Reynoldo.
Polonius.
Give him this mony, and these notes, Reynoldo.
Rey.
I will, my Lord.
Pol.
You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynoldo,
Before you visit him, to make inquiry
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 expence; and finding,
By this encompassment and drift of question,
That they do know my son, come you more near;
Then 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, Reynoldo?
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.
-- 174 --
Rey.
As gaming, my Lord—
Pol.
Ay, or 9 note
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 1 notean utter 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 out-break of a fiery mind,
2 noteA savageness in unreclaimed blood
3 noteOf 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 wit.
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, he you'ld sound,
Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes,
The youth you breathe of, guilty, be assur'd,
He closes with you in this consequence;
4 note
Good Sir, or so, or Friend, or Gentleman,
According to the phrase or the addition
Of man and country.
-- 175 --
Rey.
Very good, my Lord.
Pol.
And then, Sir, does he this;
He does—what was I about to say?
I was about to say something—where did I leave?—
Rey.
At, closes in the consequence.
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, with such and such; and, as you say,
There was he gaming, there o'ertook in's rowse;
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 falshood takes this carp of truth;
And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,
With windlaces, and with assays of Byas,
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'w' you. Fare you well.
Rey.
Good my Lord—
Pol.
Observe his inclination 5 notein yourself.
Rey.
I shall, my Lord.
Pol.
And let him ply his musick.
Rey.
Well, my Lord.
[Exit.
-- 176 --
SCENE II.
Enter Ophelia.
Pol.
Farewel. How now, Ophelia, what's the matter?
Oph.
Alas, my Lord, I have been so affrighted!
Pol.
With what, in the name of heav'n?
Oph.
My Lord, as I was sewing in my closet,
Lord Hamlet, with his Doublet all unbrac'd,
No hat upon his head, 6 note
his stockings loose,
Ungarter'd, and down-gyred to his ancle,
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; thus 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 time staid he so;
-- 177 --
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,
That it did seem to shatter all his bulk,
And end his Being. Then 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 ecstacy of love,
Whose violent property foredoes itself,
And leads the Will to desp'rate undertakings,
As oft as any passion under heav'n,
That does afflict our natures. I am sorry;
What, have you giv'n him any hard words of late?
Oph.
No, my good lord; but, as you did command,
I did repel his letters, and deny'd
His access to me.
Pol.
That hath made him mad.
I'm sorry, that with better speed and judgment
7 note
I had not quoted him. I fear'd, he trifl'd,
And meant to wreck thee; but beshrew my jealousy;
It seems, 8 note
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.
-- 178 --
9 note
This must be known; which, being kept close, might move
More grief to hide, than hate to utter, love.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Changes to the Palace.
Enter King, Queen, Rosincrantz, Guildenstern, Lords, and other Attendants.
King.
Welcome, dear Rosincrantz, and Guildenstern!
Moreover that we much did long to see you,
The need, we have to use you did provoke
Our hasty sending. Something you have heard
Of Hamlet's transformation; so I call it,
Since not 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 days brought up with him,
And since so neighbour'd to his youth and humour,
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,
-- 179 --
So much as from occasions you may glean,
If 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
1 noteTo shew us so much gentry and good-will,
As to expend your time with us a while,
2 noteFor 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 sov'reign pow'r you have of us,
Put your dread pleasures more into command
Than to entreaty.
Guil.
But we both obey,
And here give up ourselves, 3 notein the full bent,
To lay our service freely at your feet.
King.
Thanks, Rosincrantz, and gentle Guildenstern.
Queen.
Thanks, Guildenstern, and gentle Rosincrantz.
And, I beseech you, instantly to visit
My too much changed son. Go, some of ye,
And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.
Guil.
Heav'ns make our presence and our practices
Pleasant and helpful to him!
[Exeunt Ros. and Guil.
Queen.
Amen.
Enter Polonius.
Pol.
Th' ambassadors from Norway, my good Lord,
Are joyfully return'd.
-- 180 --
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 4 notethe trail of policy so sure
As I have us'd to do, that I have found
The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.
King.
Oh, speak of that, that I do long to hear.
Pol.
Give first admittance to th'ambassadors.
My news shall be 5 notethe fruit of that great feast.
King.
Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in.
[Exit Pol.
He tells me, my sweet Queen, that 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'er-hasty marriage.
SCENE IV.
Re-enter Polonius, with Voltimand, and Cornelius.
King.
Well, we shall sift him.—Welcome, my good friends!
Say, Voltimand, 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
-- 181 --
It was against your Highness: Whereat griev'd,
That so his sickness, age, and impotence
Was falsely borne in hand, sends out Arrests
On Fontinbras; 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,
6 noteGives him threescore thousand crowns in annual fee;
And his Commission to employ those soldiers,
So levied as before, against the Polack:
With an entreaty, herein further shewn,
That it might please you to give quiet Pass
Through your Dominions for this enterprize,
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.
Mean time, we thank you for your well-took labour.
Go to your Rest; 7 noteat night we'll feast together.
Most welcome home!
[Exeunt Ambas.
Pol.
This business is well ended.
8 note
My liege, and Madam, 9 noteto expostulate
-- 182 --
What Majesty should be, what duty is,
Why day is day, night night, and time is time,
-- 183 --
Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time.
Therefore, since brevity's 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 farewel 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, whilst she is mine;
-- 184 --
Who in her duty and obedience, mark,
Hath given me this; now gather, and surmise.
[He opens a letter, and reads.]
1 note
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—These
to her excellent white bosom, these.—
Queen.
Came this from Hamlet to her?
Pol.
Good Madam, stay a while. I will be faithful.
Doubt thou, the stars are fire,
[Reading.
Doubt, that the Sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt, I love.
Oh, dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have
-- 185 --
not art to reckon my groans; but that I love thee best,
oh most best, believe it.
Adieu.
Thine evermore, most dear Lady, whilst
this Machine is to him, Hamlet.
This in obedience hath my daughter shewn me,
And, 2 notemore 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
3 note
If I had play'd the desk or table-book,
Or giv'n my heart a working, 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 sphere,
-- 186 --
This must not be; and then, I precepts gave her,
That she should lock herself from his resort,
Admit no messengers, receive no tokens:
4 note
Which done, she took the fruits of my advice;
And he repulsed, 5 note
a short tale to make,
Fell to a sadness, then into a fast,
Thence to a watching, thence into a weakness,
Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension,
Into the madness wherein now he raves,
And all we wail for.
King.
Do you think this?
Queen.
It may be very likely.
Pol.
Hath there been such a time, I'd fain know that,
That I have positively said, 'tis so,
When it prov'd otherwise?
King.
Not that I know.
Pol.
Take this from this, if this be otherwise.
[Pointing to his Head and Shoulder.
If circumstances lead me, I will find
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
-- 187 --
Within the center.
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 be 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.
SCENE V.
Enter Hamlet reading.
Queen.
But, look, where, sadly the poor wretch comes reading.
Pol.
Away, I do beseech you, both away.
I'll board him presently.
[Exeunt King and Queen.
Oh, give me leave.—How does my good Lord Hamlet?
Ham.
Well, God o' 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.
-- 188 --
Ham.
6 note
For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog,
Being a God, kissing carrion—
Have you a daughter?
-- 189 --
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.
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; and, truly, in my youth,
[Aside.
I suffered 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 whom?
Pol.
I mean the matter that you read, my Lord.
Ham.
7 note
Slanders, Sir: for the satirical slave 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,
-- 190 --
Sir, tho' I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I
hold it not honesty to have it thus set down; for
yourself, Sir, shall be as old as I am, if, like a
crab, you could go backward.
Pol.
Though this be madness, yet there's method in't.
[Aside.
Will you walk out of the air, my Lord?
Ham.
Into my grave.—
Pol.
Indeed, that is out o' th' air:—
How pregnant sometimes his replies are?
A happiness that often madness hits on,
Which sanity and reason could not be
So prosp'rously deliver'd of. I'll 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 any thing that
I will more willingly part withal, except my life.
Pol.
Fare you well, my Lord.
Ham.
These tedious old fools!
Pol.
You go to seek Lord Hamlet; there he is.
[Exit.
SCENE VI.
Enter Rosincrantz and Guildenstern.
Ros.
God save you, Sir.
Guil.
Mine honour'd Lord!
Ros.
My most dear Lord!
Ham.
My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern?
Oh, Rosincrantz, good lads! how do ye both?
Ros.
As the indifferent children of the earth.
Guil.
Happy, in that we are not over-happy:
-- 191 --
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, in her privates we.
Ham.
In the secret parts of fortune? oh, most
true; she is a strumpet. What news?
Ros.
None, my Lord, but that the world's grown
honest.
Ham.
Then is dooms day 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.
Oh God, I could be bounded in a nut shell,
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 8 notethe shadow
of a dream.
Ham.
A dream itself is but a shadow.
-- 192 --
Ros.
Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and
light a quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow.
Ham.
9 noteThen are our beggars, bodies; and our
monarchs and out-stretch'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 Elsinoor?
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 of a half-penny. 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.
Any thing, but to the 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.
What say you?
[To Guilden.
-- 193 --
Ham.
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. * noteI have of late, but
wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all
custom of exercise; and, indeed, it goes so heavily
with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth,
seems to me a steril promontory; this most excellent
canopy the air, look you, this brave o'er-hanging firmament,
this majestical roof fretted with golden fire,
why, it appears 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.—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, 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 accosted 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 foyl and target; the lover shall
-- 194 --
not sigh gratis; the humorous man, 2 note
shall end his
part in peace; and 3 notethe lady shall say her mind freely,
or the blank verse shall halt for't. What Players are
they?
Ros.
Even those you were wont to take 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.
4 noteI think, their inhibition comes by 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, they are not.
* note“Ham.
How comes it? do they grow rusty?
“Ros.
Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted
pace; but there is, Sir, an Aiery of Children,
5 note
little Eyases, that 6 notecry out on the top of question;
-- 195 --
and are most tyrannically clapt for't; these are now
the fashion, and so berattle the common stages, (so
they call them) that many wearing rapiers are afraid
of goose-quills, and dare scarce come thither.
“Ham.
What, are they children? who maintains
'em? how are they 7 noteescoted? 8 notewill 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
on to controversy. There was, for a while, no
mony bid for argument, unless the poet and the
player went to cuffs in the question.
“Ham.
Is't possible?
“Guil.
Oh, there has been much throwing about
of brains.
“Ham.
Do the Boys carry it away?
“Ros.
Ay, that they do, my Lord, 9 noteHercules and
his load too.
“Ham.
1 noteIt is not strange; for mine uncle is King of
Denmark; and those, that would make mowes at him
while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an
hundred ducats a-piece, for his picture in little. There
is something in this more than natural, if philosophy
could find it out.
[Flourish for the Players.
-- 196 --
Guil.
There are the Players.
Ham.
Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinoor.
Your hands. Come then. The appurtenance of welcome
is fashion and ceremony; 2 notelet me comply
with you in this garbe, lest my extent to the players,
which, I tell you, must shew fairly outward, 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, 3 noteI know a hawk from a hand-saw.
SCENE VII.
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 swathling-clouts.
Ros.
Haply, 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; for on 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.
-- 197 --
Ham.
4 noteBuzze, buzze.—
Pol.
Upon mine honour—
Ham.
5 noteThen came each Actor on his ass—
Pol.
The best Actors in the world, either for tragedy,
comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical,
historical-pastoral, scene undividable, or Poem unlimited:
Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too
light. 6 noteFor the law of writ, and the Liberty, these
are the only men.
Ham.
Oh, Jephtha, judge of Israel, what a treasure
hadst thou!
Pol.
What a treasure had he, my Lord?
Ham.
Why, one fair daughter, and no more,
The which he loved passing well.
Pol.
Still on my daughter.
Ham.
Am I not i' th' right, old Jephtha?
Pol.
If you call me Jephtha, 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: 7 note
the first
-- 198 --
row of the rubrick will shew you more. For, look,
where 8 notemy abridgments come.
Enter four or five Players.
Y'are welcome, masters, welcome all. I am glad to
see thee well; welcome, good friends. Oh! old
friend! thy face is valanc'd, since I saw thee last:
com'st thou to beard me in Denmark? What! my
young lady and mistress? b'erlady, your ladyship is
nearer heaven than when I saw you last, by the altitude
of a chioppine. Pray God, your voice, like a
piece of uncurrent gold, 9 notebe not crack'd within the
ring.—Masters, you are all welcome; we'll e'en to't
1 notelike friendly faulconers, fly at any thing 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
2 noteCaviare6Q0261 to the general; but it was as I receiv'd it,
and others whose judgment in such matters 3 note
cried in
the top of mine, an excellent Play; well digested in
the scenes, 4 noteset down with as much modesty as cunning.
-- 199 --
I remember, one said, there was no salt in the
lines, to make the matter savoury; nor no matter in
the phrase, 5 notethat might indite the author of affection;
6 note
but call'd it, an honest method, as wholesome as
sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One
speech in it I chiefly lov'd; 'twas Æneas's 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,—It is not so;—
it begins with Pyrrhus.
The rugged Pyrrhus, he,6Q0262 whose sable arms,
Black as his purpose, did the Night resemble
When he lay couched in the ominous horse;
Hath now his dread and black complexion smear'd
With heraldry more dismal; head to foot,
Now is he total gules; horridly trickt
With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,
Bak'd and impasted with the parching fires,
That lend a tyrannous and damned light
To murders vile. Roasted in wrath and fire,
And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore,
With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Old grandsire Priam seeks.
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,
-- 200 --
Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide;
But with the whif 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 rev'rend 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 heav'ns, 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,
A roused vengeance sets him new a work,
And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
On Mars his 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 heav'n,
As low as to the fiends.
Pol.
This is too long.
Ham.
It shall to th' barber's with your beard.
Pr'ythee; say on; he's for a jigg, or a tale of bawdry,
or he sleeps. Say on, come to Hecuba.
1 Play.
But who, oh! who, had seen 7 note
the mobled
Queen,—
-- 201 --
Ham.
The mobled Queen?
Pol.
That's good; mobled Queen, is good.
1 Play.
Run bare-foot up and down, threatning 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'er-teemed loins,
A blanket in th' 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 heav'n,
And passion in the Gods.
Pol.
Look, whe're he has not turn'd his colour, and
has tears in's eyes. Pr'ythee, 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 ye 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 liv'd.
Pol.
My Lord, I will use them according to their
desert.
Ham.
Odd's bodikins, man, much better. Use
every man after his desert, and who shall '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.
[Exit Polonius.
Ham.
Follow him, Friends: we'll hear a play tomorrow.
Dost thou hear me, old friend, can you
play the murder of Gonzaga?
Play.
Ay, my Lord.
-- 202 --
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
ye not?
Play.
Ay, my Lord.
Ham.
Very well. Follow that Lord, and, look,
you mock him not. My good friends, [to Ros. and
Guild.] I'll leave you 'till night. You are welcome to
Elsinoor.
Ros.
Good my Lord.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VIII.
Manet Hamlet.
Ham.
Ay, so, God b'wi'ye. Now I am alone.
Oh, 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, 8 note
all his visage wan'd:
Tears in his eyes, distraction in his 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 9 notethe cue for passion,
That I have? He would drown the stage with tears,
-- 203 --
And cleave 1 notethe general ear with horrid speech,
Make mad the guilty, and appall the free;
Confound the ignorant, and amaze, indeed,
The very faculty of ears and eyes.
Yet I,
A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,
Like John-a-dreams, 2 note
unpregnant of my cause,
And can say nothing. No, not for a King,
Upon whose property and most dear life
3 note
A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain, breaks my pate a-cross,
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
Tweaks me by th' nose, gives me the lye i'th' throat,
As deep as to the lungs? who does me this?
Yet 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, letcherous, 4 notekindless villain!
Why, what an ass am I? this is most brave,
That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,
Prompted to my revenge by heav'n and hell,
Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
And fall a cursing like a very drab,
A Scullion. Fy upon't! foh!
5 noteAbout, my brain! I've heard,
That guilty creatures, sitting at a Play,
Have by the very cunning of the Scene
-- 204 --
Been struck so to the soul, that presently
They have proclaim'd their malefactions.
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these Players
Play something like the murder of my father,
Before mine uncle. I'll observe his looks;
I'll 6 notetent him to the quick, 7 noteif he but blench,
I know my course. This Spirit, that I have seen,
May be the 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
8 note
More relative than this: The Play's the thing,
Wherein I'll catch the Conscience of the King.
[Exit.
Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
