thou liv'st; report me and my cause aright + To the unsatisfied. + Hor. Never believe it. + I am more an antique Roman than a Dane. + Here's yet some liquor left. + Ham. As th'art a man, + Give me the cup. Let go! By heaven, I'll ha't. + O good Horatio, what a wounded name + (Things standing thus unknown) shall live behind me! + If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, + Absent thee from felicity awhile, + And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, + To tell my story. [March afar off, and shot within.] + What warlike noise is this? + Osr. Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland, + To the ambassadors of England gives + This warlike volley. + Ham. O, I die, Horatio! + The potent poison quite o'ercrows my spirit. + I cannot live to hear the news from England, + But I do prophesy th' election lights + On Fortinbras. He has my dying voice. + So tell him, with th' occurrents, more and less, + Which have solicited- the rest is silence. Dies. + Hor. Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, + And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! + [March within.] + Why does the drum come hither? + + Enter Fortinbras and English Ambassadors, with Drum, + Colours, and Attendants. + + Fort. Where is this sight? + Hor. What is it you will see? + If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search. + Fort. This quarry cries on havoc. O proud Death, + What feast is toward in thine eternal cell + That thou so many princes at a shot + So bloodily hast struck. + Ambassador. The sight is dismal; + And our affairs from England come too late. + The ears are senseless that should give us bearing + To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd + That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. + Where should We have our thanks? + Hor. Not from his mouth, + Had it th' ability of life to thank you. + He never gave commandment for their death. + But since, so jump upon this bloody question, + You from the Polack wars, and you from England, + Are here arriv'd, give order that these bodies + High on a stage be placed to the view; + And let me speak to the yet unknowing world + How these things came about. So shall You hear + Of carnal, bloody and unnatural acts; + Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters; + Of deaths put on by cunning and forc'd cause; + And, in this upshot, purposes mistook + Fall'n on th' inventors' heads. All this can I + Truly deliver. + Fort. Let us haste to hear it, + And call the noblest to the audience. + For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune. + I have some rights of memory in this kingdom + Which now, to claim my vantage doth invite me. + Hor. Of that I shall have also cause to speak, + And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more. + But let this same be presently perform'd, + Even while men's minds are wild, lest more mischance + On plots and errors happen. + Fort. Let four captains + Bear Hamlet like a soldier to the stage; + For he was likely, had he been put on, + To have prov'd most royally; and for his passage + The soldiers' music and the rites of war + Speak loudly for him. + Take up the bodies. Such a sight as this + Becomes the field but here shows much amiss. + Go, bid the soldiers shoot. + Exeunt marching; after the which a peal of ordnance + are shot off. + + +THE END |