Ham.

Ha, ha! ^note—Come, some musick; come, the recorders.—

For if the king like not the comedy,
Why then, belike, he likes it not, perdy.—
Come, some musick.

Gui.

Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.

Ham.

Sir, a whole history.

Gui.

The king, sir,—

Ham.

Ay, sir, what of him?

Gui.

Is, in his retirement, marvelous distemper'd.

Ham.

With drink, sir?

Gui.

No, my lord, with ^note choler.

Ham.

Your wisdom should shew itself more richer ^note, to signify this to the doctor; ^note for, for me ^note to put him to his purgation, would, perhaps, plunge him into more ^note choler.

Gui.

Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and start not ^note so wildly from my affair.

Ham.

I am tame, sir; pronounce.

Gui.

The queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you:

Ham.

You are welcome.

Gui.

Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do your mother's commandment: if not, your pardon, and my return, shall be the end of business ^note.

Ham.

Sir, I cannot.

Ros.

What ^note, my lord?14Q1451

Ham.

Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseas'd: But, sir, such answer ^note as ^note 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 strook

her into amazement and admiration.

Ham.

O wonderful son, that can so 'stonish ^note a mother!— But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? impart. ^note

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 further trade with us?

Ros.

My lord, you once did love me.

Ham.

And do ^note still, by these pickers and stealers.

Ros.

Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? you do, surely, bar ^note the door upon your ^note own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend.

Ham.

Sir, I lack advancement.

Ros.

How can that be, when you have the voice of the king himself for your succession in Denmark?

Ham.

Ay, sir; ^note but, While the grass grows,—the proverb is something musty.—O, the recorders: ^note—let me see &dagger2; one.—&clquo;To withdraw with you:&crquo;—Why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toil?

Gui.

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?

Gui.

My lord, I cannot.

Ham.

I pray you.

Gui.

Believe me, I cannot.

Ham.

I beseech ^note you.

Gui.

I know no touch of it, my lord.

Ham.

'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages ^note

with your fingers and the umber, ^note give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent ^note musick: Look you, these are the stops.

Gui.

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 ^note my compass: and there is much musick, excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot you make it speak. ^note 'S blood, do you think, I ^note am easier to be play'd on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you ^note cannot ^note play upon Enter Polonius. me.—God bless you, sir!

Pol.

My lord, the queen would speak with you, and presently.

Ham.

Do you see yonder cloud, ^note that's almost in shape of a ^note weazel?14Q1452

Pol.

By the ^note mass, ^note and 'tis like a weazel, indeed.

Ham.

Methinks, it is like a camel.

Pol.

It is back'd like ^note a camel.

Ham.

Or like a whale.

Pol.

Very like a whale.

Ham.

Then will I ^note come to my mother by and by.— They fool me [to Hor.] to the top of my bent.—I will come by and by ^note.

Pol.

I will say so.

Ham.
By and by is easily said.—Leave me, friends. [Exeunt Ros. and Gui. Horatio, and the Players, withdraw.

'Tis now the very witching time of night;
When church-yards yawn, and hell itself breaths ^note out
Contagion to this world: ^note Now could I drink hot blood;
And do such bitter business, as the day ^note
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 ^note to her, but use none;
My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites:
How in my words soever ^note she be shent,
To give them seals never, my soul, consent. [Exeunt. SCENE III. The same. A Room in the same. Enter King, Rosincrantz, and Guildenstern.

Kin.
I like him not; nor stands it safe with us,
To let his madness range. Therefore, prepare you;
I your commission will forthwith dispatch,
And he to England shall along with you:
The terms of our estate may not endure
Hazard so near us, as ^note doth hourly grow
Out of his lunes ^note. ^note

Gui.
We will ourselves provide: ^note
Most holy and religious fear it is,
To keep those many many bodies ^note safe,
That live, and feed, upon your majesty.

Ros.
The single and peculiar life is bound,
With all the strength and armour of the mind,
To keep itself from 'noyance: but much more
That spirit, upon whose weal depend ^note and rest ^note
The lives of many. The cease of ^note majesty
Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw

What's near it, with it: It is ^note a massy wheel,
Fixt on the summit of the highest mount,
To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
Are mortif'd and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
Each small annexment, petty consequence,
Attends the boistrous ruin. ^note Never alone
Did the king sigh, but with a ^note general groan. ^note

Kin.
Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage;
For we will fetters put upon this ^note fear,
Which now goes too free-footed.

Ros.
We ^note will haste ^note us. [Exeunt Ros. and Gui. Enter Polonius.

Pol.
My lord, he's going to his mother's closet;
Behind the arras I'll convey myself,
To hear the process; ^note I'll warrant ^note, she'll tax him home:
And, as you said, and wisely was it said,
'Tis meet, that some more audience than a mother,
Since nature makes them partial, should o'er-hear
The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege:
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
And tell you what I know. ^note

Kin.
Thanks, dear my lord. [Exit Polonius.
O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
A brother's murther!—Pray can I not, ^note
Though inclination14Q1453be as sharp as will;
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
And, like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood?
Is there not rain enough in the sweet 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 ^note, being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault ^note is past. But, o, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murther!—
That cannot be; since I am still possest
Of those effects ^note for which I did the murther,
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
May one be pardon'd, and retain the offence?
In the corrupted currents of this world,
Offence's gilded ^note hand may shove by ^note 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 what14Q1454 repentance can: What can it not?
Yet what can it, when one can not repent? ^note
O wretched state! O bosom, black as death!
O limed soul; that, struggling to be free,
Art more engag'd! Help, angels ^note, make assay!
Bow, stubborn † knees! and, heart ^note, with strings of steel,
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe;
All may be well! [remains in Action of Prayer. Enter Hamlet, at a Distance.

Ham.
Now might I do it, pat, now he is praying; ^note
And now I'll do't; [drawing.] And so he goes ^note to heaven:
And so am I reveng'd? That would be scan'd:
A villain kills my father; and, for that,

I, his sole son, ^note do this same villain send
To heaven.
Why, this ^note is hire and salary, ^note not revenge.
He took my father grosly, full of bread;
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as ^note 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.
Up, † sword; and know thou a more horrid hint ^note:
When he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage;
Or in the incestuous pleasures of his bed;
At gaming, swearing; ^note or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in't:
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven;
And that his soul may be as damn'd, and black,
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays:
This physick but prolongs thy sickly days. [Exit.

Kin.
My words fly up, [rises.] my thoughts remain below:
Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go. [Exit. SCENE IV. The same. Another Room in the same. Enter Queen, and Polonius.

Pol.
He will ^note 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. I'll silence me14Q1455 even † here.
Pray you, be round ^note

Que.
I'll warrant you; ^note fear me not.
Withdraw, I hear him coming. [Pol. hides himself. Enter Hamlet, abruptly.

Ham.
Now, mother; what's the matter?

Que.
Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.

Ham.
Mother, you have my father much offended.

Que.
Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue. ^note

Ham.
Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.

Que.
Why, how now, Hamlet?

Ham.
What's the matter now?

Que.
Have you forgot me?

Ham.
No, by the rood ^note, not so:
You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife;
And, 'would it were ^note not so, you are my mother.

Que.
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 ^note a glass,
Where you may see the inmost ^note part of you.

Que.
What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murther me?
Help, help, ho! ^note

Pol. [behind.]
What, ho! help! ^note

Ham.
How now! a rat?
Dead, for a ducat, dead. [making a Pass at the Arras.

Pol. [behind.]
O, I am slain. [falls forward, and dies.

Que.
O me, what hast thou done?

Ham.
Nay, I know not:
Is it the king? [lifts up the Arras, and draws forth Polonius.

Que.
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.

Que.
As kill a ^note king?

Ham.
Ay, lady, 'twas ^note my word—
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewel!
I took thee for thy better; ^note 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 ^note it so,
That it be proof ^note and bulwark against sense.

Que.
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; takes off the rose
From the fair forehead of an innocent love,
And sets a ^note blister there; makes marriage vows
As false as dicers' oaths: o, such a deed,14Q1456
As from the body of contraction plucks
The very soul; and sweet religion makes
A rhapsody of words: Heaven's face doth glow ^note;
Yea, this ^note solidity and compound mass,
With tristful visage ^note, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act.

Que.
Ay me, what act, ^note
That roars so loud, and thunders in the index ^note?

Ham.
Look here ^note, upon this † picture, and on † this;
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
See, what a grace was ^note seated on this ^note † brow:
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command ^note;

A station like the herald Mercury,
New ^note-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;
A combination, and a form, indeed,
Where every god did seem to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a man:
This was your husband. Look you now, what follows:
Here † is your husband; like a mildew'd ear ^note,
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have ^note you eyes?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
And batten on this moor? Ha, have you eyes?
You cannot call it, love: for, at your age,
The hey-day in the blood is tame; it's humble,
And waits upon the judgment; And what judgment
Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have; ^note14Q1457
Else, could you not have motion: But, sure, that sense
Is apoplex'd: for madness would not err;
Nor sense to exstasy was ne'er so thral'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-blind?
Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, ^note
Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
Or but a sickly part of one true sense
Could not so mope.
O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, ^note
If thou canst mutine ^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 ardor gives the charge;
Since frost itself as actively doth burn,
And reason ^note panders ^note will.

Que.
O Hamlet, speak no more:

Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul; ^note
And there I see such black and grained spots ^note,
As will not leave their ^note tinct.

Ham.
Nay, but to live
In the rank sweat of an incestuous ^note bed;
Stew'd in corruption; honying, and making love,
Over the nasty sty;—

Que.
O, speak to me no more;
These words like daggers enter in my ears; ^note
No more, sweet Hamlet.

Ham.
A murtherer, and a villain:
A slave, that is not twentieth part the tythe
Of your precedent lord: a vice of kings:14Q1458
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule;
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
And put it in his pocket.

Que.
No more. ^note Enter Ghost.

Ham.
A king of shreds and patches:—
Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings,
You heavenly guards!—What would your gracious ^note figure?

Que.
Alas, he's mad.

Ham.
Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
That, laps'd in time and passion, let's ^note go by
The important acting of your dread command?
O, say.

Gho.
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 ^note soul;
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works;
Speak to her, Hamlet.

Ham.
How is it with you, lady?

Que.
Alas, how is't with you?
That thus you bend ^note your eye on vacancy,
And with the incorporal ^note air do hold discourse?
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
Your bedded ^note hair, like life in excrements,
Starts up, and stands ^note an 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.

Que.
To whom ^note do you speak this?

Ham.
Do you see nothing † there?

Que.
Nothing at all; yet all, that is, I ^note see.

Ham.
Nor did you nothing hear?

Que.
No, nothing, but ourselves.

Ham.
Why, look you † there; look, how it steals away;
My father, in his habit as he liv'd, ^note
Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal! [Exit Ghost.

Que.
This is the very coinage of your brain:
This bodiless creation exstasy
Is very cunning in.

Ham.
What exstasy? ^note
My pulse, as yours, doth temperately ^note keep time,
And makes as healthful musick: It is not madness,

That I have utter'd: bring me to the test,
And I the ^note matter will re-word; which madness
Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
Lay not that flattering ^note unction to your soul,
That not your trespass, but my madness, speaks:
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place;
Whiles ^note rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;
Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
And do not spread the compost on the ^note weeds,
To make them ranker. ^note Forgive me this my virtue:
For, in the fatness of these pursy ^note times,
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg;
Yea, courb ^note, and woo, for leave to do him good.

Que.
O, Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.

Ham.
O, throw away the worser part of it,
And live ^note the purer with the other half.
Good night: but go not to my uncle's ^note bed;
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
That monster, custom14Q1459, who all sense doth eat ^note
Of habits evil, ^note 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 ^note to-night;
And that shall lend a kind of easiness
To the next abstinence: the next, more easy: ^note
For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
And master even the ^note 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,
I do repent; But heaven hath pleas'd it so,—

To punish me with this, and this with me,—
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 ^note begins, and worse remains behind.—
Hark, one word more, good lady. ^note

Que.
What shall I do!

Ham.
Not this, by no means, that I bid you do:
Let the bloat king ^note tempt you again to bed;
Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you, his mouse;
And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses,
Or padling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
Make you to ravel all this matter out,
That I essentially am not in madness,
But mad in craft. 'Twere good, you let him know:
For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,
Such dear concernings ^note hide? who would do so?
No, in despight of sense, and secresy,
Unpeg the basket on the house's top,
Let the birds fly; and, like the famous ape,
To try conclusions, in the basket creep,
And break your own neck down.

Que.
Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath,
And breath of life, I have no life to breath
What thou hast said to me.

Ham.
I must to England; you know that?

Que.
Alack,
I had forgot; 'tis so concluded on.

Ham.
There's letters seal'd: and my two school-fellows,— ^note
Whom I will trust, as I will adders 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
Hoist with his own petar: and't shall go hard,
But I will delve one yard below their mines,
And blow them at the moon: O, 'tis most sweet,
When in one line two crafts directly meet.—
This man shall set me packing.
I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room:—
Mother, good night.—Indeed, this counsellor
Is now most still, most secret, and most grave,
Who was in life a foolish ^note prating knave.
Come, sir, to † draw toward an end with you:—
Good night, mother. [Exeunt, severally; Hamlet tugging in Polonius.

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