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.
[To Rosincrantz and Guildenstern, who go out.
Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to night?
King.
What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet?
Queen.
Mad as the seas, and wind, when both contend
Which is the mightier; in his lawless fit,
Behind the arras hearing something stir,
He whips his rapier out, and cries, 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
Ev'n on the pith of life. Where is he gone?
-- 217 --
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,
Shews 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 Rosincrantz 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 drag'd him.
Go seek him out, speak fair, and bring the body
Into the chappel. Pray you, haste in this.
[Ex. Rosincrantz 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. [1 noteFor, haply, Slander]
(Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,
As level as the cannon to his blank,
Transports its poyson'd shot;) may miss our Name,
And hit the woundless air.—O, come away;
My soul is full of discord and dismay.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham.
Safely stowed.—
Gentlemen within.
Hamlet! lord Hamlet!
Ham.
What noise? who calls on Hamlet?
Oh, here they come.
-- 218 --
Enter Rosincrantz, 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 chappel.
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 spunge, what replication
should be made by the son of a King?
Ros.
Take you me for a spunge, my lord?
Ham.
Ay, Sir, that sokes 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 apple, in the corner of his jaw; first mouth'd,
to be last swallow'd: when he needs what you have
glean'd, it is but squeezing you, and, spunge, 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—
Guild.
A thing, my lord?
Ham.
Of nothing: bring me to him; 2 notehide fox,
and all after.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter King.
King.
I've sent to seek him, and to find the body;
How dang'rous is it, that this man goes loose!
-- 219 --
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,
This sudden sending him away must seem
Deliberate pause: diseases, desp'rate grown,
By desperate appliance are relieved,
Or not at all.
Enter Rosincrantz.
How now? 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.
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 politique 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 our
selves 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.
3 noteA man may fish with the worm that hath
eat of a King, eat of the fish that hath fed of that
worm.
King.
What dost thou mean by this?
-- 220 --
Ham.
Nothing, but to shew you how a King may
go a progress through the guts of a beggar.
King.
Where is Polonius?
Ham.
In heav'n, send thither to see. If your messenger
find him not there, seek him i' th' other place
your self. But, indeed, if you find him not within
this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs
into the lobbey.
King.
Go seek him there.
Ham.
He will stay 'till ye come.
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 every thing 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! farewel, 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 every thing is seal'd and done
That else leans on th' affair; pray you make haste.
[Exeunt Rosincrantz 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
-- 221 --
Pays homage to us; thou may'st 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 hectick in my blood he rages,
And thou must cure me; 'till I know 'tis done,
How-e'er my haps, my joys will ne'er begin.
[Exit.
SCENE IV.
A Camp on the Frontiers of Denmark.
Enter Fortinbras with an Army.
For.
Go, Captain, from me, greet the Danish King;
Tell him, that, by his license, Fortinbras
Claims the conveyance of a promis'd March
Over his Realm. 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.
[Exit Fortinbras, with the Army.
Enter Hamlet, Rosincrantz, Guildenstern, &c.
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 of old Norway, Fortinbras.
Ham.
Goes it against the main of Poland, Sir,
Or for some frontier.
Capt.
Truly to speak it, 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,
-- 222 --
A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.
Ham.
Why, then the Polacke never will defend it.
Capt.
Yes, 'tis 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 shews no cause without
Why the man dies. I humbly thank you, Sir.
Capt.
God b' w' ye, Sir.
Ros.
Will't please you go, my lord?
Ham.
I'll be with you strait, go a little before.
[Exeunt.
Manet Hamlet.
&wlquo;How all occasions do inform against me,
&wlquo;And spur my dull-revenge? what is a man,
&wlquo;If his chief good and market of his time
&wlquo;Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
&wlquo;Sure, he that made us with such 4 notelarge discourse,
&wlquo;Looking before and after, gave us not
&wlquo;That capability and god-like reason
&wlquo;To rust in us unus'd. Now whether it be
&wlquo;Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
&wlquo;Of thinking too precisely on th' event,
&wlquo;(A thought, which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom,
&wlquo;And ever three parts coward:) &wlquo;I do not know
&wlquo;Why yet I live to say this thing's to do;
&wlquo;Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means
&wlquo;To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me;
&wlquo;Witness this army of such mass and charge,
&wlquo;Led by a delicate and tender Prince,
&wlquo;Whose spirit, with divine ambition puft,
-- 223 --
&wlquo;Makes mouths at the invisible event;
&wlquo;Exposing what is mortal and unsure
&wlquo;To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
&wlquo;Ev'n for an egg-shell. 'Tis not to be great,
Never 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 kill'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 fantasie 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, then, from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth.
[Exit.
SCENE V.
Changes to a Palace.
Enter Queen, Horatio, 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;
-- 224 --
Which as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield them,
Indeed would make one think, there might be thought;
5 noteTho' nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
Hor.
'Twere good she were spoken with, for she may strow
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
Let her come in.—
Queen.
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.
How should I your true Love know from another one?
6 noteBy his cockle hat and staff, and his sandal shoon.
[Singing.
Queen.
Alas, sweet lady; what imports this Song?
Oph.
Say you? nay, pray you, mark.
He's dead and gone, lady, he's dead and gone;
At his head a grass-green turf, at his heels a stone.
-- 225 --
Enter King.
Queen.
Nay, but Ophelia—
Oph.
Pray you, mark.
White the shrowd as the mountain snow.
Queen.
Alas, look here, my lord.
Oph.
Larded all with sweet flowers:
Which bewept to the grave did go
With true love showers.
King.
How do ye, pretty lady?
Oph.
Well, God yield you! They say, 7 notethe 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 us have no words of this; but when
they ask you what it means, say you this:
To morrow is St. Valentine's day, all in the morn betime,
And I a maid at your window, to be your Valentine.
Then up he rose, and don'd his cloaths, 8 noteand do'pt the chamber door;
Let in the maid, that out a maid never departed more.
King.
Pretty Ophelia!
Oph.
Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end on't.
By Gis, and by S. Charity,
Alack, and fie for shame!
Young men will do't, if they come to't,
By cock, they are to blame.
-- 226 --
Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
You promis'd me to wed:
So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
And thou hadst not come to my bed.
King.
How long has she been thus?
Oph.
I hope, all will be well. We must be patient;
but I cannot chuse but weep, to think, they should 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.
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 unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers,
For good Polonius' death; (We've done but greenly,
In private to interr him;) poor Ophelia,
Divided from herself, and her fair judgment;
(Without the which we're pictures, or mere beasts:)
Last, and as much containing as all these,
Her brother is in secret come from France:
Feeds on this wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father's death;
Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd,
Will nothing stick our persons to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
9 noteLike to a murthering piece, in many places
-- 227 --
Gives me superfluous death!
[A noise within.
Queen.
Alack! what Noise is this?
SCENE VI.
Enter a Messenger.
King.
Where are my Switzers? let them guard the door.
What is the matter?
Mes.
Save yourself, my lord.
The ocean, over-peering of his list,
Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste,
Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
O'er-bears your officers; the rabble call him lord;
And as the world were now but to begin,
Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
1 note
The ratifiers and props of every ward;
The cry, “Chuse we Laertes for our King.”
Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the Clouds;
“Laertes shall be King, Laertes King!”
Queen.
How chearfully on the false trail they cry!
Oh, this is counter, you false Danish dogs.
[Noise within.
Enter Laertes, with a Party at the Door.
King.
The doors are broke.
-- 228 --
Laer.
Where is this King? Sirs! stand you all without.
All.
No, let's come in.
Laer.
I pray you, give me leave.
All.
We will, we will.
[Exeunt.
Laer.
I thank you, keep the door.
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 and unsmirch'd brow
Of my true mother.
King.
What is the cause, Laertes,
That thy Rebellion looks so giant-like?
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 its will. Tell me, Laertes,
Why are you 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 worlds 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.
-- 229 --
King.
Good Laertes,
If you desire to know the certainty
Of your dear father, is't writ in your revenge,
(That sweep-stake) 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-rendring 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 sensible in grief for it,
It shall as level to your judgment pierce,
As day does to your eye. [A noise within. &wlquo;Let her come in.]
Laer.
How now, what noise is that?
SCENE VII.
Enter Ophelia, fantastically dress'd with straws and flowers.
O heat, dry up my brains! tears, seven times salt,
Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
By heav'n, thy madness shall be paid with weight,
'Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May!
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
O heav'ns, is't possible a young maid's wits
Should be as mortal as an old man's life?
2 note
Nature is fal'n in love; and where 'tis fal'n,
-- 230 --
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.
Oph.
They bore him bare-fac'd on the bier,
And on his Grave remains many a tear;
Fare you well, my dove!
Laer.
Had'st thou thy wits, and didst perswade Revenge,
It could not move thus.
Oph.
You must sing, down a-down, and you call
him a-down-a. 3 noteO how the weal 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, love, remember; and there's pancies, that's for
thoughts.
-- 231 --
Laer.
A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance
fitted.
Oph.
There's fennel for you, and columbines;
4 notethere's rue for you, and here's some for me. We
may call it herb of grace o' Sundays: you may wear
your rue with a difference. There's a daisie; I would
give you some violets, but they withered all when my
father dy'd: they say, he made a good end;
For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.
Laer.
Thought, and affliction, passion, hell itself,
She turns to favour, and to prettiness.
Oph.
And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead, go to thy death-bed,
He never will come again.
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his pole:
He is gone, he is gone, and we cast away mone,
Gramercy on his soul!
And of all christian souls! God b' w' ye.
[Exit Ophelia.
-- 232 --
Laer.
Do you see this, you Gods!
King.
Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
Or you deny me right: go but a-part,
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 heav'n to earth,
That I must call't in question.
King.
So you shall:
5 note
And where th' offence is, let the great tax fall.
I pray you, go with me.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VIII.
Enter Horatio, with an attendant.
Hor.
What are they, that would speak with me?
Ser.
Sailors, Sir; they say, they have letters for you.
Hor.
Let them come in.
I do not know from what part of the world
I should be greeted, if not from lord Hamlet.
Enter Sailors.
Sail.
God bless you, Sir.
Hor.
Let him bless thee too.
-- 233 --
Sail.
He 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.
Horatio 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
chace. Finding our selves 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
haste as thou wouldest fly death. I have words to speak
in thy ear, will make thee dumb; yet are they much
too light for the matter. These good fellows will bring
thee where I am. Rosincrantz and Guildenstern hold
their course for England. Of them I have much to tell
thee, farewel.
He that thou knowest thine, Hamlet.
Come, I will make 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 IX.
Enter King and Laertes.
King.
Now must your conscience my acquittance seal,
And you must put me in your heart for friend;
-- 234 --
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.
Two special reasons,
Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd,
And yet to me are strong. The Queen, his mother,
Lives almost by his looks; and for my self,
(My virtue or my plague, be't 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 publick 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 gyves to graces. So that my arrows,
Too slightly timbred 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 desperate 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 shall soon hear more.
I lov'd your father, and we love our self,
And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine—
How now? what news?
-- 235 --
Enter Messenger.
Mes.
Letters, my lord, from Hamlet.
These to your Majesty: this to the Queen.
King.
From Hamlet? who brought them?
Mes.
Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not:
They were given me by Claudio, he receiv'd them.
King.
Laertes, you shall hear them: leave us, all—
[Exit Mes.
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 th' occasion of my
sudden 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'm 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 diddest thou.
King.
If it be so, Laertes,
As how should it be so?—how, otherwise?—
Will you be rul'd by me?
Laer.
I, so you'll not o'er-rule me to a peace.
King.
To thine own peace: if he be now return'd,
As liking not his voyage, and that he means
No more to undertake it; I will work him
To an exploit now ripe in my device,
Under the which he shall not chuse but fall:
And for his death no wind of Blame shall breathe;
-- 236 --
But ev'n his mother shall uncharge the practice,
And call it accident.
Laer.
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 talkt of since your travel much,
And that in Hamlet's Hearing, for a quality
Wherein, they say, you shine; your sum 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 feather in the cap of youth,
Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes
The light and careless livery that it wears,
Than settled age his sables, and his weeds
6 note
Importing wealth and graveness.—Two months since,
Here was a gentleman of Normandy;
I've seen my self, and serv'd against the French,
And they can well on horse-back; but this Gallant
Had witchcraft in't, he grew unto his seat;
And to such wondrous doing brought his horse,
As he had been incorps'd and demy-natur'd
With the brave beast; so far he top'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, Lamond.
King.
The same.
-- 237 --
Laer.
I know him well; he is the brooch, 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 especial,
That he cry'd 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 'em—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 him.
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:
&wlquo;There lives within the very flame of love
&wlquo;A kind of wick, or snuff, that will abate it,
And nothing is at a like goodness still;
7 noteFor goodness growing to a pleurisie,
Dies in his own too much; what we would do,
We should do when we would; for this would changes,
-- 238 --
And hath abatements and delays as many
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
8 note
And then this should is like a spend-thrift's sign
That hurts by easing; but to th' quick o' th' ulcer—
Hamlet comes back; what would you undertake
To shew yourself your father's Son indeed
More than in words?
Laer.
To cut his throat i' th' church.
King.
No place indeed, should murther sanctuarise;
Revenge should have no bounds; but, good Laertes,
Will you do this? keep close within your chamber;
Hamlet, 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 Frenchmen 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 chuse
9 noteA sword unbated, and in a pass of practice
Requite him for your father.
Laer.
I will do't;
And for the 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,
-- 239 --
Collected from all Simples that have virtue
Under the Moon, can save the thing from death,
That 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 farther think of this;
Weigh, what convenience both of time and means
May fit us to our shape. If this should fail,
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 should 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,
(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 tuck,
Our purpose may hold there.
SCENE X.
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! oh where?
&wlquo;Queen.
&wlquo;There is a willow grows aslant a Brook,
&wlquo;That shews his hoar leaves in the glassie stream:
&wlquo;There with fantastick garlands did she come,
&wlquo;Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,
&wlquo;(That liberal shepherds give a grosser name to;
&wlquo;But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them;)
&wlquo;There on the pendant boughs, her coronet weeds
&wlquo;Clambring to hang, an envious sliver broke;
&wlquo;When down her weedy trophies and herself
-- 240 --
&wlquo;Fell in the weeping brook; her cloaths spread wide,
&wlquo;And mermaid-like, a while they bore her up;
&wlquo;1 note
Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes,
&wlquo;As one incapable of her own distress;
&wlquo;Or like a creature native, and indued
&wlquo;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 drowns it.
[Exit.
King.
Follow, Gertrude:
How much had I to do to calm his rage!
Now fear I, this will give it start again;
Therefore, let's follow.
[Exeunt.
-- 241 --
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
