SCENE II.
The palace.
Enter King, Queen, Rosincrantz, Guildenstern, and 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
-- 236 --
Our hasty sending. Something have you heard
Of Hamlet's transformation; so I call it,
Since nor the 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 the 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 humour9 note,—
That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court
Some little time: so by your companies
To draw him on to pleasures; and to gather,
So much as from occasion you may glean,
1 noteWhether 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
2 noteTo shew us so much gentry, and good will,
As to expend your time with us a while,
3 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 sovereign power you have of us,
Put your dread pleasures more into command
Than to entreaty.
Guil.
But we both obey;
And here give up ourselves, 4 notein the full bent,
-- 237 --
To lay our service freely at your feet,
To be commanded.
King.
Thanks, Rosencrantz, and gentle Guildenstern.
Queen.
Thanks, Guildenstern, and gentle Rosencrantz:
And I beseech you instantly to visit
My too much changed son.—Go, some of you,
And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.
Guil.
Heavens make our presence, and our practices,
Pleasant and helpful to him!
[Exeunt Ros. and Guil.
Queen.
Ay, amen!
Enter Polonius.
Pol.
The embassadors from Norway, my good lord,
Are joyfully return'd.
King.
Thou still hast been the father of good news.
Pol.
Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege,
I hold my duty, as I hold my soul,
Both to my God, and to my gracious king:
And I do think (or else this brain of mine
Hunts not the 4 notetrail of policy so sure
As it hath us'd to do) that I have found
The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.
King.
O, speak of that; that I do long to hear.
Pol.
Give first admittance to the embassadors;
My news shall be 5 notethe fruit to that great feast.
King.
Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in.
[Exit Polonius.
He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found
The head and source of all your son's distemper.
Queen.
I doubt, it is no other but the main;
His father's death, and our o'er-hasty marriage.
-- 238 --
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
It was against your highness: Whereat griev'd,—
That so his sickness, age, and impotence,
Was falsely borne in hand6 note
,—sends out arrests
On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys;
Receives rebuke from Norway; and, in fine,
Makes vow before his uncle, never more
To give the assay of arms against your majesty.
Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,
7 noteGives him threescore thousand crowns in annual fee8 note
;
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;
-- 239 --
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; 9 noteat night we'll feast together:
Most welcome home!
[Exeunt Volt. and Cor.
Pol.
This business is well ended.
1 note
My liege, and madam, 2 noteto expostulate
-- 240 --
What majesty should be, what duty is,
Why day is day, night night, and time is time,
Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time.
Therefore,—since brevity is the soul of wit,
-- 241 --
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;
Who, in her duty and obedience, mark,
Hath given me this: Now gather, and surmise.
3 note
To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified
Ophelia—
-- 242 --
That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; beautify'd
Is a vile phrase; but you shall hear:—
These in her excellent white bosom, 4 note
these, &c.—
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.
O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not
-- 243 --
art to reckon my groans: but that I love thee best,
O most best,5 note believe it. Adieu.
Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst
this machine is to him, Hamlet.
This, in obedience, hath my daughter shewn me:
And, 6 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,
7 note
If I had play'd the desk, or table-book;
8 noteOr given 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,
-- 244 --
And my young mistress thus I did bespeak;
9 note
Lord Hamlet is a prince:—out of thy sphere;
This must not be: and then I precepts gave her1 note,
That she should lock herself from his resort,
Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.
Which done2 note
, she took the fruits of my advice:
And he, repulsed, (3 note
a short tale to make)
Fell into a sadness; then into a fast;
Thence to a watch; thence into a weakness;
Thence to a lightness; and, by this declension,
Into the madness wherein now he raves,
And all we mourn for.
King.
Do you think, 'tis this?
Queen.
It may be, very likely.
Pol.
Hath there been such a time, (I'd fain know that)
-- 245 --
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
Within the centre.
King.
How may we try it further?
Pol.
You know, sometimes he walks four hours together4 note
,
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 fallen thereon,
Let me be no assistant for a state,
But keep a farm, and carters. 9Q1171
King.
We will try it.
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:—O, give me leave.—
[Exeunt King, and Queen.
How does my good lord Hamlet?
Ham.
Well, god-a'-mercy.
Pol.
Do you know me, my lord?
Ham.
Excellent well;
You are a fishmonger.
Pol.
Not I, my lord.
-- 246 --
Ham.
Then I would you were so honest a man.
Pol.
Honest, my lord?
Ham.
Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes,
Is to be one man pick'd out of ten thousand.
Pol.
That's very true, my lord.
Ham.
5 note
For if the sun breeds maggots in a dead dog,
Being a god, kissing carrion,—Have you a daughter?
-- 247 --
Pol.
I have, my lord.
Ham.
Let her not walk i' the sun: conception is a
blessing6 note
; but not as your daughter may conceive:
friend, look to't.
Pol.
How say you by that? [Aside.] still harping
on my daughter:—yet he knew me not at first; he
said, I was a fishmonger: He is far gone, far gone:
and, truly, in my youth I suffer'd much extremity
for love; very near this.—I'll speak to him again.—
What do you read, my lord?
Ham.
Words, words, words!
Pol.
What is the matter, my lord?
Ham.
Between who?
Pol.
I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.
Ham.
7 note
Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says
here, that old men have grey beards; that their faces
-- 248 --
are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber, and
plum-tree gum; and that they have a plentiful lack
of wit, together with most weak hams: All which,
sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe,
yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down;
for 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' the air.—How pregnant8 note
sometimes his replies are! a happiness that
-- 249 --
often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could
not so prosperously be deliver'd of. I will leave him,
and suddenly contrive9 note 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, except
my life, except my life.
Pol.
Fare you well, my lord.
Ham.
These tedious old fools!
Enter Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern.
Pol.
You go to seek lord Hamlet; there he is.
[Exit.
Ros.
God save you, sir!
Guil.
Mine honour'd lord!—
Ros.
My most dear lord!—
Ham.
My excellent good friends! How dost thou,
Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do
ye both?
Ros.
As the indifferent children of the earth.
Guil.
Happy, in that we are not over-happy;
On fortune's cap we are not the very button.
Ham.
Nor the soals of her shoe?
Ros.
Neither, my lord.
Ham.
Then you live about her waist, or in the
middle of her favours?
Guil.
'Faith, her privates we.
Ham.
In the secret parts of fortune? O, most
true; she is a strumpet. What news?
Ros.
None, my lord; but that the world's grown
honest.
Ham.
Then is dooms-day near: But your news is
not true. [Let me1 note question more in particular:
-- 250 --
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
of the worst.
Ros.
We think not so, my lord.
Ham.
Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is
nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it
so: to me it is a prison.
Ros.
Why, then your ambition makes it one; 'tis
too narrow for your mind.
Ham.
O God! I could be bounded in a 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 2 note
the
shadow of a dream.
Ham.
A dream itself is but a shadow.
Ros.
Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and
light a quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow.
Ham.
3 noteThen are our beggars, bodies; and our
monarchs, and out-stretch'd heroes, the beggars' shadows:
Shall we to the court? for, by my fay, I
cannot reason.
-- 251 --
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
Elsinour?
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 at a half-penny. Were you not sent for?
Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation?
Come, 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.
Ham.
4 noteNay, 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. 5 noteI have of late, (but,
-- 252 --
wherefore, I know not) lost all my mirth, foregone all
custom of exercises: 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,6 note 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 then, when I said Man
delights not me?
Ros.
To think, my lord, if you delight not in
man, what lenten entertainment7 note
the players shall receive
from you: we coted them on the way8 note
; and
hither are they coming, to offer you service.
-- 253 --
Ham.
He that plays the king, shall be welcome;
his majesty shall have tribute of me: the adventurous
knight shall use his foil, and target: the lover shall
not sigh gratis; the humorous man 9 note
shall end his
part in peace: the clown shall make those laugh,
whose lungs are tickled o' the sere; and 1 notethe lady
-- 254 --
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 such delight
in, the tragedians of the city.
Ham.
How chances it, they travel? their residence,
both in reputation and profit, was better both ways.
Ros.
1 note
I think, their inhibition comes by the means
of the late innovation.
Ham.
Do they hold the same estimation they did
when I was in the city? Are they so follow'd?
Ros.
No, indeed, they are not.
2 note[Ham.
How comes it? Do they grow rusty?
-- 255 --
Ros.
Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted
pace: But there is, sir, an aiery of children, 3 note
little
eyases, that 4 note
cry out on the top of question, and
-- 256 --
are most tyrannically clapp'd 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 4 noteescoted? 5 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 like6 note, if their means
are no better) their writers do them wrong, to make
them exclaim against their own succession7 note?
Ros.
'Faith, there has been much to do on both
sides; and the nation holds it no sin, to tarre them on
to controversy8 note: There was, for a while, no money
bid for argument, unless the poet and the player went
to cuffs in the question.
Ham.
Is it possible?
Guil.
O, there has been much throwing about of
brains.
Ham.
Do the boys carry it away?
Ros.
Ay, that they do, my lord; 9 note
Hercules and
his load too.]
-- 257 --
Ham.
1 noteIt is not very strange: for my uncle is
king of Denmark; and those, that would make
mouths at him while my father liv'd, give twenty,
forty, fifty, an hundred ducats a-piece, for his picture
in little2 note
. There is something3 note in this more than
natural, if philosophy could find it out.
[Flourish of trumpets.
Guil.
There are the players.
Ham.
Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinour.
Your hands. Come then: the appurtenance of welcome
is fashion and ceremony: 4 notelet me comply with
you in this garb; 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 southerly5 note
, I know a hawk from a hand-saw6 note
.
-- 258 --
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 swadling-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: on monday
morning; 'twas then, indeed.
Pol.
My lord, I have news to tell you.
Ham.
My lord, I have news to tell you.—When
Roscius was an actor in Rome,—
Pol.
The actors are come hither, my lord.
Ham.
7 note
Buz, buz!
Pol.
Upon mine honour,—
Ham.
8 noteThen came each actor on his ass,—
Pol.
The best actors in the world, either for tragedy,
comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical,
historical-pastoral, [9 notetragical-historical, tragical-comical,
-- 259 --
historical-pastoral,] scene undividable, or poem
unlimited: 1 noteSeneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus
too light 9Q1175: 2 noteFor the law of writ, and the liberty,
these are the only men. 9Q1176
Ham.
O 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.
[Aside.
Ham.
Am I not i' the 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.
3 noteWhy, as By lot, God wot,—and then, you
know, It came to pass, As most like it was,—4 note
The
-- 260 --
first row of the pious chanson will shew you more;
for look, where 5 note
my abridgment comes.
Enter four or five Players.
You are welcome, masters; welcome, all:—I am
glad to see thee well:—welcome, good friends.—O,
old friend! Why, thy face is valanc'd since I saw
thee last; Com'st thou to beard me in Denmark?—
What! my young lady and mistress! By-'r-lady,
your ladyship is nearer to heaven, than when I saw
you last, 6 note
by the altitude of a chioppine. Pray
-- 261 --
God, your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, 7 note
be
not crack'd within the ring.—Masters, you are all
welcome. We'll e'en to't 8 note
like French falconers, fly
at any thing we see: We'll have a speech straight:
-- 262 --
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 9 note
caviare to the general: but it was (as I receiv'd
it, and others, whose judgments, in such
matters, 1 note
cried in the top of mine) an excellent
play; well digested in the scenes, 2 noteset down with as
-- 263 --
much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said,
there were no sallets3 note
in the lines, to make the matter
savoury; nor no matter in the phrase, 4 note
that
might indite the author of affection: 5 note
but call'd it,
an honest method; [as 6 notewholesome as sweet, and
by very much more handsome than fine.] One
speech in it I chiefly lov'd: 'twas Æneas' 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 the Hyrcanian beast,—
'tis not so; it begins with Pyrrhus.
The rugged Pyrrhus,—he,9Q11779Q1178 whose sable arms,
Black as his purpose, did the night resemble
When he lay couched in the ominous horse,—
Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd
-- 264 --
With heraldry more dismal; head to foot
Now is he total gules7 note
; horridly trick'd
With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons;
Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets,
That lend a tyrannous and a damned light
To their lord's murder: Roasted in wrath, and fire,
And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore,
With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Old grandsire Priam seeks:—So, proceed you.
Pol.
'Fore God, my lord, well spoken; with good
accent, and good discretion.
1 Play.
Anon he finds him,
Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword,
Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
Repugnant to command: Unequal match'd,
Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage, strikes wide;
But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
The 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 swor
Which was declining on the milky head
Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick:
So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood;
And, like a neutral to his will and matter,
Did nothing.
But, as we often see, against some storm,
A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,
The bold winds speechless, and the orb below
As hush as death: anon, the dreadful thunder
-- 265 --
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's armour, forg'd for proof eterne,
With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
Now falls on Priam.—
Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune! All you gods,
In general synod, take away her power;
Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,
As low as to the fiends!
Pol.
This is too long.
Ham.
It shall to the barber's, with your beard.—
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, a woe! had seen 8 note
the mobled queen,—
Ham.
The mobled queen?
-- 266 --
Pol.
That's good; mobled queen is good.
1 Play.
Run bare-foot up and down, threat'ning the flames
9 note
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 the alarm of fear caught up;
Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd,
'Gainst fortune's state would treason have pronounc'd:
But if the gods themselves did see her then,
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs;
The instant burst of clamour that she made,
(Unless things mortal move them not at all)
Would have made milch1 note the burning eyes of heaven,
And passion in the gods.
Pol.
Look, whe'r he has not turn'd his colour,
and has tears in's eyes.—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 you hear, let them be well used;
for they are the abstract, and brief chronicles, of the
time: After your death, you were better have a bad
epitaph, than their ill report while you live.
Pol.
My lord, I will use them according to their
desert.
Ham.
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.
-- 267 --
Pol.
Come, sirs.
[Exit Polonius.
Ham.
Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play to-morrow.
—Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you
play the murder of Gonzago?
1 Play.
Ay, my lord.
Ham.
We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could,
for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen
lines, which I would set down, and insert in't? could
you not?
1 Play.
Ay, my lord.
Ham.
Very well. Follow that lord; and look
you mock him not.—My good friends, [to Ros, and
Guild.] I'll leave you 'till night: you are welcome
to Elsinour.
Ros.
Good, my lord.
[Exeunt Ros. and Guil.
Ham.
Ay, so, God be wi' you:—Now I am alone.
O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
Is is not monstrous, that this player here2 note,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit,
That, from her working, 3 note
all his visage warm'd;
-- 268 --
4 noteTears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect,
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing!
For Hecuba!
5 note
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weep for her? What would he do,
Had he the motive and 6 notethe cue for passion,
That I have? He would drown the stage with tears,
And cleave 7 notethe general ear with horrid speech;
Make mad the guilty, and appall the free,
Confound the ignorant; and amaze, indeed,
The very faculty of eyes and ears.
Yet I,
A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,
-- 269 --
8 noteLike John-a-dreams, 9 note
unpregnant of my cause,
And can say nothing; no, not for a king,
Upon whose property, and most dear life,
1 note
A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lye i'the throat,
As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this?
Ha! Why 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!
-- 270 --
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, 2 notekindless villain!
3 note
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 heaven, and hell,
Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
And fall a cursing, like a very drab,
A scullion4 note!
Fie upon't! foh!
5 note
About, my brains! Hum! I have heard,
6 note
That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,
Have by the very cunning of the scene
Been struck so to the soul, that presently
They have proclaim'd their malefactions:
For 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 7 notetent him to the quick; 8 note
if he do blench,
-- 271 --
I know my course. The spirit, that I have seen,
May be a devil: and the devil hath power
To 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
9 note
More relative than this; The play's the thing,
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
[Exit.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
