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 dil'd 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!(59) note
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,
-- 330 --
And I a maid at your window, to be your Valentine.
Then up he rose, and don'd his cloaths, and dupt 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.
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 hath 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, Getrude!
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 her self, 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,
-- 331 --
Will nothing stick our persons to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering piece, in many places
Gives me superfluous death!
[A Noise within.
Queen.
Alack! what Noise is this?
Enter a Messenger.
King.
Where are my Switzers? let them guard the door.
What is the matter?
Mes.
Save your self, 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,
The ratifiers and props of every Ward;(60) note
They 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.
Laer.
Where is this King? Sirs! stand you all without.
All.
No, let's come in.
Laer.
I pray you, give me leave.
-- 332 --
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;
Crys 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 incenst? 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!(61) note
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.
-- 333 --
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, 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, Let her come in.
Laer.
How now, what Noise is that?
Enter Ophelia fantastically drest with straws and flowers.
O heat, dry up my brains! tears, seven times salt,
Burn out the sense and vertue 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?
Nature is fine in love; and where 'tis fine,(62) note
-- 334 --
It sends some precious instance of it self
After the thing it loves.
Oph.
They bore him bare-fac'd on the bier,
And on his Grave rains many a tear;
Fare you well, my dove!
Laer.
Hadst 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. 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, love, remember; and there's pancies, that's for
thoughts.
Laer.
A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance
fitted.
-- 335 --
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: you may wear your rue with
a difference. There's a dasie; 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 it self,
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.
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.
-- 336 --
King.
So you shall:
And where th' offence is, let the great ax fall.
I pray you, go with me.
[Exeunt.
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.
Sail.
He shall, Sir, a'nt 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 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.
-- 337 --
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.
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.
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 myself,
(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,
-- 338 --
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 ourself,
And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine—
How now? what news?
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;
-- 339 --
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,(63) note
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
Importing health and graveness.—Two months since,
Here was a gentleman of Normandy;
I've seen myself, 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?
-- 340 --
King.
A Norman.
Laer.
Upon my life, Lamond.
King.
The very same.
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,(64) note
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:
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;
-- 341 --
For goodness, growing to a pleurisie,(65) note
Dies in his own too much; what 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 spend-thrift sigh
That hurts by easing; but to th' quick o' th' ulcer—
Hamlet comes back; what would you undertake
To shew your self your father's Son indeed
More than in words?
Laert.
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,
-- 342 --
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 chuse
A 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,
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.
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?
Queen.
There is a willow grows aslant a Brook,
That shews his hoar leaves in the glassie stream:
-- 343 --
There with fantastick garlands did she come,
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,
(That liberal shepherds give a grosser name;
But our cold maids do dead mens fingers call them;)
There on the pendant boughs, her coronet weeds
Clambring to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies and her self
Fell in the weeping brook; her cloaths spread wide,
And mermaid-like, a while 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 indewed
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.
-- 344 --
Lewis Theobald [1733], The works of Shakespeare: in seven volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected; With notes, Explanatory and Critical; By Mr. Theobald (Printed for A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch [and] J. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11201].
