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!
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].
