SCENE I.
The PALACE.
Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern.
King.
And can you by no drift of conference1 note
Get from him, why he puts on this confusion;
Grating so harshly all his days of quiet
With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?
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?
-- 272 --
Ros.
Most like a gentleman.
Guil.
But with much forcing of his disposition.
Ros.
2 note
Niggard of question; but, of our demands,
Most free in his reply.
Queen.
Did you assay him
To any pastime?
Ros.
Madam, it so fell out, that certain players
We 3 note
o'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 here 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 on to these delights.
Ros.
We shall, my lord.
[Exeunt Ros. and Guil.
King.
Sweet Gertrude, leave us too:
For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither;
That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
-- 273 --
4 note
Affront Ophelia.
Her father, and myself (lawful espials5 note
)
Will so bestow ourselves, that, seeing, unseen,
We may of their encounter frankly judge;
And gather by him, as he is behav'd,
If't be the 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
Will 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 you,
We will bestow ourselves:—Read on this book;
[To Oph.
That show of such an exercise may colour
Your loneliness.—6 noteWe are oft to blame in this,—
7 note'Tis too much prov'd,—that, with devotion's visage,
And pious action, we do sugar o'er
The devil himself.
King.
O, 'tis too true! how smart
A lash that speech doth give my conscience!
[Aside.
-- 274 --
The harlot's cheek, beauty'd with plast'ring art,
Is not 8 notemore ugly to the thing that helps it,
Than is my deed to my most painted word:
O heavy burden!
Pol.
I hear him coming; let's withdraw, my lord.
[Exeunt King, and Polonius.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham.
9 note
To be, or not to be, that is the question:—
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer
-- 275 --
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune1 note;
2 note
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And, by opposing, end them?—3 note
To die;—to sleep;—
No more?—and, by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ach, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to,—'tis a consummation
-- 276 --
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 4 notemortal coil,
Must give us pause: There's the respect,
That makes calamity of so long life:
For who would bear 5 note
the whips and scorns of time, 9Q1180
-- 277 --
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, 9Q1181
The pangs of despis'd love,6 note the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself 7 note
might his quietus make
-- 278 --
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
8 note
To groan and sweat under a weary life;
But that the dread of something after death,—
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns9 note
—puzzles the will;
-- 279 --
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 sickly'd o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprizes of great pith1 note and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry2 note,
And lose the name of action.—Soft you, now!
[Seeing Ophelia.
The fair Ophelia?—3 noteNymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.
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,
That I have longed long to re-deliver;
I pray you, now receive them.
Ham.
No, not I;
I never gave you aught.
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: their 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?
-- 280 --
Oph.
What means your lordship?
Ham.
4 note
That, 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 some time 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 believ'd me: for virtue
cannot so inoculate5 note 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 would'st thou
be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest;
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
6 note
at my beck, than I have thoughts to put
-- 281 --
them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to
act them in: What should such fellows as I do
crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant
knaves, all; 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.
O, help him, you sweet heavens!
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.
Heavenly powers, restore him!
Ham.
7 note
I have heard of your paintings too well
enough; God hath given you one face, and you
make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and
you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and 8 notemake
-- 282 --
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.
O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
9 note
The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword;
The expectancy and rose of the fair state,
The glass of fashion, and 1 notethe mould of form,
The observ'd of all observers! quite, quite down!
And I, of ladies most deject2 note
and wretched,
That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune3 note and harsh;
That unmatch'd form and feature4 note of blown youth,
Blasted with ecstasy5 note
: O, woe is me!
-- 283 --
To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!
Re-enter King, and Polonius.
King.
Love! his affections do not that way tend;
Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little,
Was not like madness. There's something 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 for 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,
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 his grief
Sprung from neglected love.—How now, Ophelia?
You need not tell us what lord Hamlet said;
We heard it all.—My lord, do as you please;
But, if you hold it fit, after the play,
Let his queen mother all alone entreat him
To shew his grief; let her be round with him6 note;
And I'll be plac'd, so please you, in the ear
Of all their conference: 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.
-- 284 --
SCENE II.
A Hall.
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 spoke my lines. Nor 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) whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire
and beget a temperance, that may give it
smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul, to hear
a robustious perriwig-pated7 note
fellow tear a passion to
tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of 8 note
the groundlings;
-- 285 --
who, for the most part, are capable of nothing
but 9 note
inexplicable dumb shews, and noise: I
-- 286 --
would have such a fellow whipp'd for o'er-doing
1 note
Termagant; it out-herods Herod2 note
: Pray you,
avoid it.
-- 287 --
1 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 3 note
age and body of the time his form
and 4 notepressure. Now this, over-done, or come tardy
off, though 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. 9Q1182 O, there be players5 note, that I have
seen play,—and heard others praise, and that highly,—
6 notenot to speak it profanely, that, neither having the
-- 288 --
accent of christians, nor the gait of christian, pagan,
nor man, have so strutted, and bellow'd, that I have
thought some of nature's journeymen had made
men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity
so abominably.
1 Play.
I hope, we have reform'd that indifferently
with us.
Ham.
O, reform it altogether. And let those, that
play your clowns, speak no more than is set down for
them7 note
: 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.
Enter Polonius, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern.
How now, my lord? will the king hear this piece of work?
-- 289 --
Pol.
And the queen too, and that presently.
Ham.
Bid the players make haste.—
[Exit Polonius.
Will you two help to hasten them?
Both.
Ay, my lord.
[Exeunt Ros. and Guil.
Ham.
What, ho; Horatio!
Enter Horatio.
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.
O, 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? Why should the poor be flatter'd?
No, let the candy'd tongue lick absurd pomp;
And crook 8 notethe pregnant hinges of the knee,
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?
Since 9 note
my dear soul was mistress of her choice,
And could of men distinguish1 note
, 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,
2 noteWhose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled,
-- 290 --
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 see'st that act a-foot,
Even with the very comment of thy soul
Observe my uncle: if his occulted guilt
Do not itself unkennel in one speech,
It is a damned ghost that we have seen;
And my imaginations are as foul
As 5 note
Vulcan'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.
Ham.
They are coming to the play; I must be idle:
Get you a place.
Danish march. A flourish.
Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and others.
King.
How fares our cousin Hamlet?
-- 291 --
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, 4 notenor mine now.—My lord, you play'd
once i' the university, you say?
To Polonius.
Pol.
That did I, 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' the
Capitol; Brutus kill'd me.
Ham.
It was a brute part of him5 note, to kill so capital
a calf there.—Be the players ready?
Ros.
Ay, my lord; 6 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.
O ho! do you mark that?
[To the king.
Ham.
Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
[Lying down at Ophelia's feet7 note
.
-- 292 --
Oph.
No, my lord.
Ham.
I mean, my head upon your lap8 note?
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 maids' legs.
Oph.
What is, my lord?
Ham.
Nothing.
Oph.
You are merry, my lord.
Ham.
Who, I?
Oph.
Ay, my lord.
Ham.
O! your only jig-maker1 note
. What should a
man do, but be merry? for, look you, how cheerfully
my mother looks, and my father died within
these two hours.
Oph.
Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord.
Ham.
So long? 2 note
Nay, then let the devil wear
black, for I'll have a suit of sables. O heavens!
-- 293 --
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 suffer3 note
not thinking
-- 294 --
on, with the hobby-horse; whose epitaph, is For, O,
for, O, the hobby-horse is forgot.
Trumpets sound. The dumb shew follows.
Enter a king and queen4 note, very lovingly; the queen embracing
him, and he her. She kneels, and makes shew
of protestation unto him. He takes her up, and declines
his head upon her neck: 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 King's ears, and exit.
The queen returns; finds the king dead, and makes
-- 295 --
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 queen with gifts; she seems loath and
unwilling a while, but in the end, accepts his love.
[Exeunt.
Oph.
What means this, my lord?
Ham.
5 note
Marry, this is miching malicho; it means
mischief.
-- 296 --
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 shew meant?
Ham.
Ay, or any shew that you'll shew him:
Be not you asham'd to shew6 note, he'll not shame to tell
you what it means.
Oph.
You are naught, you are naught; I'll mark
the play.
Pro.
For us, and for our tragedy,
Here stooping to your clemency,
We beg your hearing patiently.
Ham.
Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?
Oph.
'Tis brief, my lord.
Ham.
As woman's love.
-- 297 --
Enter a King, and a Queen.
P. King.
Full thirty times hath Phœbus' cart7 note
gone round
Neptune's salt wash, and Tellus' orbed ground;
And thirty dozen moons, with borrowed 8 notesheen
About the world have times twelve thirties been;
Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands,
Unite commutual in most sacred bands.
P. Queen.
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, 9 note
even as they love.
And women's fear and love hold quantity;
In neither ought, or in extremity.
Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know;
1 note
And as my love is siz'd, my fear is so.
-- 298 --
Where love is great2 note, the littlest doubts are fear;
Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.
P. King.
'Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too;
My operant powers3 note
their functions leave to do:
And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
Honour'd, belov'd; and, haply, one as kind
For husband shalt thou—
P. Queen.
O, 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'd the first.
Ham.
That's wormwood.
P. Queen.
4 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.
P. King.
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 fruit unripe, sticks on the tree;
But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be.
Most necessary 'tis, that we forget
To pay ourselves 5 notewhat to ourselves is debt:
What to ourselves in passion we propose,
The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
-- 299 --
6 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 even our loves should with our fortunes change;
For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,
Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
The great man down, you mark, his favourite 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.
P. Queen.
Nor earth to give me food, nor heaven light!
Sport, and repose, lock from me, day, and night!
To desperation7 note turn my trust and hope!
8 note
An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope!
-- 300 --
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,—
[To Oph.
P. King.
'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here a while;
My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
The tedious day with sleep.
[Sleeps.
P. Queen.
Sleep rock thy brain;
And never come mischance betwixt us twain!
[Exit.
Ham.
Madam, how like you this play?
Queen.
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
Ham.
O, but she'll keep her word.
King.
Have you heard the argument? Is there no
offence in't?
Ham.
No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no
offence i' the world.
King.
What do you call the play?
Ham.
The mouse-trap9 note
. Marry, how? Tropically.
This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna:
Gonzago is the duke's name; his wife, 1 noteBaptista:
you shall see anon; 'tis a knavish piece of work: But
what of that? your majesty, and we that have free
souls, it touches us not: Let the gall'd jade wince2 note
,
our withers are unwrung.—
-- 301 --
Enter Lucianus.
This is one Lucianus, nephew to the duke.
Oph.
You are as good as a chorus, my lord.
3 note
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.
4 noteStill better, and worse.
Ham.
5 note
So you mistake your husbands.
Begin, murderer.—Leave thy damnable faces, and begin.
Come—The croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.
-- 302 --
Luc.
Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;
Confederate season, else no creature seeing;
Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
With Hecat's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thy natural magic, and dire property,
On wholesome life usurp immediately.
[Pours the poison into his ears.
Ham.
He poisons him i' the garden for his estate.
His name's Gonzago: the story is extant, and written
in very choice Italian: You shall see anon, how the
murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife.
Oph.
The king rises.
Ham.
What! frighted with false fire6 note!
Queen.
How fares my lord?
Pol.
Give o'er the play.
King.
Give me some light:—away!
All.
Lights, lights, lights7 note!
[Exeunt All but Hamlet, and Horatio.
Ham.
Why, let the strucken deer go weep,
The hart ungalled play:
For some must watch, whilst some must sleep;
Thus runs the world away.—
Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers, 9Q1184 (if the
rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me8 note
) with two
-- 303 --
Provencial roses9 note
on my rayed shoes, get me a fellowship
in 1 note
a cry of players, sir?
-- 304 --
Hor.
Half a share.
Ham.
A whole one, I. 9Q1187
For thou dost know, 2 noteO Damon dear,
This realm dismantled was
Of Jove himself; and now reigns here
3 note
A very, very—peacock.
-- 305 --
Hor.
You might have rhym'd.
Ham.
O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word
for a thousand pound. Didst perceive?
Hor.
Very well, my lord.
Ham.
Upon the talk of the poisoning,—
Hor.
I did very well note him.
Ham.
Ah, ha!—Come, some music; come, the recorders.—
For if the king like not the comedy,
4 noteWhy then, belike, he likes it not, perdy5 note
.—
Enter Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern.
Come, some music.
Guil.
Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.
Ham.
Sir, a whole history.
Guil.
The king, sir,—
Ham.
Ay, sir, what of him?
Guil.
Is, in his retirement, marvelous distemper'd.
Ham.
6 noteWith drink, sir?
Guil.
No, my lord, with choler.
Ham.
Your wisdom should shew itself more richer,
to signify this to the doctor; for, for me to put him
-- 306 --
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 wholsome 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 wholsome 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.
O wonderful son, that can so astonish a
mother!—But is there no sequel at the heels of this
mother's admiration? impart.
Ros.
She desires to speak with you in her closet,
ere you go to bed.
Ham.
We shall obey, were she ten times our mother.
Have you any 7 notefurther trade with us?
Ros.
My lord, you once did love me.
Ham.
And do still8 note, by these pickers and stealers.
Ros.
Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper?
you do, surely, bar the door upon your own
liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend.
-- 307 --
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, sir, but While the grass grows,—the proverb
is something musty.
Enter the Players, with Recorders9 note
.
O, 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 toil?
Guil.
1 note
O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my
love is 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.
-- 308 --
Ham.
I do beseech you.
Guil.
I know no touch of it, my lord.
Ham.
'Tis as easy as lying: govern these 2 noteventages
with your fingers and thumb3 note
, give it breath
with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent
music. Look you, these are the stops.
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 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
-- 309 --
there is much music, 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. [Enter
Polonius.]—God bless you, sir!
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 'tis like a camel, indeed.
Ham.
Methinks it is like a weazel4 note
.
Pol.
It is back'd like a weazel.
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 Ros. Guil. Hor. &c.
'Tis now the very witching time of night;
-- 310 --
When church yards yawn, and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world: Now could I drink hot blood,
6 note
And do such business as the bitter 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, not unnatural:
I will speak daggers to her7 note, but use none;
My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites:
How in my words soever she be shent8 note
,
-- 311 --
9 noteTo give them seals never, my soul, consent!
SCENE III.
A room in the palace.
Enter King, Rosencrantz, 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: 9Q1188
The terms of our estate may not endure
Hazard so near us, as doth hourly grow
1 note
Out of his lunes. 9Q1189
Guil.
We will ourselves provide:
Most holy and religious fear it is
To keep those many many bodies safe,
That live, and feed, upon your majesty.
-- 312 --
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,
2 note
That spirit, upon whose weal depend and rest
The lives of many. The cease of majesty
Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw
What's near it, with it: It is a massy wheel,
Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount,
To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
Are mortis'd and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
Each small annexment, petty consequence,
Attends the boisterous ruin. Never 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 Ros. and Guil.
Enter Polonius.
Pol.
My lord, he's going to his mother's closet;
Behind the arras I'll convey myself,
To hear the process; I'll warrant, she'll tax him home:
And, as you said, and wisely was it said,
-- 313 --
'Tis meet, that some more audience than a mother,
3 note
Since nature makes them partial, should o'er-hear
The speech, 4 noteof vantage. Fare you well, my liege:
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
And tell you what I know.
King.
Thanks, dear my lord.
[Exit.
O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
A brother's murder!—Pray can I not,
5 note
Though inclination be as sharp as will; 9Q1190
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 heavens,
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 O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder!—
-- 314 --
That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
Of those effects for which I did the murder,
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
6 noteMay one be pardon'd, and retain the 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,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then? what rests?
Try what repentance can: What can it not?
7 noteYet what can it, when one cannot repent?
O wretched state! O bosom, black as death!
8 note
O 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 kneels.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham.
Now might I do it, pat, now he is praying9 note;
-- 315 --
And now I'll do't;—And so he goes to heaven:
And so am I reveng'd? That would be scann'd1 note:
A villain kills my father; and, for that,
2 noteI, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.
Why, this is hire and salary3 note, not revenge.
He took my father grossly, full of bread;
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And, how his audit stands, who knows, save heaven?
But, in our circumstance and course of thought,
'Tis heavy with him: And am I then reveng'd,
To take him in the purging of his soul,
When he is fit and season'd for his passage?
No.
4 note
Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent:
-- 316 --
When he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage5 note
;
Or in the incestuous pleasures 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 heaven6 note
;
And that his soul may be as damn'd, and black,
7 note
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays:
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.
[Exit.
-- 317 --
The King rises.
King.
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:
Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go.
Exit.
SCENE IV.
The Queen's closet.
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. 9Q1191
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.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham.
Now, mother; what's the matter?
Queen.
Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
Ham.
Mother, you have my father much offended.
-- 318 --
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;
And—'would it 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, help, ho!
Pol. [Behind]
What, ho! help!
Ham.
How now! a rat9 note?
Dead, for a ducat, dead.
[Hamlet strikes at Polonius through the arras.
Pol. [Behind]
O, I am slain.
Queen.
O me, what hast thou done?
Ham.
Nay, I know not:
Is it the king?
Queen.
O, 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 king1 note?
-- 319 --
Ham.
Ay, lady, 'twas my word.—
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewel!
[To Polonius.
I took thee for thy better; 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;
If damned custom have not braz'd it so,
That it be 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; 2 note
takes off the rose
-- 320 --
From the fair forehead of an innocent love,
And sets a blister there; makes marriage vows
As false as dicers' oaths: O, such a deed,
As 3 notefrom the body of contraction plucks
The very soul; and sweet religion makes
A rhapsody of words: 4 note
Heaven's face doth glow;
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
With tristful visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act.
Queen.
Ay me, what act,
-- 321 --
5 note
That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?
Ham.
6 note
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 curls7 note
; the front of Jove himself;
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
A station8 note
like the herald Mercury,
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;
A combination, and a form, indeed,
-- 322 --
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 ear9 note
,
Blasting his wholsome brother. Have you eyes?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
And batten1 note
on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?
You cannot call it, love: for, at your age,
The hey-day in the blood2 note
is tame, it's humble,
And waits upon the judgment; And what judgment
Would step from this to this? 3 note
Sense, sure, you have,
-- 323 --
Else, could you not have motion: 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 difference. What devil was't,
That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind4 note
?
Eyes without feeling5 note, feeling without sight,
Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
Or but a sickly part of one true sense
Could not so mope6 note
.
O shame! where is thy blush? 7 note
Rebellious hell,
-- 324 --
If thou canst mutiny8 note 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 9 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 1 notegrained spots,
As will not leave their tinct2 note
.
Ham.
Nay, but to live
In the rank sweat of an 3 note
incestuous bed;
-- 325 --
Stew'd in corruption; honying, and making love
Over the nasty stye;—
Queen.
O, speak to me 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 4 notevice of kings:
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule;
5 noteThat from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
And put it in his pocket!
Queen.
No more.
Enter Ghost.
Ham.
6 noteA king of shreds and patches:—
Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings,
You heavenly guards!—What would your gracious figure?
Queen.
Alas, he's mad.
Ham.
Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
That, 7 notelaps'd in time and passion, lets go by
The important acting of your dread command?
O, say!
-- 326 --
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 you do bend your eye on vacancy,
And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
Your bedded hair, 8 notelike life in excrements,
Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son,
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?
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 upon 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?
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!
9 note
My father, in his habit as he liv'd!
-- 327 --
Look, where he goes, even 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.
Ecstasy1 note!
My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
And makes as healthful music: It is 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;
Whiles rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;
Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
And 2 notedo not spread the compost on the weeds,
To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue:
For, in the fatness of these pursy times,
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg;
Yea, 3 note
curb, and woo, for leave to do him good.
Queen.
O, 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.
-- 328 --
Good night: but go not to mine uncle's bed;
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
4 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 easy5 note:
For use can almost change the stamp of nature,
And either master 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 heaven hath pleas'd it so,—
6 note
To punish him with me, and me with this,—
That I must be their scourge and minister.
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.—
-- 329 --
One word more, good lady7 note.
Queen.
What shall I do?
Ham.
Not this, by no means, that I bid you do:
Let the bloat king8 note
tempt you again to bed
Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you, his mouse9 note
;
And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses1 note
,
Or padling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
Make you to ravel all this matter out,
2 note
That I essentially am not in madness,
-- 330 --
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 gib2 note
,
Such dear concernings hide? who would do so?
No, in despight of sense, and secrecy,
3 note
Unpeg the basket on the house's top,
Let the birds fly; and, like the famous ape,
To try conclusions4 note
, in the basket creep,
-- 331 --
And break your 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; 9Q1195 you know that?
Queen.
Alack, I had forgot; 'tis so concluded on.
Ham.
5 noteThere's letters seal'd: and my two school-fellows,—
Whom I will trust, as I will 6 noteadders fang'd,—
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
Hoist7 note with his own petar: and it 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 guts8 note
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.
-- 332 --
9 noteCome, sir, to draw toward an end with you:—
Good night, mother.
[Exit the Queen, and Hamlet dragging in Polonius.
1 noteACT IV.
SCENE I.
A royal apartment.
Enter King, Queen, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern.
King.
There's matter in these sighs, these profound heaves;
You must translate; 'tis fit we understand them:
Where is your son?
Queen.
Bestow this place on us a little while2 note.—
[To Ros. and Guil. who go out.
Ah, my good lord3 note, what have I seen to-night?
King.
What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet?
Queen.
Mad as the sea, and wind, when both contend
Which is the mightier: In his lawless fit,
-- 333 --
Behind the arras hearing something stir,
He whips his rapier out, and cries, A rat! 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 4 note
out of haunt,
This mad young man: but, so much was our love,
We would not understand what was most fit;
But, like the owner of a foul disease,
To keep it from divulging, let it feed
Even 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, 5 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!
-- 334 --
Enter Rosencrantz, 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 dragg'd him:
Go, seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body
Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this.
[Exeunt Ros. and Guil.
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,
6 note
Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,
As level as the cannon to his blank,
Transports his poison'd shot, may miss our name,
-- 335 --
And hit the woundless air.—O, come away!
My soul is full of discord, and dismay.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Another room.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham.
—Safely stow'd, But soft7 note,—
Ros. &c. within.
Hamlet! Lord Hamlet!
Ham.
What noise? who calls on Hamlet? O,
here they come.
Enter Rosencrantz, 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 soaks up the king's countenance,
his rewards, his authorities. But such officers
do the king best service in the end: He keeps them,
8 note
like an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouth'd,
-- 336 --
to be last swallow'd: When he needs what you have
glean'd, it is but squeezing you, and, spunge, you
shall be dry again.
Ros.
I understand you not, my lord.
Ham.
I am glad of it: A knavish speech sleeps in
a foolish ear.
Ros.
My lord, you must tell us where the body is,
and go with us to the king.
Ham.
9 note
The body is with the king, but the king
is not with the body. The king is a thing—
Guil.
A thing, my lord?
Ham.
1 note
Of nothing: bring me to him. 2 note
Hide fox, and all after.
[Exeunt.
-- 337 --
SCENE III.
Another room.
Enter King.
King.
I have sent to seek him, and to find the body.
How dangerous 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, the 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, desperate grown,
By desperate appliance are reliev'd,
Or not at all.—How now? what hath befallen?
Enter Rosencrantz.
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.
-- 338 --
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 politick 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, alas3 note!
Ham.
A man may fish with the worm that hath
eat of a king; and eat of the fish that hath fed of
that worm.
King.
What dost thou mean by this?
Ham.
Nothing, but to shew you how a king may
go a progress through the guts of a beggar.
King.
Where is Polonius?
Ham.
In heaven; send thither to see: if your
messenger find him not there, seek him i' the 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.
King.
Go seek him there.
Ham.
He will stay 'till you come.
[Exeunt Attendants.
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 quickness4 note: Therefore, prepare thyself;
The bark is ready, and 5 note
the wind at help,
-- 339 --
The 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 the affair: Pray you, make haste.
[Exeunt Ros. and Guil.
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 6 note
set
Our sovereign process; which imports at full,
7 note
By letters conjuring to that effect,
The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England;
For like the hectic in my blood he rages,
And thou must cure me: 'Till I know 'tis done,
-- 340 --
7 note
Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun.
[Exit.
SCENE IV.
The frontiers of Denmark.
Enter Fortinbras, with an army.
For.
Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king;
Tell him, that, by his licence, Fortinbras
Craves8 note the conveyance of a promis'd march
Over his kingdom. 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, &c.
Enter Hamlet, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, &c.
Ham.
Good sir9 note, 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,
-- 341 --
Or for some frontier?
Capt.
Truly to speak, 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 the 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 be wi'ye, sir.
[Exit Captain.
Ros.
Will't please you go, my lord?
Ham.
I will be with you straight. Go a little before.
[Exeunt Ros. and the rest.
How all occasions do inform against me,
And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
If his 1 notechief good, and market of his time,
Be but to sleep, and feed? a beast, no more.
Sure, he, that made us with such 2 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 the event,—
A thought, which, quarter'd, hath butone part wisdom,
And, ever, three parts coward,—I do not know
-- 342 --
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,
Even for an egg-shell. 3 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,
4 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 continent5 note
,
-- 343 --
To hide the slain?—O, from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!
[Exit.
SCENE V.
Elsinour. A room in the palace.
Enter Queen, and Horatio.
Queen.
—I will not speak with her.
Hor.
She is importunate: indeed, distract;
Her mood will needs be pity'd.
Queen.
What would she have?
Hor.
She speaks much of her father; says, she hears,
There's tricks i' the world; and hems, and beats her heart;
6 note
Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,
That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing,
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
The hearers to collection7 note
; they aim at it8 note
,
-- 344 --
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.
9 note
Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
Queen.
1 note'Twere good, she were spoken with; for she may strew
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds:
Let her come in.
[Exit Horatio.
To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,
Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss2 note
:
So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
It spills itself, in fearing to be spilt.
Re-enter Horatio, with Ophelia.
Oph.
Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
Queen.
How now, Ophelia?
-- 345 --
Oph.
3 note
How should I your true love know
From another one?
4 note
By 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 is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone;
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.
O, ho!
Queen.
Nay, but Ophelia,—
Oph.
Pray you, mark.
White his shroud as the mountain snow,
Enter King.
Queen.
Alas, look here, my lord.
-- 346 --
Oph.
5 noteLarded all with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did go6 note,
With true-love showers.
King.
How do you, pretty lady?
Oph.
Well, God 'ield you! They say, 7 note
the owl
was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we
are, but know not what we may be. God be at
your table!
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 Saint Valentine's day8 note
,
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine:
Then up he rose, and don'd9 note his cloaths,
1 note
And dupt the chamber door;
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more.
-- 347 --
King.
Pretty Ophelia!
Oph.
Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end
on't.
2 note
By Gis, and by Saint Charity,
Alack, and fie for shame!
Young men will do't, if they come to't;
By cock3 note, they are to blame.
-- 348 --
Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
You promis'd me to wed: He answers4 note.
So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.
King.
How long hath she been thus?
Oph.
I hope, all will be well. We must be patient:
but I cannot choose but weep, to think, they
should lay him i' the 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, 9Q1199
sweet ladies: good night, good night.
[Exit.
King.
Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you.
[Exit Horatio.
O! this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
All from her father's death: And now behold, 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 muddy'd,
Thick and unwholsome in their thoughts, and whispers,
For good Polonius' death; and we have done 5 notebut greenly,
6 note
In hugger-mugger to inter him: Poor Ophelia
-- 349 --
Divided from herself, and her fair judgment;
Without the which we are 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 person to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
9 note
Like to a murdering piece, in many places
Gives me superfluous death!
[A noise within.
-- 350 --
Queen.
Alack! what noise is this1 note?
Enter a Gentleman.
King.
Attend. Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door:—
What is the matter?
Gen.
Save yourself, my lord;
2 noteThe ocean, over-peering of his list, 9Q1200
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,
3 note
The ratifiers and props of every ward,
-- 351 --
They cry, Choose we; Laertes shall be king!
Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds,
Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!
Queen.
How cheerfully on the false trail they cry!
4 noteO, this is counter, you false Danish dogs.
King.
The doors are broke.
[Noise within.
Enter Laertes, with others.
Laer.
Where is this king?—Sirs, stand you all without.
All.
No, let's come in.
Laer.
I pray you, give me leave.
-- 352 --
All.
We will, we will.
[Exeunt.
Laer.
I thank you:—Keep the door.—O thou vile king,
Give me my father.
Queen.
Calmly, good Laertes.
Laer.
That drop of blood, that's calm, proclaims me bastard;
Cries, cuckold, to my father; brands the harlot
Even here, between the chaste 5 note
unsmirched brow
Of my true mother.
King.
What is the cause, Laertes,
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?—
Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person;
There's such divinity doth hedge a king,
That treason can but peep to what it would,
Acts little of his will.—Tell me, Laertes,
Why thou art 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?
-- 353 --
Laer.
My will, not all the world's:
And, for my means, I'll husband them so well,
They shall go far with little.
King.
Good Laertes,
If you desire to know the certainty
Of your dear father's death, 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 pelican6 note
,
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 7 note
to your judgment 'pear,
As day does to your eye.
Crowd within.
Let her come in.
Laer.
How now! what noise is that?
-- 354 --
Enter Ophelia, fantastically dress'd with straws and flowers.
O heat, dry up my brains! tears, seven times salt,
Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!—
By heaven, thy madness shall be pay'd with weight,
'Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May!
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!—
O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits
Should be as mortal as an old man's life?
8 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 bier9 note
;
Hey no nonny, nonny hey nonny:
And on his grave rain'd many a tear;—
Fare you well, my dove!
Laer.
Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move thus.
-- 355 --
Oph.
You must sing, Down a-down1 note
, an you call him a-down-a.
2 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.
3 note
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance;
pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's
for thoughts.
-- 356 --
Laer.
A document in madness; thoughts and remembrance
fitted.
Oph.
There's fennel for you, and columbines4 note
:
5 note
There's rue for you;—and here's some for me:—
-- 357 --
we may call it, herb of grace o' sundays:—6 note
you
may wear your rue with a difference.—There's a
daisy:—I would give you some violets; but they
wither'd all, when my father died:—They say, he
made a good end,—
7 note
For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy,—
Laer.
Thought, and affliction, passion, hell itself,
She turns to favour, and to prettiness.
-- 358 --
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.
8 note
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll:
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away moan;
God a' mercy on his soul9 note
!
And of all christian souls! I pray God. God be wi'you.
[Exit Oph.
Laer.
Do you see this, O God?
King.
Laertes, I must common with your grief,
Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will,
And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me:
-- 359 --
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,—
1 note
No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,
No noble rite, nor formal ostentation,—
Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth,
That I must call't in question.
King.
So you shall;
2 note
And, where the offence is, let the great axe fall.
I pray you, go with me.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Another Room.
Enter Horatio, with a Servant.
Hor.
What are they, that would speak with me?
Serv.
Sailors, sir;
They say, they have letters for you.
-- 360 --
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 the embassador
that was bound for England; if your name be Horatio,
as I am let to know it is.
Horatio reads the letter.
HORATIO, when thou shalt have overlook'd this,
give these fellows some means to the king; they have
letters for him. Ere we were two days old at sea, a
pirate of very warlike appointment gave us chace:
Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on a compell'd
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 would'st fly death. I have words
to speak in thine ear, will make thee dumb; yet are they
much too light 3 notefor the bore of the matter. These
good fellows will bring thee where I am. Rosencrantz
and Guildenstern hold their course for England: of
them I have much to tell thee. Farewel.
He that thou knowest thine, Hamlet.
-- 361 --
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 VII.
Another Room.
Enter King, and Laertes.
King.
Now must your conscience my acquittance seal,
And you must put me in your heart for friend;
Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear,
That he, which hath your noble father slain,
Pursu'd 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, greatness, 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 they are strong. The queen, his mother,
Lives almost by his looks; and for myself,
(My virtue, or my plague, be it either which)
She is 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 4 notethe general gender bear him:
Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
5 note
Work, like the spring that turneth wood to stone,
-- 362 --
Convert his gyves to graces; so that my arrows,
Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind6 note,
Would have reverted to my bow again,
And not where I had aim'd them.
Laer.
And so have I a noble father lost;
A sister driven into desperate terms;
Whose worth, 7 noteif praises may go back again,
Stood challenger on mount of all the age
For her perfections:—But my revenge will come.
King.
Break not your sleeps for that: you must not think,
That we are made of stuff so flat and dull,
That we can let our beard be shook with danger8 note
,
And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more:
I lov'd your father, and we love ourself;
And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine,—
How now? what news9 note?
Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
Letters, my lord, from Hamlet1 note:
This to your majesty; this to the queen.
King.
From Hamlet! Who brought them?
Mess.
Sailors, my lord, they say: I saw them not;
They were given me by Claudio, he receiv'd them
-- 363 --
Of him that brought them2 note.
King.
Laertes, you shall hear them:—
Leave us.
[Exit Mess.
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 the occasion of my sudden and
more strange 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 am lost in it, my lord. But let him come;
It warms the very sickness in my heart,
That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
Thus diddest thou.
King.
If it be so, Laertes,—
As how should it be so?—how otherwise?—
Will you be rul'd by me?
Laer.
Ay, my lord;
So you will not o'er-rule me to a peace.
King.
To thine own peace. If he be now return'd,—
3 note
As checking at his voyage, and that he means
-- 364 --
No more to undertake it,—I will work him
To an exploit, now ripe in my device,
Under the which he shall not choose but fall:
And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe;
But even his mother shall uncharge the practice,
And call it, accident.
Laer.
4 noteMy lord, 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 talk'd 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,
5 note
Of the unworthiest siege.
Laer.
What part is that, my lord?
King.
A very ribband in the cap of youth,
Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes
The light and careless livery that it wears,
Than settled age his sables, and his weeds,
6 note
Importing health, and graveness.—Two months since,
Here was a gentleman of Normandy,—
I have seen myself, and serv'd against, the French,
-- 365 --
And they can well on horseback: 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, 7 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 very same.
Laer.
I know him well: he is the brooch, indeed,
And gem of all the nation.
King.
He made confession of you;
And gave you such a masterly report,
For art and exercise 8 notein your defence,
And for your rapier most especial,
That he cried out, 'Twould be a sight indeed,
If one could match you: 9 note
the scrimers of their nation,
He swore, had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
If you oppos'd them: 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?
-- 366 --
King.
Not that I think, you did not love your father;
But that I know, 1 notelove is begun by time;
And that I see, 2 notein passages of proof,
Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
There lives3 note 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 note
For goodness, growing to a pleurisy,
Dies in his own too much: That 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 spendthrift sigh
That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o' the ulcer:
-- 367 --
Hamlet comes back; What would you undertake,
To shew yourself your father's son in deed
More than in words?
Laer.
To cut his throat i'the church.
King.
No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize;
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 o'er 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 choose
-- 368 --
7 note
A sword unbated, and, in 8 note
a pass of practice,
Requite him for your father.
Laer.
I will do't:
And, for the purpose, I'll anoint my sword.
I bought an unction of a mountebank,
So mortal, that, but dip a knife in it,
Where it draws blood, no cataplasm so rare,
Collected from all simples that have virtue
Under the moon, can save the thing from death,
That is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point
With this contagion; that, if I gall him slightly,
It may be death.
King.
Let's further think of this;
Weigh, what convenience, both of time and means,
9 noteMay fit us to our shape: If this should fail,
And that our drift look through our bad performance,
'Twere better not assay'd; therefore, this project
Should have a back, or second, that might hold,
-- 369 --
If this should 1 note
blast in proof. Soft;—let me see:—
We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings,—
I ha't:
When in your motion you are hot and dry,
(As make your bouts more violent to that end)
And that he calls for drink, 2 note
I'll have prepar'd him
A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping,
If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck, 9Q1202
Our purpose may hold there. But stay, what noise3 note?
Enter Queen.
How now, sweet queen?
Queen.
One woe doth tread upon another's heel4 note
,
So fast they follow:—Your sister's drown'd, Laertes.
Laer.
Drown'd! O, where?
Queen.
There is a willow grows ascaunt the brook5 note,
That shews his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
Therewith fantastic garlands did she make,
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, 6 noteand long purples,
-- 370 --
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, 9Q1203
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them:
There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies, and herself,
Fell in the weeping brook. Her cloaths spread wide;
And, mermaid-like, a while they bore her up:
7 note
Which time, she chaunted snatches of old tunes;
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indu'd
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, is she 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. 9Q1204—Adieu, my lord!
I have a speech of fire; that fain would blaze,
But that this folly drowns it.
[Exit.
King.
Let's follow, Gertrude:
How much I had to do to calm his rage!
Now fear I, this will give it start again;
Therefore, let's follow.
[Exeunt.
-- 371 --
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].
