SCENE I.
The PALACE.
Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrantz, Guildenstern, and Lords.
King.
And can you by no drift of conference
Get from him why he puts on this confusion,
Grating so harshly all his days of quiet,
With turbulent and dang'rous lunacy?
-- 205 --
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.
9 note
Niggard of question, but of our demands
Most free in his reply.
Queen.
Did you assay him to any pastime?
Ros.
Madam, it fell out, that certain Players
We * noteo'er-raught on the way; of these we told him;
And there did seem in him a kind of joy
To hear of it. They are 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 into these delights.
-- 206 --
Ros.
We shall, my Lord.
[Exeunt.
King.
Sweet Gertrude leave us too;
For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither,
That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
1 noteAffront 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 behaved,
If't be th'affliction of his love, or no,
That thus he suffers for.
Queen.
I shall obey you:
And for my part, Ophelia, I do wish,
That your good beauties be the happy cause
Of Hamlet's wildness! So shall I hope, your virtues
May 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 ye,
We will bestow ourselves—Read on this book;
[To Oph.
That shew of such an exercise may colour
Your loneliness. We're oft to blame in this,
2 note'Tis too much prov'd, that with devotion's visage,
And pious action, we do sugar o'er
The devil himself.
King.
Oh, 'tis too true.
How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience!
[Aside.
The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastring art,
Is not 3 notemore ugly to the thing that helps it,
-- 207 --
Than is my deed to my most painted word.
Oh heavy burden!
Pol.
I hear him coming; let's withdraw, my Lord.
[Exeunt all but Ophelia.
SCENE II.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham.
4 note
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;
-- 208 --
5 note
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 heart-ache, 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 6 notemortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect,
That makes Calamity of so long life.
For who would bear 7 note
the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
-- 209 --
The pang 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 fardles bear,
8 noteTo groan and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
That undiscover'd country, from whose bourne
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!
[Seeing Ophelia with a book.
The fair Ophelia? 9 noteNymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remembred.
Oph.
Good my Lord,
How does your Honour for this many a day?
Ham.
I humbly thank you, well.
Oph.
My Lord, I have remembrances of yours,
-- 210 --
That I have longed long to re-deliver.
I pray you, now receive them.
Ham.
No, I never gave you ought.
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; that 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.
1 noteThat if you be honest and fair, you 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 its
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 believed me. For virtue
cannot so inoculate our old stock, but we shall relish
of it. I lov'd you not.
Oph.
I was the more deceiv'd.
Ham.
Get thee to a nunnery. Why wouldst thou
be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest;
-- 211 --
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
2 note
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 heav'n and earth? We are arrant knaves,
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 no where but in's own house. Farewel.
Oph.
Oh help him, you sweet heav'ns!
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, farewel; 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. Farewel.
Oph.
Heav'nly powers restore him!
Ham.
3 noteI have heard of your painting too, well
enough. God has given you one face, and you make
yourselves another. You jig, you amble, and you
-- 212 --
lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and 4 notemake your
wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't,
it hath made me mad. I say, we will have no more
marriages. Those that are married already, all but
one, shall live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a
nunnery, go.
[Exit Hamlet.
Oph.
Oh, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword;
Th' expectancy and rose of the fair State,
The glass of fashion, and 5 notethe mould of form,
Th' observ'd of all observers! Quite, quite down!
I am of ladies most deject and wretched,
That suck'd the hony of his musick vows:
Now see that noble and most sov'reign reason,
Like sweet bells jangled out of tune, and harsh;
That unmatch'd form, and feature of blown youth,
Blasted with ecstasy. Oh, woe is me!
T' have seen what I have seen; see what I see.
SCENE III.
Enter King and Polonius.
King.
Love! his affections do not that way tend,
Nor what he spake, tho' it lack'd form a little,
Was not like madness. Something's 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, how 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,
-- 213 --
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 this grief
Sprung from neglected love. How now, Ophelia?
You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said,
We heard it all.
[Exit Ophelia.
My Lord, do as you please.
But if you hold it fit, after the Play
Let his Queen-mother all alone intreat him
To shew his griefs; let her be round with him,
And I'll be plac'd, so please you, in the ear
Of all their conf'rence. 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.
Enter Hamlet, and two or 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
lieve, the town-crier had spoke my lines. And 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, whirl-wind of your passion, you must acquire
and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness.
Oh it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious
periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very
rags, to split the ears of 6 notethe groundlings: who for
-- 214 --
the most part are capable of nothing but 7 noteinexplicable
dumb shews, and noise: I could have such a fellow
whipt for o'er doing 8 noteTermagant; it out-herods Herod.
Pray you, avoid it.
Play.
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'er-step not the modesty of Nature; for any
thing 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 shew virtue
her own feature, scorn her own image, and the
very 9 noteage and body of the time, his form and 1 notepressure.
Now this over-done, or come tardy of, tho'
it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious
grieve; the censure of which one must in your
allowance o'er-weigh a whole theatre of others. Oh,
there be Players that I have seen play, and heard
others praise, and that highly, 2 notenot to speak it profanely,
that neither having the accent of christian, nor the
gait of christian, pagan, or man, have so strutted and
bellow'd, that I have thought some of nature's journey
men had made men, and not made them well;
they imitated humanity so abominably.
Play.
I hope, we have reform'd that indifferently
with us.
-- 215 --
Ham.
Oh, 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 villainous; and shews a most pitiful ambition
in the fool that uses it. Go make you ready.
[Exeunt Players.
SCENE IV.
Enter Polonius, Rosincrantz, 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.
Ham.
What, ho, Horatio!
Enter Horatio to Hamlet.
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.
Oh 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 cloath thee? Should the poor be flatter'd?
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd Pomp,
And crook 3 notethe pregnant hinges of the knee,
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?
Since 4 notemy dear soul was mistress of her choice,
-- 216 --
And could of men distinguish, her election
Hath seal'd thee for herself; for thou hast been
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing;
A man, that fortune's buffets and rewards
Hast ta'en with equal thanks. And blest are those,
5 noteWhose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled,
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.
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 pr'ythee, when thou seest that Act a-foot,
Ev'n with the very comment of thy soul
Observe mine uncle; if his occult guilt
Do not itself unkennel in one speech,
It is a damned Ghost that we have seen,
And my imaginations are as foul
As 6 noteVulcan'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.
-- 217 --
SCENE V.
Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrantz,
Guildenstern, and other Lords attendant, with a
guard carrying torches. Danish March. Sound a
flourish.
Ham.
They're coming to the Play; I must be idle.
Get you a place.
King.
How fares our cousin Hamlet?
Ham.
Excellent, i' faith, of the camelion'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, 7 notenor mine now.—My Lord; you
play'd once i' th' university, you say?
[To Polonius.
Pol.
That I did, my Lord, and was accounted a
good actor.
Ham.
And what did you enact?
Pol.
I did enact Julius Cæsar, 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, 8 note
they stay upon your patience.
Queen.
Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.
Ham.
No, good mother, here's metal more attractive.
Pol.
Oh ho, do you mark that?
-- 218 --
Ham.
Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
[Lying down at Ophelia's feet.
Oph.
No, my Lord.
Ham.
I mean, my Head upon your Lap?
Oph.
Ay, my Lord,
Ham.
9 noteDo you think, I meant country matters?
Oph.
I think nothing, my Lord.
Ham.
That's a fair thought, to lie between a maid's legs.
Oph.
What is, my Lord!
Ham.
Nothing,
Oph.
You are merry, my Lord.
Ham.
Who, I?
Oph.
Ay, my Lord.
Ham.
Oh! your only jig-maker; what should a
man do, but be merry? For, look you, how chearfully
my mother looks, and my father dy'd within
these two hours.
Oph.
Nay, 'tis twice two months, my Lord.
Ham.
So long? 1 note
nay, then let the Devil wear
-- 219 --
black, for I'll have a suit of sables. Oh heav'ns!
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 2 note
suffer not thinking on,
with the hobby horse; whose epitaph is, For oh, for
oh, the hobby-horse is forgot.
-- 220 --
SCENE VI.
Hautboys play. The dumb shew enters.
3 note
Enter a Duke and Dutchess, with regal Coronets, very
lovingly; the Dutchess embracing him, and he her.
She kneels; 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, and pours poison
in the Duke's ears, and Exit. The Dutchess returns,
finds the Duke dead, and makes passionate action. The
poisoner, with some two or three mutes, comes in
again, seeming to lament with her. The dead body is
carried away. The poisoner wooes the Dutchess with
gifts; she seems loth and unwilling a while, but in
the end accepts his love.
[Exeunt.
Oph.
What means this, my Lord?
Ham.
4 note
Marry, this is miching Malicho; it means
mischief.
-- 221 --
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 shew him. Be
not you ashamed to shew, he'll not shame to tell you
what it means.
Oph.
You are naught, you are naught. I'll mark
the Play.
Prol.
For us, and for our tragedy,
Here stooping to your clemency,
We beg your hearing patiently.
Ham.
Is this a prologue, or the poesy of a ring?
Oph.
'Tis brief, my Lord.
Ham.
As woman's love.
-- 222 --
Enter Duke, and Dutchess, Players.
Duke.
Full thirty times hath Phœbus' Carr gone round
Neptune's salt wash, and Tellus' orbed ground;
And thirty dozen moons with borrowed 5 notesheen
About the world have time twelve thirties been,
Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands,
Unite commutual, in most sacred bands.
Dutch.
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 fear too much, 6 noteev'n as they love.
And women's fear and love hold quantity;
'Tis either none, or in extremity.
Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know;
7 note
And as my love is siz'd, my fear is so.
Where love is great, the smallest doubts are fear;
Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.
Duke.
'Faith, I must leave thee, Love, and shortly too:
My operant powers their functions leave to do,
-- 223 --
And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
Honour'd, belov'd; and, haply, one as kind
For husband shalt thou—
Dutch.
Oh, confound the rest!
Such love must needs be treason in my breast:
In second husband let me be accurst!
None wed the second, but who kill the first.
Ham.
Wormwood, wormwood!—
Dutch.
8 noteThe 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.
Duke.
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 fruits unripe, sticks on the tree
But fall unshaken, when they mellow be.
Most necessary 'tis, that we forget
To pay ourselves 9 notewhat to ourselves is debt:
What to ourselves in passion we propose,
The passion ending doth the purpose lose;
1 note
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 ev'n our loves should with our fortune's change.
For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,
Whether love leads fortune, or else fortune love.
-- 224 --
The great man down, you mark, his fav'rite 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.
Dutch.
Nor earth to give me food, nor heaven light
Sport and repose lock from me, day and night!
To desperation turn my trust and hope!
2 noteAn 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—
Duke.
'Tis deeply sworn; Sweet, leave me here a while;
My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
The tedious day with sleep.
[Sleeps.
Dutch.
Sleep rock thy brain,
And never come mischance between us twain!
[Exit.
Ham.
Madam, how like you this Play?
Queen.
The lady protests too much, methinks.
Ham.
Oh, but she'll keep her word.
King.
Have you heard the argument, is there no
offence in't?
-- 225 --
Ham.
No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest. No
offence i' th' world.
King.
What do you call the Play?
Ham.
The Mouse-Trap. Marry, how? tropically.
This Play is the image of a murder done in
Vienna; Gonzaga is the Duke's name, his wife's 3 noteBaptista;
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 unrung.
Enter Lucianus.
This is one Lucianus, nephew to the Duke.
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.
4 noteSo you mistake your husbands.
Begin, murderer.—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 mid-night weeds collected,
With Hecat's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thy natural magick, and dire property,
On wholsome life usurp immediately.
[Pours the poison into his ears.
Ham.
He poisons him i'th' garden for's estate. His
-- 226 --
name's Gonzaga; the story is extant, and writ in
choice Italian. You shall see anon how the murderer
gets the love of Gonzaga'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.
SCENE VII.
Manent Hamlet and Horatio.
Ham.
Why, let the strucken deer go weep,
The heart ungalled play;
For some must watch, whilst some must sleep;
So runs the world away.
Would not this, Sir, and a forest of Feathers, if the
rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me, 5 note
with two
provincial roses on my rayed shoes, get me a fellowship
in 6 notea cry of Players, Sir?
Hor.
Half a share.
Ham.
A whole one, I.
“For thou dost know, oh Damon dear,
“This realm dismantled was
“Of Jove himself, and now reigns here
“7 note
A very, very,—Peacock.
-- 227 --
Hor.
You might have rhym'd.
Ham.
Oh, good Horatio, I'll take the Ghost's word
for a thousand pounds. Didst perceive?
Hor.
Very well, my Lord.
Ham.
Upon the talk of the poisoning?
Hor.
I did very well note him.
Ham.
Oh, ha! come, some musick. Come, the recorders.
For if the King like not the comedy;
8 noteWhy, then, belike,—He likes it not, perdy.
Enter Rosincrantz and Guildenstern.
Come, some musick.
Guil.
Good my Lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.
Ham.
Sir, a whole history.
-- 228 --
Guil.
The King, Sir—
Ham.
Ay, Sir, what of him?
Guil.
Is, in his retirement, marvellous distemper'd—
Ham.
9 noteWith drink, Sir?
Guil.
No, my Lord, with choler.
Ham.
Your wisdom should shew itself more rich,
to signify this to his Doctor; for, for me to put him
to his purgation, would, perhaps, plunge him into
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 as 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.
Oh wonderful son, that can so astonish a
mother! But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's
admiration?
Ros.
She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere
you go to bed.
-- 229 --
Ham.
We shall obey, were she ten times our mother.
Have you any 1 notefurther trade with us?
Ros.
My Lord, you once did love me.
Ham.
So I do still, 2 noteby these pickers and stealers.
Ros.
Good my Lord, what is your cause of distemper?
You do, surely, bar the door of 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, but while the grass grows—the Proverb
is something musty.
Enter one, with a Recorder.
Oh, 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 toile?
Guil.
3 noteOh my Lord, if my duty be too bold, my
love's 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.
'Tis as easy as lying. Govern these 4 noteventages
with your fingers and thumb, give it breath with
your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent musick.
Look you, these are the stops.
-- 230 --
Guil.
But these cannot I command to any utterance
of harmony; I have not the skill.
Ham.
Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing
you would 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 musick, excellent voice, in this little
organ, yet cannot you make it speak. Why, do you
think, that 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.—God bless
you, Sir.
Enter Polonius.
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 the mass, and it's like a Camel, indeed.
Ham.
Methinks it is like an Ouzle.
Pol.
It is black like an Ouzle.6Q0265
Ham.
Or, like a Whale?
Pol.
Very like a Whale.
Ham.
Then will I come to my mother by and by—
5 notethey fool me to the top of my bent.—I will come
by and by.
Pol.
I will say so.
Ham.
By and by is easily said. Leave me, friends.
[Exeunt.
'Tis now the very witching time of night,
When church-yards yawn, and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood,
-- 231 --
6 note
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, but not unnatural;
I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites;
How in my words soever she be shent,
7 noteTo give them seals never my soul consent!
SCENE VIII.
Enter King, Rosincrantz, 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
-- 232 --
8 note
Out of his Lunacies.
Guil.
We will provide ourselves;
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,
9 note
That spirit, on whose weal depends and rests
The lives of many. The cease of Majesty
Dies not alone, but, like a gulf, doth draw
What's near it with it. It's a massy wheel
Fixt on the summit of the highest mount,
To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
Are mortiz'd and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
Each small annexment, petty consequence,
Attends the boist'rous ruin. Ne'er alone
Did the King sigh; but with a general groan.
King.
Arm you, I pray you, to this 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
-- 233 --
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'er-hear
The speech, 1 noteof vantage. Fare you well, my Liege;
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
And tell you what I know.
[Exit.
King.
Thanks, dear my Lord.
Oh! my offence is rank, it smells to heav'n,
It hath the primal, eldest, curse upon't;
A brother's murder. Pray I cannot,
2 note
Though inclination be as sharp as 't 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 heav'ns
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves Mercy,
But to confront the visage of offence?
And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force,
To be fore-stalled ere we come to fall,
Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is past. But oh, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder!
That cannot be, since I am still possest
Of those effects for which I did the murder,
My Crown, mine own Ambition, and my Queen.
-- 234 --
3 note
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,
Ev'n to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then? what rests?
Try, what repentance can. What can it not?
4 note
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
-- 235 --
Oh wretched state! oh bosom, black as death!
Oh 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.
[The King retires and kneels.
SCENE IX.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham.
Now might I do it pat, now he is praying,
And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heav'n.
And so am I reveng'd? that would be scann'd.
A villain kills my father, and for that
5 note
I, his sole son, do this same villain send
-- 236 --
To heav'n. O, this is hire and salary, not revenge.
He took my father grosly, full of bread.
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And how his audit stands, who knows, save heav'n?
But in our circumstance and course of thought,
'Tis heavy with him. Am I then reveng'd,
To take him in the purging of his soul,
When he is fit and season'd for his passage?
6 note
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 heav'n;
And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
7 noteAs hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays;
This physick but prolongs thy sickly days.
[Exit.
-- 237 --
The King rises, and comes forward.
King.
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below;
Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go.
[Exit.
SCENE X.
Changes to the Queen's Apartment.
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. 8 note
I'll silence me e'en 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 himself behind the Arras.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham.
Now, mother, what's the matter?
Queen.
Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
-- 238 --
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,
But, 'would you 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.
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 murder me?
Help, ho.
Pol.
What ho, help.
[Behind the Arras.
Ham.
How now, a rat? Dead for a ducat, dead.
[Hamlet kills Polonius.
Pol.
Oh, I am slain.
Queen.
Oh me, what hast thou done?
Ham.
Nay, I know not: is it the King?
Queen.
Oh, 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, 'twas my word.
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewel,
[To Polonius.
I took thee for thy Betters; take thy fortune;
Thou find'st, to be too busy, is some danger.
Leave wringing of your hands; peace; sit you down,
And let me wring your heart, for so I shall,
If it be made of penetrable stuff:
-- 239 --
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; 9 notetakes off the rose
From the fair forehead of an innocent love,
And sets a blister there; makes marriage vows
As false as dicers' oaths. Oh, such a deed,
As 1 notefrom the body of Contraction plucks
The very soul, and sweet Religion makes
A rhapsody of words. 2 note
Heav'n's face doth glow;
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
With tristful visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act.
-- 240 --
Queen.
3 note
Ay me! what act,
That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?
Ham.
Look here upon this 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 or 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,
-- 241 --
The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment
Would step from this to this. 4 note
Sense, sure, you have,
Else could you not have notion; but, sure, that sense
Is apoplex'd, for madness would not err;
Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd,
But it reserv'd some quantity of choice
To serve in such a diff'rence.—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? 5 note
rebellious hell,
-- 242 --
If thou canst mutiny 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 6 note
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 7 notegrained spots,
As will not leave their tinct.
Ham.
Nay, but to live
In the rank sweat of an 8 noteincestuous bed,
Stew'd in corruption, honying and making love
Over the nasty sty!
Queen.
Oh, speak no more;
These words like daggers enter in mine ears.
No more, sweet Hamlet.
Ham.
A murderer, and a villain!—
A slave, that is not twentieth part the tythe
Of your precedent Lord. A 9 noteVice of Kings;—
A cutpurse of the Empire and the Rule,
1 noteThat from a shelf the precious Diadem stole
And put it in his pocket.
Queen.
No more.
-- 243 --
Enter Ghost.
Ham.
2 noteA King of shreds and patches—
Save me! and hover o'er me with your wings,
[Starting up.
You heav'nly guards! What would your gracious figure?
Queen.
Alas, he's mad—
Ham.
Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
That, 3 notelaps'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 thus you bend your eye on vacancy,
And with th' incorporal air do hold discourse?
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep,
And, as the sleeping soldiers in th' alarm,
Your bedded hairs, 4 notelike life in excrements,
Start up, and stand on end. O gentle son,
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?
-- 244 --
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 on 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?
[Pointing to the Ghost.
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 ev'n 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.
What Ecstasy?
My pulse, as yours, doth temp'rately keep time,
And makes as healthful musick. 'Tis not madness
That I have utter'd; bring me to the test,
And I the matter will re-word; 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;
Whilst rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heav'n;
Repent what's past, avoid what is to come;
And 5 notedo not spread the compost on the weeds
To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue;
-- 245 --
For, in the fatness of these pursy times,
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg,
Yea, 6 notecurb and wooe, for leave to do it good.
Queen.
Oh 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 mine uncle's bed,
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
7 note
That monster custom, who all sense doth eat
Of habits, Devil, 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 can almost change the stamp of Nature,
And master ev'n 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,
[Pointing to Polonius.
I do repent: but heav'ns have pleas'd it so,
8 note
To punish this with me, and me with this
That I must be their scourge and minister.
-- 246 --
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.
Queen.
What shall I do?
Ham.
Not this by no means, that I bid you do,
9 note
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 padling 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 gibbe,
Such dear concernings hide? Who would do so?
No, in despight of sense and secresy,
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.
1 noteThere's Letters seal'd, and my two school-fellows,
Whom I will trust, as I will 2 noteadders fang'd;
-- 247 --
They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way,
And marshal me to knavery. Let it work.
For 'tis the sport, to have the engineer
Hoist with his own petard; 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 prating knave.
Come, Sir, to draw toward an end with you.
Good-night, mother.
[Exit Hamlet, tugging in Polonius.
noteACT IV.
* [Footnote:
SCENE I.
A Royal Apartment.
Enter King and Queen, with Rosincrantz, and Guildenstern.
King.
There's matter in these sighs; these profound heaves
You must translate; 'tis fit, we understand them.
Where is your son?
-- 248 --
Queen.
Bestow this place on us a little while.
[To Ros. and Guild. 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 3 noteout 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?
Queen.
To draw apart the body he hath kill'd,
O'er whom his very madness, 4 notelike 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!
-- 249 --
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 chapel. Pray you, haste in this.
[Exeunt Ros. and Guild.
Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends,
And let them know both what we mean to do,
And what's untimely done. For, haply, Slander,
5 note
Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,
As level as the cannon to his blank,
Transports its poison'd shot; may miss our Name,
-- 250 --
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.
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 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 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, 6 note
like
an apple, in the corner of his jaw; first mouth'd, to
be last swallow'd. When he needs what you have
-- 251 --
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.
7 noteThe body is with the King, but the King
is not with the body. The King is a thing—
Guil.
A thing, my Lord?
Ham.
8 noteOf nothing. Bring me to him. 9 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!
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, desp'rate grown,
By desperate appliance are reliev'd,
Or not at all.
-- 252 --
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 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, 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 heav'n, 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 stairs
into the lobby.
-- 253 --
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 1 note
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 Ros. and Guild.
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 may'st not coldly 2 note
set by
Our sovereign process, which imports at full,
-- 254 --
By letters conjuring 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,
3 note
Howe'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?
-- 255 --
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,
A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.
Ham.
Why, then the Polack 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.
How all occasions do inform against me,
And spur my dull revenge? What is a man,
If his 4 notechief good and market of his time
Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
Sure, he that made us with such 5 notelarge discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and god-like 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
-- 256 --
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 puft,
Makes mouths at the invisible event;
Exposing what is mortal and unsure
To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
Ev'n for an egg-shell. 6 note
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 kill'd, a mother stain'd,
7 noteExcitements 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, then, from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth.
[Exit.
-- 257 --
SCENE V.
Changes to a Palace.
Enter Queen, and Horatio.
Queen.
I will not speak with her.
Hor.
She is importunate,
Indeed, distract. Her mood will needs be pitied.
Queen.
What would she have?
Hor.
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 unshap'd 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,
8 noteTho' nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
9 note'Twere good she were spoken with, for she may strow
Dangerous conjectures in ill breeding minds.
Queen.
Let her come in.
[Exit Hor.
-- 258 --
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 Horatio, with 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?6Q0268
1 noteBy his cockle hat and staff, and by 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 is dead and gone;
At his head a grass-green turf, at his heels a stone.
O ho!
Enter King.
Queen.
Nay, but Ophelia—
Oph.
Pray you, mark.
-- 259 --
White his shroud 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 'ield you! They say, 2 notethe owl
was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we
are, but we 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,
3 note
And dupt 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.
-- 260 --
4 note
By Gis, and by St. Charity,
Alack, and fy 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 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 unwholesom in their thoughts and whispers,
For good Polonius' death; We've done 5 notebut greenly,
6 note
In hugger mugger to interr him; poor Ophelia,
-- 261 --
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;
7 note
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father's death;
8 note
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 murdering piece, in many places
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.
1 noteThe ocean, over-peering of his list,
-- 262 --
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,
2 note
The ratifiers and props of every Ward;
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!
3 noteOh, this is counter, you false Danish dogs.
[Noise within.
Enter Laertes, with a Party at the Door.
King.
The doors are broke.
-- 263 --
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.
[Laying hold on him.
Laer.
That drop of blood that's calm, proclaims me bastard;
Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot
Ev'n here, between the chaste and unsmirch'd brows
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.
-- 264 --
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-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 sensible in grief for it,
It shall as level 4 note
to your judgment 'pear,
As day does to your eye.
Crowd within.
Let her come in.
Laer.
How now, what noise is that?
SCENE VII.
Enter Ophelia, fantastically drest 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?
-- 265 --
“5 note
Nature is fine in love; and, where 'tis fine,
“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 rain'd many a tear;
Fare you well, my dove!
Laer.
Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade Revenge,
-- 266 --
It could not move thus.
Oph.
You must sing, down a-down, and you call him a-down-a.
6 note
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.
7 noteThere's rosemary, that's for remembrance.
Pray, love, remember. And there's pansies, that's for
thoughts.
Laer.
A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance
fitted.
Oph.
There's fennel for you, and columbines.
8 noteThere's rue for you, and here's some for me. We
-- 267 --
may call it herb of grace o' Sundays. You may wear
your rue with a difference; there's a daisy. 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 white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll:
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away mone,
Gramercy on his soul!
And on all christian souls! God b'wi'ye.
[Exit Oph.
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,
-- 268 --
9 noteNo 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:
1 note
And where th' offence is, let the great ax fall.
I pray you go with me.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VIII.
Enter Horatio, with an Attendant.
Hor.
What are they, that would speak with me?
Serv.
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, 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.
-- 269 --
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 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 haste as thou wouldest fly
death. I have words to speak in thy ear, will make thee
dumb; yet are they much too light 2 notefor the bore of 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,
-- 270 --
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, 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 3 notethe general gender bear him;
Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
4 noteWould, 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,
Who has, 5 noteif praises may go back again,
Stood challenger on mount of all the age
For her perfections. But my revenge will come.
-- 271 --
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 ourself,
And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine—
How now? what news?
Enter a 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 Messenger.
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?—
-- 272 --
Will you be rul'd by me?
Laer.
Ay; so you'll not o'er-rule me to a peace.
King.
To thine own peace. If he be now return'd,
6 note
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;
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
7 noteOf the unworthiest siege.
Laer.
What part is that, my Lord?
King.
A very riband 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,
8 note
Importing health and graveness.—Two months since,
Here was a gentleman of Normandy.—
I've seen myself, and serv'd against the French,
-- 273 --
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 topp'd my thought,
That I 9 notein 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.
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 1 notein your defence;
And for your rapier most especial,
That he cry'd out, 'twould be a Sight indeed,
If one could match you. 2 noteThe 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,
-- 274 --
But that I know, love is begun by time,
And that I see 3 notein 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;
4 noteFor goodness, growing to a pleurisy,
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;
5 note
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 yourself your father's Son indeed
More than in words?
-- 275 --
Laer.
To cut his throat i' th' church.
King.
No place, indeed, should murder 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 Frenchman gave you; bring you in fine together,
And wager on your heads. 6 noteHe 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
7 noteA sword unbated, and in 8 notea 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
9 noteMay fit us to our shape. If this should fail,
-- 276 --
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 1 noteblast 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 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?
Queen.
There is a willow grows aslant a Brook,
That shews his hoar leaves in the glassy stream:
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 men's fingers call them;)
There on the pendant boughs, her coronet weeds
Clambring to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies and herself
-- 277 --
Fell in the weeping brook; her cloaths spread wide,
And mermaid-like, a while they bore her up;
2 note
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 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.
-- 278 --
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].
