If it be,
So be it!
No, not I;
That can I;
I pray you.
Such an act
Speak to me:
Pale or red?
Ay, my lord,
See you now;
Ay, my lord.
No, my lord.
Ay, my lord;
I will do't:
Of him, sir.
Mar. and Ber.
To you alone.
Hor. and Mar.
Good my lord!
What said he?
We both obey,
Good my lord,
Are you fair?
Half a share.
Ros and Guil.
O heavy deed!
Go softly on.
So you shall;
Whose was it?
O, treble woe
Come on, sir.
Cor. and Volt.
Dread my lord,
My good lord,—
What hour now?
Upon my sword.
Well, my lord.
Into my grave?
Ros. and Guil.
Well, my lord:
The king, sir—
Sir, I cannot.
What, my lord?
I will say so.
Or not at all.
The very same.
1 Clown. To't.
Hear you, sir;
I beseech you.
In happy time.
Come, my lord.
A piece of him.
It is offended.
Where, my lord?
My lord, I did;
We do, my lord.
Arm'd, say you?
Arm'd, my lord.
Nay, very pale.
I'll visit you.
No more but so?
O, fear me not.
Is it a custom?
I have sworn't.
Nor I, my lord.
My lord, not I.
We will try it.
Not I, my lord.
Ros. and Guild.
Now I am alone.
To any pastime?
'Tis most true;
O heavy burden!
There, my lord.
It shall be so:
The King rises.
Help, help, ho!
As kill a king!
Alas, he's mad!
Pray you, mark.
But not by him.
Let this be so;
It falls right.
A Norman was't?
To muddy death.
2 Clown. Go to.
Sit down awhile,
From top to toe?
Ay, marry, is't;
No, by no means.
Do not, my lord.
I find thee apt;
To tell us this.
I will, my lord.
My lord, I have.
To be commanded.
But let that go.
But how hath she
Not that I know.
Honest, my lord!
I have, my lord.
Prison, my lord!
Upon my honour,—
So, proceed you.
Get you a place.
As woman's love.
With drink, sir?
You are welcome.
Or like a whale.
All may be well.
Ah me, what act,
Nay, but to live
What shall I do?
But where is he?
Let her come in.
Pursu'd my life.
It may be death.
What woman then?
How came he mad?
Nay, I know not.
That is Laertes,
No more be done;
Of blue Olympus.
Hamlet the Dane.
In further evil?
What I have done
Have at you now!
Nay, come again!
Osric and Lords.
Nor thine on me!
Well, good night.
Of mine own eyes.
Not when I saw't.
A sable silver'd.
Think it no more:
No, it is struck.
Alas, poor ghost!
To those of mine!
Nay, but swear't.
Consent to swear.
Of his behaviour.
I shall, my lord.
Mad for thy love?
His access to me.
Than to entreaty.
It likes us well;
My honoured lord!
Neither, my lord.
This is too long.
Did you assay him
At home, my lord.
We will, my lord.
O, my dear lord,—
What is, my lord?
Come, some music!
I do beseech you.
We will haste us.
I'll warrant you:
A thing, my lord!
At supper! where?
How now, Ophelia?
Nay, but Ophelia—
We will, we will.
Winner and loser?
Let them come in.
Why ask you this?
Upon what ground?
E'en so, my lord.
Up from my cabin,
Ay, good my lord.
No, my good lord.
Come, one for me.
You mock me, sir.
No, by this hand.
Ay, my good lord.
Give him the cup.
I do not think't.
Follow my mother.
Never believe it:
As thou'rt a man,
Let four captains
Well, sit we down,
Last night of all,
'Tis very strange.
I warr'nt it will.
Do you doubt that?
My fate cries out,
Swear by my sword.
I would know that.
Most welcome home!
Receiv'd his love?
Within the centre.
Here in the lobby.
So he does indeed.
My most dear lord!
Of his true state.
We shall, my lord.
I shall obey you:—
The Devil himself.
What, ho, Horatio!
How fares my lord?
My lord, I cannot.
Very like a whale.
Could not so mope.
Where is your son?
Do not believe it.
Where is Polonius?
No, let's come in.
Give me my father!
Of my true mother.
Why, now you speak
Know you the hand?
Can you advise me?
Now, out of this,—
Drown'd! O, where?
It might, my lord.
And smelt so? Pah!
What's his weapon?
Rapier and dagger.
Our son shall win.
How is't, Laertes?
To tell my story.—
O, I die, Horatio;
Long live the king!
The King my father!
This marvel to you.
But where was this?
To his own scandal.
It waves me still.—
All my smooth body.
What news, my lord?
As gaming, my lord.
Of general assault.
But, my good lord,—
Of man and country.
Very good, my lord.
Both your majesties
Denmark's a prison.
'The mobled queen'?
What did you enact?
Give o'er the play.
Very well, my lord.
God bless you, sir!
—Leave me, friends.
Have you forgot me?
Is very cunning in.
Good night, mother.
What is the matter?
Where is my father?
Who shall stay you?
God bless you, sir.
How now! What news?
'Thus didest thou.'
More than in words?
1 Clown. E'en that.
What ceremony else?
Of bell and burial.
Pluck them asunder.
How if I answer no?
Nay, good my lord,—
You know the wager?
Very well, my lord;
How does the Queen?
To the unsatisfied.
Not from his mouth,
Francisco, a Soldier
Give you good-night.
I have seen nothing.
See, it stalks away!
What think you on't?
Hold off your hands.
Now wears his crown.
O my prophetic soul!
And prey on garbage.
And all we wail for.
Words, words, words.
We'll wait upon you.
'Tis brief, my lord.
A whole one, I.
Out of his lunacies.
Over the nasty sty,—
Bring him before us.
And let him know so.
God b' wi' you, sir.
What would she have?
The doors are broke.
How was this seal'd?
Of mighty opposites.
I be so able as now.
And hurt my brother.
I embrace it freely;
Say you so? come on.
He is justly serv'd;
This warlike volley.
Where is this sight?
The sight is dismal;
Not a mouse stirring.
It would be spoke to.
Question it, Horatio.
No; you'll reveal it.
But you'll be secret?
Yes, faith, heartily.
My lord, we will not.
To youth and liberty.
To what end, my lord?
What speech, my lord?
Anon he finds him,
To both your honours.
Madam, I wish it may.
O, confound the rest!
Sleep rock thy brain,
Sir, a whole history.
Ay, sir, what of him?
Believe me, I cannot.
Thanks, dear my lord.
Why, how now, Hamlet!
Speak to her, Hamlet.
The king is a thing,—
I will do't, my lord.
Or for some frontier?
Calmly, good Laertes.
None but his enemies.
And call it accident.
Upon my life, Lamond.
How now, sweet queen!
What's that, my lord?
O my son, what theme?
This is mere madness:
Remember it, my lord!
That is most certain.
Thou know'st already.
Nothing, neither way.
by William Shakespeare
A Gentleman, Courtier.
Who hath reliev'd you?
Bernardo has my place.
Hail to your lordship!
To let you know of it.
I will watch to-night;
Marry, well bethought:
In honourable fashion.
I shall obey, my lord.
But do not go with it!
Heaven will direct it.
Nay, let's follow him.
Must render up myself.
Good my lord, tell it.
Are joyfully return'd.
All given to mine ear.
Then is the world one.
There are the players.
In what, my dear lord?
Nay, that follows not.
Ay, so, God b' wi' ye!
Most like a gentleman.
I warrant your honour.
You might have rhymed.
What's the matter now?
No more, sweet Hamlet.
O Gertrude, come away!
Farewell, dear mother.
From another one?
I pray you go with me.
If it be so, Laertes,—
Scene I. A churchyard.
Lay her i' the earth;—
What is he whose grief
Thou pray'st not well.
O, he is mad, Laertes.
Peace; who comes here?
She well instructs me.
Sir, in this audience,
And will not wrong it.
Here's to thy health.—
Speak loudly for him.—
And I am sick at heart.
Friends to this ground.
What, is Horatio there?
As thou art to thyself:
Of his affection to me.
Scene IV. The platform.
My hour is almost come,
To what I shall unfold.
Ay, by heaven, my lord.
Look you, I'll go pray.
Come hither, gentlemen,
Ay, very well, my lord.
My lord, I do not know;
But truly I do fear it.
That hath made him mad.
Do you think 'tis this?
It may be, very likely.
Fare you well, my lord.
Faith, her privates we.
Now falls on Priam.—
Most free in his reply.
I never gave you aught.
Ha, ha! are you honest?
You are merry, my lord.
Lights, lights, lights!
Dead for a ducat, dead!
O, speak to me no more;
We cannot get from him.
Who commands them, sir?
it means, say you this:
Save yourself, my lord:
Fare you well, my dove!
It could not move thus.
Do you see this, O God?
To give it due content.
Let him bless thee too.
A face without a heart?
Let's follow, Gertrude;
Therefore let's follow.
How long is that since?
What, the fair Ophelia?
Good my lord, be quiet.
Stick fiery off indeed.
Gertrude, do not drink.
Treachery! seek it out.
Is it not like the King?
Ay, madam, it is common.
Did you not speak to it?
Our duty to your honour.
What I have said to you.
Look, my lord, it comes!
Go on; I'll follow thee.
May sweep to my revenge.
O most pernicious woman!
How is't, my noble lord?
Well, we shall sift him.
As therein are set down.
What do you think of me?
Do you know me, my lord?
These tedious old fools!
Did he receive you well?
I was the more deceived.
For husband shalt thou,—
Still better, and worse.
Sir, I lack advancement.
No, by the rood, not so:
And reason panders will.
O Hamlet, speak no more:
Alas, how is't with you,
The unseen good old man.
They are of Norway, sir.
How do you, pretty lady?
Conceit upon her father.
Let him demand his fill.
Will you know them then?
As day does to your eye.
No, no, he is dead,
Will you be rul'd by me?
Not a jot more, my lord.
When thou liest howling.
The devil take thy soul!
Into a towering passion.
What is it you will see?
So bloodily hast struck?
Let us haste to hear it,
HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK
Laertes, Son to Polonius.
Ghost of Hamlet's Father.
Have you had quiet guard?
And liegemen to the Dane.
Do, if it will not stand.
I would I had been there.
But let me hear from you.
'Tis in my memory lock'd,
I am thy father's spirit;
But he's an arrant knave.
Give me one poor request.
Nor I, my lord, in faith.
My lord, I did intend it.
Welcome, my good friends!
When it prov'd otherwise?
We think not so, my lord.
No, indeed, are they not.
To hear him so inclin'd.—
That thus he suffers for.
What means your lordship?
I think nothing, my lord.
What means this, my lord?
Give me some light:—away!
A very, very—pajock.
I did very well note him.
By-and-by is easily said.
And tell you what I know.
Ay, lady, 'twas my word.—
A murderer and a villain;
And put it in his pocket!
How is it with you, lady?
Do you see nothing there?
Nor did you nothing hear?
One word more, good lady.
He is dead and gone;
Alas, look here, my lord!
Never departed more.
After the thing it loves.
Go to thy death-bed,
Of him that brought them.
My lord, I will be rul'd;
Of the unworthiest siege.
2 Clown. But is this law?
1 Clown. For no man, sir.
Who is to be buried in't?
Why he more than another?
skull, the king's jester.
Couch we awhile and mark.
A very noble youth: mark.
As to peace-parted souls.
Why, what a king is this!
I beseech you, remember,—
I am satisfied in nature,
The point envenom'd too!—
Then, venom, to thy work.
Claudius, King of Denmark.
Horatio, Friend to Hamlet.
Two Clowns, Grave-diggers.
I am glad to see you well:
In my mind's eye, Horatio.
Then saw you not his face?
The triumph of his pledge.
And hears it roar beneath.
You shall not go, my lord.
Speak; I am bound to hear.
Not I, my lord, by heaven.
Propose the oath, my lord.
And let him ply his music.
How may we try it further?
That's very true, my lord.
Nor the soles of her shoe?
My lord, we were sent for.
Do the boys carry it away?
Be all my sins remember'd.
In censure of his seeming.
What do you call the play?
I am tame, sir:—pronounce.
We will ourselves provide:
O me, what hast thou done?
To whom do you speak this?
No, nothing but ourselves.
What thou hast said to me.
And bear it to the chapel.
Thy loving father, Hamlet.
I will not speak with her.
And his sandal shoon.
At his heels a stone.
To be your Valentine.
Alack, what noise is this?
I pray you, give me leave.
Repast them with my blood.
That I might be the organ.
Come short of what he did.
And gem of all the nation.
He made confession of you;
What out of this, my lord?
Alas, then she is drown'd?
2 Clown. Why, he had none.
1 Clown. For none neither.
I'll rant as well as thou.
Not shriving-time allow'd.
My lord, I'll hit him now.
Polonius, Lord Chamberlain.
The bell then beating one,—
For God's love let me hear.
My lord, from head to foot.
What, look'd he frowningly?
His beard was grizzled,—no?
And recks not his own read.
I think it lacks of twelve.
Be rul'd; you shall not go.
More matter, with less art.
As low as to the fiends!
And passion in the gods.
To hear and see the matter.
Bid the players make haste.
The tedious day with sleep.
It is backed like a weasel.
Is thought-sick at the act.
He will stay till you come.
Give, me superfluous death.
What is the cause, Laertes,
My will, not all the world:
All flaxen was his poll:
And we cast away moan:
You mainly were stirr'd up.
O, for two special reasons;
What part is that, my lord?
Our purpose may hold there.
Must there no more be done?
Rough-hew them how we will.
The effect of what I wrote?
Give us the foils; come on.
A hit, a very palpable hit.
Come, let me wipe thy face.
What warlike noise is this?
On plots and errors happen.
Go, bid the soldiers shoot.
O, farewell, honest soldier;
Who is't that can inform me?
And vanish'd from our sight.
Hold you the watch to-night?
And fix'd his eyes upon you?
Perchance 'twill walk again.
There's no offence, my lord.
What is't, my lord? we will.
Drabbing:—you may go so far.
Marry, sir, here's my drift;
Pleasant and helpful to him!
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
But keep a farm and carters.
What is the matter, my lord?
What should we say, my lord?
Well be with you, gentlemen!
What follows, then, my lord?
Nay, do not think I flatter;
How fares our cousin Hamlet?
O, but she'll keep her word.
The hart ungalled play;
Pray you, be round with him.
In noise so rude against me?
How now! what hath befall'n?
What dost thou mean by this?
Against some part of Poland.
With true-love showers.
You promis'd me to wed.
How long hath she been thus?
How now! What noise is that?
He never will come again.
He is gone, he is gone,
It well appears:—but tell me
Requite him for your father.
Let's further think of this;
2 Clown. Why, 'tis found so.
2 Clown. Was he a gentleman?
What call you the carriages?
Look to the queen there, ho!
Here's yet some liquor left.
Fortinbras, Prince of Norway.
What we two nights have seen.
What does this mean, my lord?
Why, what should be the fear?
Nay, come, let's go together.
Wherefore should you do this?
As fits a king's remembrance.
This business is well ended.—
Came this from Hamlet to her?
How does my good Lord Hamlet?
Sweet Gertrude, leave us too;
I pray you, now receive them.
I have in quick determination
Your wisdom best shall think.
So runs the world away.—
Methinks it is like a weasel.
And break your own neck down.
Scene IV. A plain in Denmark.
Say you? nay, pray you, mark.
He is dead and gone, lady,
Most throughly for my father.
God ha' mercy on his soul!
Laertes, you shall hear them.
But that this folly douts it.
2 Clown. Mass, I cannot tell.
For love of God, forbear him!
My head should be struck off.
Part them; they are incens'd.
She swoons to see them bleed.
Reynaldo, Servant to Polonius.
Ophelia, Daughter to Polonius.
Tush, tush, 'twill not appear.
My lord, the king your father.
These hands are not more like.
It would have much amaz'd you.
To his unmaster'd importunity.
Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.
God b' wi' you, fare you well.
With what, i' the name of God?
What treasure had he, my lord?
Old grandsire Priam seeks.'
Scene I. A room in the Castle.
This night to play before him.
Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
I mean, my head upon your lap?
Madam, how like you this play?
This realm dismantled was
My lord, you once did love me.
As will not leave their tinct.
A king of shreds and patches!—
Do not forget. This visitation
This bodiless creation ecstasy
This man shall set me packing:
I understand you not, my lord.
Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?
How purpos'd, sir, I pray you?
Yes, it is already garrison'd.
Will't please you go, my lord?
Her mood will needs be pitied.
Alack, and fie for shame!
They shall go far with little.
And will he not come again?
Letters, my lord, from Hamlet:
From Hamlet! Who brought them?
For such a guest is meet.
What man dost thou dig it for?
Sweets to the sweet: farewell.
His silence will sit drooping.
I know, you are not ignorant,—
Why does the drum come hither?
'Tis gone, and will not answer.
Horatio,—or I do forget myself.
Look with what courteous action
Scene II. A room in the Castle.
A dream itself is but a shadow.
O, help him, you sweet heavens!
O heavenly powers, restore him!
Scene II. A hall in the Castle.
And my imaginations are as foul
For us, and for our tragedy,
Directly seasons him his enemy.
You are a good chorus, my lord.
What, frighted with false fire!
Let me be cruel, not unnatural;
Which now goes too free-footed.
Now, mother, what's the matter?
Among a mineral of metals base,
By his cockle bat and' staff
And I a maid at your window,
By Gis and by Saint Charity,
That I must call't in question.
And not where I had aim'd them.
2 Clown. Marry, now I can tell.
For and a shrouding sheet;
And not have strew'd thy grave.
Shall I re-deliver you e'en so?
A touch, a touch, I do confess.
He's fat, and scant of breath.—
Of these dilated articles allow.
What wouldst thou have, Laertes?
As infinite as man may undergo,—
Yea, from the table of my memory
We have sworn, my lord, already.
To put an antic disposition on,—
That he is open to incontinency;
It seems it as proper to our age
Upon the talk of the poisoning?—
No, my lord; rather with choler.
I know, no touch of it, my lord.
Scene III. A room in the Castle.
Nay, I know not: is it the king?
What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet?
All in the morning bedtime,
By cock, they are to blame.
This nothing's more than matter.
To cut his throat i' the church.
That to Laertes I forgot myself;
Laertes before you fall to play.
Come.—Another hit; what say you?
Where should we have our thanks?
To the inheritance of Fortinbras,
To offer it the show of violence;
Cornelius, Lords, and Attendant.]
And with no less nobility of love
Season your admiration for awhile
Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe,
It is a nipping and an eager air.
Being a thing immortal as itself?
Why, right; you are i' the right;
This is the very ecstasy of love;
phrase: but you shall hear. Thus:
'Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Away, I do beseech you, both away
How comes it? do they grow rusty?
My lord, I have news to tell you.
Then came each actor on his ass,—
And pious action we do sugar o'er
Will you two help to hasten them?
We beg your hearing patiently.
If, once a widow, ever I be wife!
A station like the herald Mercury
A combination and a form, indeed,
I must be cruel, only to be kind:
I must to England; you know that?
Good sir, whose powers are these?
And dupp'd the chamber door,
Hey no nonny, nonny, hey nonny
Methought it was very sweet;
As if I had never been such.
Absent thee from felicity awhile,
Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy,
Such was the very armour he had on
Well ratified by law and heraldry,
Of unimproved mettle hot and full,
If it be so,—as so 'tis put on me,
It beckons you to go away with it,
Is by a forged process of my death
My custom always of the afternoon,
Adieu, adieu! Hamlet, remember me.
It is 'Adieu, adieu! remember me:'
My lord, that would dishonour him.
A savageness in unreclaimed blood,
As oft as any passion under heaven
I did repel his letters and denied
I hold my duty, as I hold my soul,
The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Be you and I behind an arras then;
With variable objects, shall expel
Here, sweet lord, at your service.
Here stooping to your clemency,
In neither aught, or in extremity.
Most necessary 'tis that we forget
Most holy and religious fear it is
If it be made of penetrable stuff;
Take you me for a sponge, my lord?
That capability and godlike reason
Exposing what is mortal and unsure
At his head a grass green turf,
His beard was as white as snow,
If by direct or by collateral hand
To him from whom you brought them.
And so have I a noble father lost;
'Tis Hamlet's character:—'Naked!'—
To exploit, now ripe in my device,
A very riband in the cap of youth,
Here was a gentleman of Normandy,—
Hath claw'd me in his clutch,
A pickaxe and a spade, a spade,
O, a pit of clay for to be made
I do not lie in't, yet it is mine.
1 Clown. Very strangely, they say.
'Swounds, show me what thou'lt do:
But I am very sorry, good Horatio,
For by the image of my cause I see
You will lose this wager, my lord.
But let it be.—Horatio, I am dead;
That, if again this apparition come
I think it be no other but e'en so:
Unto our climature and countrymen.—
This present object made probation.
To show my duty in your coronation;
By laboursome petition; and at last
Passing through nature to eternity.
In filial obligation, for some term
Than I to Hercules: within a month;
A truant disposition, good my lord.
I would not hear your enemy say so;
He may not, as unvalu'd persons do,
Neither a borrower nor a lender be:
So oft it chances in particular men
As if it some impartment did desire
But this eternal blazon must not be
Will sate itself in a celestial bed
Unhous'led, disappointed, unanel'd;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
And what so poor a man as Hamlet is
Videlicet, a brothel,—or so forth.—
He falls to such perusal of my face
My liege, and madam,—to expostulate
Madam, I swear I use no art at all.
Let me be no assistant for a state,
'One fair daughter, and no more,
Blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me,
Purpose is but the slave to memory;
The violence of either grief or joy
But, orderly to end where I begun,—
Thy natural magic and dire property
To keep those many many bodies safe
Behind the arras I'll convey myself
A brother's murder!—Pray can I not,
He likewise gives a frock or livery
I had forgot: 'tis so concluded on.
Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord.
How should I your true love know
Larded all with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did go
Let in the maid, that out a maid
The ocean, overpeering of his list,
Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
If you desire to know the certainty
Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
To you in satisfaction; but if not,
And gave you such a masterly report
Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy
For goodness, growing to a plurisy,
Ay, my lord, And of calf-skins too.
O royal knavery! an exact command,—
Does by their own insinuation grow:
I commend my duty to your lordship.
His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.
To the ambassadors of England gives
That thou so many princes at a shot
Therefore I have entreated him along
Without the sensible and true avouch
And prologue to the omen coming on,—
We do it wrong, being so majestical,
For it is, as the air, invulnerable,
Upon a fearful summons. I have heard
It faded on the crowing of the cock.
To be contracted in one brow of woe;
Do not for ever with thy vailed lids
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
In obstinate condolement is a course
It is most retrograde to our desire:
Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply:
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
As if increase of appetite had grown
But what is your affair in Elsinore?
My father,—methinks I see my father.
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
In dreadful secrecy impart they did;
The chariest maid is prodigal enough
A double blessing is a double grace;
Occasion smiles upon a second leave.
And these few precepts in thy memory
Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well
And with a larger tether may he walk
Be thy intents wicked or charitable,
So horridly to shake our disposition
I do not set my life at a pin's fee;
That looks so many fadoms to the sea
He waxes desperate with imagination.
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
My tables,—meet it is I set it down,
I'm sorry they offend you, heartily;
Scene I. A room in Polonius's house.
I saw him yesterday, or t'other day,
By indirections find directions out:
So, by my former lecture and advice,
Observe his inclination in yourself.
How now, Ophelia! what's the matter?
As if he had been loosed out of hell
As it is common for the younger sort
And I beseech you instantly to visit
As of a man faithful and honourable.
Excellent well; you're a fishmonger.
Happy in that we are not over-happy;
The actors are come hither, my lord.
The which he loved passing well.'
Am I not i' the right, old Jephthah?
That's good! 'Mobled queen' is good.
The very faculties of eyes and ears.
And fall a-cursing like a very drab,
With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?
And gather by him, as he is behav'd,
That makes calamity of so long life;
Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord.
In second husband let me be accurst!
A second time I kill my husband dead
Of violent birth, but poor validity:
You are keen, my lord, you are keen.
On wholesome life usurp immediately.
For thou dost know, O Damon dear,
You go not till I set you up a glass
My father, in his habit as he liv'd!
O, throw away the worser part of it,
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
No, in despite of sense and secrecy,
Unpeg the basket on the house's top,
As level as the cannon to his blank,
By desperate appliance are reliev'd,
By letters conjuring to that effect,
Led by a delicate and tender prince;
Makes mouths at the invisible event;
She is importunate; indeed distract:
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
Would have reverted to my bow again,
The rather if you could devise it so
And for your rapier most especially,
And set a double varnish on the fame
I bought an unction of a mountebank,
Or like a creature native and indu'd
But age, with his stealing steps,
Until my eyelids will no longer wag.
Anon, as patient as the female dove,
Let Hercules himself do what he may,
That's two of his weapons:—but well.
The carriages, sir, are the hangers.
I am afeard you make a wanton of me.
The drink, the drink!—I am poison'd.
It is a poison temper'd by himself.—
O good Horatio, what a wounded name,
If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
Against the which, a moiety competent
And carriage of the article design'd,
For food and diet, to some enterprise
But to recover of us, by strong hand,
Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life
And our vain blows malicious mockery.
Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,
Holding a weak supposal of our worth,
Why seems it so particular with thee?
And we beseech you bend you to remain
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
To make it truster of your own report
I saw him once; he was a goodly king.
I shall not look upon his like again.
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
It lifted up it head, and did address
Very like, very like. Stay'd it long?
Your loves, as mine to you: farewell.
As he in his particular act and place
Out of the shot and danger of desire.
If she unmask her beauty to the moon:
'Tis told me he hath very oft of late
But mere implorators of unholy suits,
This heavy-headed revel east and west
The pith and marrow of our attribute.
By the o'ergrowth of some complexion,
Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd,
Without more motive, into every brain
As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.—
I say, away!—Go on; I'll follow thee.
The leperous distilment; whose effect
With all my imperfections on my head:
A couch for luxury and damned incest.
Hillo, ho, ho, boy! Come, bird, come.
Or such ambiguous giving out, to note
Before You visit him, to make inquiry
And with a look so piteous in purport
I cannot dream of: I entreat you both
That, open'd, lies within our remedy.
Hunts not the trail of policy so sure
I doubt it is no other but the main,—
Makes vow before his uncle never more
Answer, and think upon this business.
What majesty should be, what duty is,
Who, in her duty and obedience, mark,
And more above, hath his solicitings,
If circumstances lead me, I will find
Have by the very cunning of the scene
And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
And thus the native hue of resolution
I humbly thank you; well, well, well.
My lord, I have remembrances of yours
As e'er my conversation cop'd withal.
Do not itself unkennel in one speech,
Do you think I meant country matters?
Will he tell us what this show meant?
Unite commutual in most sacred bands.
So many journeys may the sun and moon
When second husband kisses me in bed.
The lady protests too much, methinks.
How in my words somever she be shent,
Hazard so near us as doth hourly grow
That live and feed upon your majesty.
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
Scene IV. Another room in the castle.
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill:
To give the world assurance of a man;
In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,
That you do bend your eye on vacancy,
That I essentially am not in madness,
To you yourself, to us, to every one.
Scene II. Another room in the Castle.
We shall express our duty in his eye;
The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras.
Truly to speak, and with no addition,
Looking before and after, gave us not
So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day
And am most sensibly in grief for it,
Scene VI. Another room in the Castle.
So crimeful and so capital in nature,
Why to a public count I might not go,
For art and exercise in your defence,
Laertes, was your father dear to you?
And that I see, in passages of proof,
As one incapable of her own distress,
And hath shipp'd me into the land,
Is not parchment made of sheep-skins?
Yet have I in me something dangerous,
You do remember all the circumstance?
I had my father's signet in my purse,
To let this canker of our nature come
I thank your lordship, t'is very hot.
But pardon't, as you are a gentleman.
If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away,
I have a voice and precedent of peace
The trumpet to the cannoneer without,
And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.
But I do prophesy the election lights
On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice;
Of carnal, bloody and unnatural acts;
And, in this upshot, purposes mistook
And call the noblest to the audience.
In which the majesty of buried Denmark
When he the ambitious Norway combated;
If there be any good thing to be done,
Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid,
Shall I strike at it with my partisan?
The extravagant and erring spirit hies
Importing the surrender of those lands
To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,—
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son—
Seek for thy noble father in the dust:
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
A heart unfortified, a mind impatient;
As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
This unprevailing woe; and think of us
In going back to school in Wittenberg,
Be as ourself in Denmark.—Madam, come;
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
It is not, nor it cannot come to good;
Nor shall you do my ear that violence,
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!—
He was a man, take him for all in all,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch
It was, as I have seen it in his life,
If it assume my noble father's person,
Scene III. A room in Polonius's house.
My necessaries are embark'd: farewell:
And, sister, as the winds give benefit
And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood:
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
For the apparel oft proclaims the man;
Set your entreatments at a higher rate
Have you so slander any moment leisure
And to the manner born,—it is a custom
It waves you to a more removed ground:
Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff
As meditation or the thoughts of love,
So to seduce!—won to his shameful lust
But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,
And in the porches of my ears did pour
Holds such an enmity with blood of man
But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act,
But bear me stiffly up.—Remember thee!
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
That ever I was born to set it right!—
But if't be he I mean, he's very wild;
As are companions noted and most known
And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,
At last,—a little shaking of mine arm,
As it did seem to shatter all his bulk
Whose violent property fordoes itself,
Some little time: so by your companies
As to expend your time with us awhile,
For the supply and profit of our hope,
Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,
Fell into a sadness; then into a fast;
Into the madness wherein now he raves,
That I have positively said ''Tis so,'
Then I would you were so honest a man.
Will you walk out of the air, my lord?
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,
Upon whose property and most dear life
But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall
To make oppression bitter; or ere this
Out of my weakness and my melancholy,—
When he himself might his quietus make
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
That I have longed long to re-deliver.
It shall do well: but yet do I believe
And the queen too, and that presently.
Even with the very comment of thy soul
But what we do determine oft we break.
But fall unshaken when they mellow be.
Our wills and fates do so contrary run
That our devices still are overthrown;
To desperation turn my trust and hope!
Why, let the strucken deer go weep,
And do such bitter business as the day
The terms of our estate may not endure
The single and peculiar life is bound,
But to confront the visage of offence?
To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
At gaming, swearing; or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in't;—
If damned custom have not braz'd it so
As from the body of contraction plucks
Or but a sickly part of one true sense
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,
Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg,
Of habits evil, is angel yet in this,—
And that shall lend a kind of easiness
Make you to ravel all this matter out,
For 'tis the sport to have the enginer
His liberty is full of threats to all;
But, like the owner of a foul disease,
To keep it from divulging, let it feed
To draw apart the body he hath kill'd:
We must with all our majesty and skill
Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain,
My soul is full of discord and dismay.
Scene III. Another room in the Castle.
This sudden sending him away must seem
We go to gain a little patch of ground
How all occasions do inform against me
Is not to stir without great argument,
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
Excitements of my reason and my blood,
That, for a fantasy and trick of fame,
Which is not tomb enough and continent
So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.
Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd,
Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
The ratifiers and props of every word,
'Laertes shall be king! Laertes king!'
They bore him barefac'd on the bier
She turns to favour and to prettiness.
No noble rite nor formal ostentation,—
Scene VII. Another room in the Castle.
A sister driven into desperate terms,—
It warms the very sickness in my heart
But that I know love is begun by time,
And hath abatements and delays as many
So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
The woman will be out.—Adieu, my lord:
How much I had to do to calm his rage!
1 Clown. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.
In youth when I did love, did love,
To sing a requiem and such rest to her
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
A ministering angel shall my sister be
I lov'd you ever: but it is no matter;
An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;
My fears forgetting manners, to unseal
An earnest conjuration from the king,—
As England was his faithful tributary;
Why, even in that was heaven ordinant.
It will be short: the interim is mine;
This is too heavy, let me see another.
I will, my lord; I pray you pardon me.
O villany!—Ho! let the door be lock'd:
High on a stage be placed to the view;
For he was likely, had he been put on,
You come most carefully upon your hour.
And let us once again assail your ears,
And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
Before my God, I might not this believe
And foreign mart for implements of war;
Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes,
As it doth well appear unto our state,—
Is the main motive of our preparations,
A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,
To his confine: and of the truth herein
Together with remembrance of ourselves.
Giving to you no further personal power
We doubt it nothing: heartily farewell.
You cannot speak of reason to the Dane,
Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent:
I do beseech you, give him leave to go.
Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,
Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage,
An understanding simple and unschool'd;
Do I impart toward you. For your intent
I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.
So excellent a king; that was, to this,
Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.
My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
With an attent ear, till I may deliver,
O, yes, my lord: he wore his beaver up.
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
The perfume and suppliance of a minute;
The inward service of the mind and soul
For he himself is subject to his birth:
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
Be wary then; best safety lies in fear:
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.
Than may be given you: in few, Ophelia,
Since nature cannot choose his origin,—
King, father, royal Dane; O, answer me!
Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws
And draw you into madness? think of it:
To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:
Murder most foul, as in the best it is;
O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!
From me, whose love was of that dignity
With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,
And with a sudden vigour it doth posset
And a most instant tetter bark'd about,
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire:
Within the book and volume of my brain,
For every man hath business and desire,
And lay your hands again upon my sword:
The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind;
And I believe it is a fetch of warrant:
He closes with you in this consequence;
According to the phrase or the addition
My lord, as I was sewing in my chamber,
As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so;
The need we have to use you did provoke
So much as from occasion you may glean,
To show us so much gentry and good-will
To lay our service freely at your feet,
Both to my God and to my gracious king:
Upon our first, he sent out to suppress
To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack;
But, better look'd into, he truly found
With an entreaty, herein further shown,
On such regards of safety and allowance
I will be brief:—your noble son is mad:
But farewell it, for I will use no art.
If I had play'd the desk or table-book,
Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.
Mark the encounter: if he love her not,
Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both?
it is not so:— it begins with Pyrrhus:—
O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
And can say nothing; no, not for a king
Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds
But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof
And there did seem in him a kind of joy
Her father and myself,—lawful espials,—
Will bring him to his wonted way again,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
The insolence of office, and the spurns
No traveller returns,—puzzles the will,
Than fly to others that we know not of?
The fair Ophelia!—Nymph, in thy orisons
Take these again; for to the noble mind
But if you hold it fit, after the play,
It is a damned ghost that we have seen;
For I mine eyes will rivet to his face;
Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and others.]
Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.
And as my love is siz'd, my fear is so:
The instances that second marriage move
And hitherto doth love on fortune tend:
Of Jove himself; and now reigns here
For if the king like not the comedy,
The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom:
And he to England shall along with you:
The lives of many. The cease of majesty
For we will fetters put upon this fear,
Though inclination be as sharp as will:
In the corrupted currents of this world
Yet what can it when one cannot repent?
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
To take him in the purging of his soul,
O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!
The very soul, and sweet religion makes
But it reserv'd some quantity of choice
This is the very coinage of your brain:
For in the fatness of these pursy times
And live the purer with the other half.
That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night;
And when you are desirous to be bles'd,
I will bestow him, and will answer well
To try conclusions, in the basket creep
And marshal me to knavery. Let it work;
Bestow this place on us a little while.
It will be laid to us, whose providence
He's lov'd of the distracted multitude,
Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve
So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes.
Away! for everything is seal'd and done
That hath in it no profit but the name.
Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
Like a good child and a true gentleman.
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!—
What are they that would speak with me?
Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?
As how should it be so? how otherwise?—
So you will not o'errule me to a peace.
One woe doth tread upon another's heel,
There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd
Like wonder-wounded hearers? this is I,
Woul't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile?
To mine own room again: making so bold,
They had begun the play,—I sat me down;
I once did hold it, as our statists do,
And stand a comma 'tween their amities;
Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil
I do not fear it; I have seen you both;
If Hamlet give the first or second hit,
And in the cup an union shall he throw,
I dare not drink yet, madam; by-and-by.
And will not let belief take hold of him
He may approve our eyes and speak to it.
That are so fortified against our story,
Together with that fair and warlike form
Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee speak!
Is not this something more than fantasy?
He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice.
Whose image even but now appear'd to us,
As harbingers preceding still the fates,
If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,
If thou art privy to thy country's fate,
And then it started, like a guilty thing
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
Break we our watch up: and by my advice,
Let us impart what we have seen to-night
That we with wisest sorrow think on him,
Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,—
With an auspicious and one dropping eye,
Taken to wife; nor have we herein barr'd
Out of his subject:—and we here dispatch
You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Let it be tenable in your silence still;
Give it an understanding, but no tongue:
And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch
Unto the voice and yielding of that body
It fits your wisdom so far to believe it
Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.
What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you?
My lord, he hath importun'd me with love
With almost all the holy vows of heaven.
The better to beguile. This is for all,—
Look to't, I charge you; come your ways.
The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.
But to my mind,—though I am native here,
Soil our addition; and, indeed, it takes
Doth all the noble substance often doubt
Thou com'st in such a questionable shape
And for my soul, what can it do to that,
It waves me forth again;—I'll follow it.
That beetles o'er his base into the sea,
The very place puts toys of desperation,
And makes each petty artery in this body
And each particular hair to stand on end
If thou didst ever thy dear father love—
That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,
O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
The glowworm shows the matin to be near,
In this distracted globe. Remember thee!
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
That youth and observation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Such as it is;—and for my own poor part,
With all my love I do commend me to you:
As may dishonour him; take heed of that;
You must not put another scandal on him,
At—closes in the consequence'—ay, marry!
'I saw him enter such a house of sale,'—
With windlaces, and with assays of bias,
Ungart'red, and down-gyved to his ankle;
To speak of horrors,—he comes before me.
He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound
To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions
As it hath us'd to do,—that I have found
That so his sickness, age, and impotence
So levied as before, against the Polack:
Or rather say, the cause of this defect,
Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.
As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that,
And he, repulsed,—a short tale to make,—
Which was declining on the milky head
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Make mad the guilty, and appal the free;
A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
They have proclaim'd their malefactions;
As he is very potent with such spirits,—
Grating so harshly all his days of quiet
To hear of it: they are about the court,
And, as I think, they have already order
Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,
That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
We may of their encounter frankly judge;
If't be the affliction of his love or no
That show of such an exercise may colour
Than is my deed to my most painted word:
Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
O'er which his melancholy sits on brood;
For the demand of our neglected tribute:
Haply the seas, and countries different,
The origin and commencement of his grief
A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards
But, woe is me, you are so sick of late,
Honour'd, belov'd, and haply one as kind
What to ourselves in passion we propose,
An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope!
Each small annexment, petty consequence,
Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,—
Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above;
A villain kills my father; and for that,
O, this is hire and salary, not revenge.
When he is drunk asleep; or in his rage;
You cannot call it love; for at your age
Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err;
Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings;
Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
But, look, amazement on thy mother sits:
Start up and stand an end. O gentle son,
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
My stern effects: then what I have to do
That to the use of actions fair and good
Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,
Who was in life a foolish peating knave.
Behind the arras hearing something stir,
And in this brainish apprehension, kills
Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,
And hit the woundless air.—O, come away!
The bark is ready, and the wind at help,
After the Danish sword, and thy free awe
If that his majesty would aught with us,
Goes it against the main of Poland, sir,
A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.
And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
If his chief good and market of his time
To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on the event,—
Scene V. Elsinore. A room in the Castle.
Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
And, as the world were now but to begin,
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?—
There's such divinity doth hedge a king,
And on his grave rain'd many a tear.—
Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
His means of death, his obscure burial,—
Stood challenger on mount of all the age
This to your majesty; this to the queen.
No more to undertake it,—I will work him
And for his death no wind shall breathe;
As did that one; and that, in my regard,
That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks,
I know him well: he is the brooch indeed
Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
And nothing is at a like goodness still;
When down her weedy trophies and herself
And therefore I forbid my tears: but yet
Ay, marry, why was be sent into England?
Fordo it own life: 'twas of some estate.
To o'ertop old Pelion or the skyish head
I lov'd Ophelia; forty thousand brothers
I'll do't.—Dost thou come here to whine?
To outface me with leaping in her grave?
Be buried quick with her, and so will I:
What is the reason that you use me thus?
This grave shall have a living monument:
Till then in patience our proceeding be.
There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
No, not to stay the grinding of the axe,
But wilt thou bear me how I did proceed?
Or I could make a prologue to my brains,
Devis'd a new commission; wrote it fair:
Which was the model of that Danish seal:
So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't.
Thrown out his angle for my proper life,
What is the issue of the business there.
It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.
How I am punish'd with sore distraction.
That I have shot my arrow o'er the house
To my revenge. But in my terms of honour
I stand aloof; and will no reconcilement
Or quit in answer of the third exchange,
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
I pray you pass with your best violence:
Unbated and envenom'd: the foul practice
I am more an antique Roman than a Dane.—
If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,
To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd
Had it the ability of life to thank you:
Bear Hamlet like a soldier to the stage;
The soldiers' music and the rites of war
Take up the bodies.—Such a sight as this
Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,
Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.
So nightly toils the subject of the land;
And why such daily cast of brazen cannon,
Does not divide the Sunday from the week;
Was gaged by our king; which had return'd
In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star,
Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse:
Awake the god of day; and at his warning,
Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears
Of this his nephew's purpose,—to suppress
The head is not more native to the heart,
Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off,
To do obsequious sorrow: but to persevere
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven;
Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
To reason most absurd; whose common theme
You are the most immediate to our throne;
Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet
Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
I prithee do not mock me, fellow-student.
In the dead vast and middle of the night,
Appears before them and with solemn march
The apparition comes: I knew your father;
Itself to motion, like as it would speak:
But even then the morning cock crew loud,
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
And we did think it writ down in our duty
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
For nature, crescent, does not grow alone
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
And it must follow, as the night the day,
You do not understand yourself so clearly
Believe so much in him, that he is young;
Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.
The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,
Angels and ministers of grace defend us!—
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
It will not speak; then will I follow it.
And there assume some other horrible form
Still am I call'd;—unhand me, gentlemen;—
Have after.—To what issue will this come?
Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
I made to her in marriage; and to decline
The natural gates and alleys of the body;
And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word;
And so, without more circumstance at all,
How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself,—
The time is out of joint:—O cursed spite,
Addicted so and so;' and there put on him
That they may seem the taints of liberty;
You laying these slight sullies on my son
Alas, my lord, I have been so affrighted!
And to the last bended their light on me.
Of Hamlet's transformation; so I call it,
Since nor the exterior nor the inward man
Resembles that it was. What it should be,
Your visitation shall receive such thanks
My too-much-changed son.—Go, some of you,
O, speak of that; that do I long to hear.
Give first admittance to the ambassadors;
On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys;
What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
For this effect defective comes by cause:
And my young mistress thus I did bespeak:
And he not from his reason fall'n thereon
As the indifferent children of the earth.
To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.
Repugnant to command: unequal match'd,
In general synod, take away her power;
Had he the motive and the cue for passion
Confound the ignorant, and amaze, indeed,
I should have fatted all the region kites
That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,
Been struck so to the soul that presently
And can you, by no drift of circumstance,
Nor do we find him forward to be sounded,
But with much forcing of his disposition.
Niggard of question; but, of our demands,
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die,—to sleep;—
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
How does your honour for this many a day?
And I, of ladies most deject and wretched
And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose
To England send him; or confine him where
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee
There is a play to-night before the king;
Observe mine uncle: if his occulted guilt
Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must:
For women's fear and love holds quantity;
For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,
And who in want a hollow friend doth try,
So think thou wilt no second husband wed;
Each opposite that blanks the face of joy
This is one Lucianus, nephew to the King.
'Tis now the very witching time of night,
Dies not alone; but like a gulf doth draw
Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount,
And, as you said, and wisely was it said,
And, like a man to double business bound,
And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
Try what repentance can: what can it not?
O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
Now might I do it pat, now he is praying;
He took my father grossly, full of bread;
Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed;
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.
Fear me not:—withdraw; I hear him coming.
Mother, you have my father much offended.
Where you may see the inmost part of you.
As false as dicers' oaths: O, such a deed
See what a grace was seated on this brow;
Where every god did seem to set his seal,
If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
Since frost itself as actively doth burn,
Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul;
Lest with this piteous action you convert
To punish me with this, and this with me,
Not this, by no means, that I bid you do:
And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses,
Which is the mightier: in his lawless fit
O'er whom his very madness, like some ore
And let them know both what we mean to do
Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord,
Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red
For like the hectic in my blood he rages,
Tell him that, by his license, Fortinbras
Craves the conveyance of a promis'd march
The imminent death of twenty thousand men
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,
Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
White his shroud as the mountain snow,
Young men will do't if they come to't;
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering piece, in many places
I dare damnation:—to this point I stand,—
It shall as level to your judgment pierce
Should be as mortal as an old man's life?
It sends some precious instance of itself
I do not know from what part of the world
She's so conjunctive to my life and soul,
I could not but by her. The other motive,
Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind,
I lov'd your father, and we love ourself;
Did not together pluck such envy from him
As had he been incorps'd and demi-natur'd
That he could nothing do but wish and beg
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
There lives within the very flame of love
When in your motion you are hot and dry,—
It is our trick; nature her custom holds,
Now fear I this will give it start again;
O, methought there was nothing meet.
Yet here she is allowed her virgin rites,
We should profane the service of the dead
Fall ten times treble on that cursed head
For, though I am not splenetive and rash,
Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
Our indiscretion sometime serves us well,
My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark
Grop'd I to find out them: had my desire;
That, on the supervise, no leisure bated,
And many such-like as's of great charge,—
Without debatement further, more or less,
Between the pass and fell incensed points
Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd;
I do receive your offer'd love like love,
Hath turn'd itself on me; lo, here I lie,
O, yet defend me, friends! I am but hurt.
Drink off this potion.—Is thy union here?
For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune:
Of that I shall have also cause to speak,
But let this same be presently perform'd,
Welcome, Horatio:—Welcome, good Marcellus.
But, in the gross and scope of my opinion,
Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
Of this post-haste and romage in the land.
That may to thee do ease, and, race to me,
It was about to speak, when the cock crew.
The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?
Where we shall find him most conveniently.
In equal scale weighing delight and dole,—
Our state to be disjoint and out of frame,
Lost by his father, with all bonds of law,
Your leave and favour to return to France;
And thy best graces spend it at thy will!—
Not so, my lord; I am too much i' the sun.
'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
But I have that within which passeth show;
For what we know must be, and is as common
Like Niobe, all tears;—why she, even she,—
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
I think it was to see my mother's wedding.
As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true;
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
The virtue of his will: but you must fear,
The safety and health of this whole state;
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister;
The canker galls the infants of the spring
Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd:
I stay too long:—but here my father comes.
For loan oft loses both itself and friend;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all,—to thine own self be true;
Farewell: my blessing season this in thee!
And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
What is between you? give me up the truth.
Wronging it thus,—you'll tender me a fool.
Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.
Even in their promise, as it is a-making,—
You must not take for fire. From this time
Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,
Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds,
Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,—
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,
To cast thee up again! What may this mean,
Scene V. A more remote part of the Castle.
When I to sulph'uous and tormenting flames
And for the day confin'd to wastein fires,
Rankly abus'd; but know, thou noble youth,
So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,
Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand,
Never to speak of this that you have seen,
Here, as before, never, so help you mercy,
Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,
Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes
He took me by the wrist, and held me hard;
Then goes he to the length of all his arm;
Come, go with me: I will go seek the king.
No, my good lord; but, as you did command,
Moreover that we much did long to see you,
So much from the understanding of himself,
And sure I am two men there are not living
Put your dread pleasures more into command
And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.
Th' ambassadors from Norway, my good lord,
And I do think,—or else this brain of mine
He tells me, my sweet queen, he hath found
Most fair return of greetings and desires.
His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd
Receives rebuke from Norway; and, in fine,
Mad call I it; for to define true madness,
And pity 'tis 'tis true: a foolish figure;
Mad let us grant him then: and now remains
That we find out the cause of this effect;
'In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.'
Or my dear majesty your queen here, think,
Or look'd upon this love with idle sight;—
Thence to a watch; thence into a weakness;
Take this from this, if this be otherwise:
I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.
With heraldry more dismal; head to foot
Now is he total gules; horridly trick'd
And thus o'ersized with coagulate gore,
So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood;
A roused vengeance sets him new a-work;
And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
Is it not monstrous that this player here,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit
Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,
That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,
Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;
May be the devil: and the devil hath power
Madam, it so fell out that certain players
That your good beauties be the happy cause
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
That flesh is heir to,—'tis a consummation
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
And lose the name of action.—Soft you now!
The expectancy and rose of the fair state,
Love! his affections do not that way tend;
Will be some danger: which for to prevent,
Let his queen mother all alone entreat him
For what advancement may I hope from thee,
And could of men distinguish, her election
As I do thee.—Something too much of this.—
As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note;
And scape detecting, I will pay the theft.
Ay, my lord; they stay upon your patience.
Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?
And thirty dozen moons with borrow'd sheen
Make us again count o'er ere love be done!
I do believe you think what now you speak;
The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
And never come mischance between us twain!
By the mass, and 'tis like a camel indeed.
O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever
I will speak daggers to her, but use none;
My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites,—
I like him not; nor stands it safe with us
I your commission will forthwith dispatch,
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
I, his sole son, do this same villain send
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays:
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
A bloody deed!—almost as bad, good mother,
As kill a king and marry with his brother.
That blurs the grace and blush of modesty;
Calls virtue hypocrite; takes off the rose
With tristful visage, as against the doom,
Look here upon this picture, and on this,—
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
Here is your husband, like a milldew'd ear
Nor sense to ecstacy was ne'er so thrall'd
Save me and hover o'er me with your wings,
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
That I have utter'd: bring me to the test,
Whilst rank corruption, mining all within,
Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
That I must be their scourge and minister.
Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed;
Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend
It had been so with us, had we been there:
We would not understand what was most fit;
Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin.
Yet must not we put the strong law on him:
Deliberate pause: diseases desperate grown
Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun.
Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous.
Why, then the Polack never will defend it.
Why the man dies.—I humbly thank you, sir.
And ever three parts coward,—I do not know
Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd,
Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great
The hearers to collection; they aim at it,
Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
Then up he rose and donn'd his clothes,
Last, and as much containing as all these,
Her brother is in secret come from France;
O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!
Acts little of his will.—Tell me, Laertes,
Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd
And, like the kind life-rendering pelican,
And we shall jointly labour with your soul
That he which hath your noble father slain
Why you proceeded not against these feats,
Whose worth, if praises may go back again,
That we are made of stuff so flat and dull
And in a postscript here, he says 'alone.'
To thine own peace. If he be now return'd—
Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes
Than settled age his sables and his weeds,
Your sudden coming o'er, to play with him.
To show yourself your father's son in deed
And wager on your heads: he, being remiss,
Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
And for that purpose I'll anoint my sword.
Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare,
If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,
There with fantastic garlands did she come
Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,
1 Clown. Faith, e'en with losing his wits.
Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
Why, I will fight with him upon this theme
Make up my sum.—What wilt thou do for her?
And thus a while the fit will work on him;
I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him.—
We'll put the matter to the present push.—
Larded with many several sorts of reasons,
Being thus benetted round with villanies,—
How to forget that learning; but, sir, now
It did me yeoman's service. Wilt thou know
He should the bearers put to sudden death,
'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes
Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it.
Till by some elder masters of known honour
The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.
No medicine in the world can do thee good;
In thee there is not half an hour of life;
The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,
Thou liv'st; report me and my cause aright
Which have solicited.—the rest is silence.
This quarry cries on havoc.—O proud death,
He never gave commandment for their death.
Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.
With us to watch the minutes of this night;
So frown'd he once when, in an angry parle,
Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride,
Which he stood seiz'd of, to the conqueror:
So by his father lost: and this, I take it,
That was and is the question of these wars.
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets;
Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
The bird of dawning singeth all night long;
So have I heard, and do in part believe it.
But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him:
Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know
Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
With this affair along:—or all, our thanks.
For bearers of this greeting to old Norway;
And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?
That shall not be my offer, not thy asking?
Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine,
Seems, madam! Nay, it is; I know not seems.
For they are actions that a man might play;
As of a father: for let the world take note
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.
Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof,
No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day
O that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him
A little month; or ere those shoes were old
She married:— O, most wicked speed, to post
I am very glad to see you.—Good even, sir.—
Against yourself: I know you are no truant.
By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes,
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,
But answer made it none: yet once methought
Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.
A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting;
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
If with too credent ear you list his songs,
And keep you in the rear of your affection,
I shall th' effect of this good lesson keep
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee.
Are most select and generous chief in that.
Given private time to you; and you yourself
And that in way of caution,—I must tell you
As it behooves my daughter and your honour.
He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know,
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power
The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen:
That it went hand in hand even with the vow
Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor
But soft! methinks I scent the morning air;
Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven!—
I hold it fit that we shake hands and part:
For your desire to know what is between us,
As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,
Never to speak of this that you have heard,
As I, perchance, hereafter shall think meet
What company, at what expense; and finding,
Than your particular demands will touch it:
The youth you breathe of guilty, be assur'd
There falling out at tennis': or perchance,
Lord Hamlet,—with his doublet all unbrac'd;
No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd,
And with his other hand thus o'er his brow,
And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd
He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;
That does afflict our natures. I am sorry,—
More grief to hide than hate to utter love.
Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern!
Our hasty sending. Something have you heard
To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather,
Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you,
Heavens make our presence and our practices
Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege,
That it might please you to give quiet pass
Through your dominions for this enterprise,
And at our more consider'd time we'll read,
When I had seen this hot love on the wing,—
Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb;
I'll board him presently:—O, give me leave.
'The rugged Pyrrhus,—he whose sable arms,
That lend a tyrannous and a damned light
But as we often see, against some storm,
About her lank and all o'erteemed loins,
That from her working all his visage wan'd;
Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,
Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,
Play something like the murder of my father
Get from him why he puts on this confusion,
And drive his purpose on to these delights.
For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither,
Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it
I hear him coming: let's withdraw, my lord.
To be, or not to be,—that is the question:—
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
With this regard, their currents turn awry,
The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
This something-settled matter in his heart;
You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said;
We heard it all.—My lord, do as you please;
That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits,
And, after, we will both our judgments join
To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt:
The poor advanc'd makes friends of enemies;
Why then, belike he likes it not, perdy.
Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.
To give them seals never, my soul, consent!
To keep itself from 'noyance; but much more
That spirit upon whose weal depend and rest
Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage;
My lord, he's going to his mother's closet:
O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
May one be pardon'd and retain the offence?
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice;
To give in evidence. What then? what rests?
Art more engag'd! Help, angels! Make assay:
Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
That it is proof and bulwark against sense.
From the fair forehead of an innocent love,
And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?
And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole
The important acting of your dread command?
O, step between her and her fighting soul,—
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works,—
And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements,
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;
And do not spread the compost on the weeds,
Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good.
Good night: but go not to mine uncle's bed;
To the next abstinence: the next more easy;
And either curb the devil, or throw him out
I do repent; but heaven hath pleas'd it so,
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.—
Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd,—
But I will delve one yard below their mines
When in one line two crafts directly meet.—
I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room.—
Mother, good-night.—Indeed, this counsellor
Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you:—
Whips out his rapier, cries 'A rat, a rat!'
Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone?
The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch
Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this.
The associates tend, and everything is bent
Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night:
Go, Captain, from me greet the Danish king:
Will not debate the question of this straw:
Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;'
Witness this army, of such mass and charge,
To hide the slain?—O, from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!
But in battalions! First, her father slain:
Of his own just remove: the people muddied,
In hugger-mugger to inter him: poor Ophelia
Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
How cheerfully on the false trail they cry!
That treason can but peep to what it would,
How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with:
That both the worlds, I give to negligence,
That I am guiltless of your father's death,
Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!—
Be you content to lend your patience to us,
As by your safety, wisdom, all things else,
Lives almost by his looks; and for myself,—
Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not:
I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come;
And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality
The light and careless livery that it wears
Had witchcraft in't: he grew unto his seat;
A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it;
Dies in his own too much: that we would do,
Hamlet comes back: what would you undertake
Collected from all simples that have virtue
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up;
Unto that element: but long it could not be
Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead,
Till of this flat a mountain you have made,
Which let thy wiseness fear: away thy hand!
Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much
The King and Queen and all are coming down.
Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness.
Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet:
Who does it, then? His madness: if't be so,
To keep my name ungor'd. But till that time
Set me the stoups of wine upon that table,—
I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery.
It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain;
Never to rise again: thy mother's poison'd:
Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet:
I am dead, Horatio.—Wretched queen, adieu!—
That are but mutes or audience to this act,
What feast is toward in thine eternal cell,
And our affairs from England come too late:
That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead:
And let me speak to the yet unknowing world
Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters;
The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.
How now, Horatio! You tremble and look pale:
What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands
But, soft, behold! lo, where it comes again!
Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
The memory be green, and that it us befitted
Or thinking by our late dear brother's death
Colleagued with this dream of his advantage,
Thus much the business is:—we have here writ
His further gait herein; in that the levies,
The lists, and full proportions are all made
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.
How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief;
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
Than that which dearest father bears his son
Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet:
Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother,
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
By what it fed on: and yet, within a month,—
And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?—
Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me
My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.
I will requite your loves. So, fare ye well:
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
My father's spirit in arms! All is not well;
In thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes,
Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now;
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain
Virtue itself scopes not calumnious strokes:
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy:
I do not know, my lord, what I should think.
Or by some habit, that too much o'er-leavens
Shall in the general censure take corruption
From that particular fault: the dram of eale
Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd,
Making night hideous, and we fools of nature
Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,
'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life
Brief let me be.—Sleeping within my orchard,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you:
Hic et ubique? then we'll shift our ground.—
And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
Rest, rest, perturbed spirit!—So, gentlemen,
And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.
Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris;
By this encompassment and drift of question,
As thus, 'I know his father and his friends,
And in part him;—do you mark this, Reynaldo?
But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips
Your party in converse, him you would sound,
Shall you my son. You have me, have you not?
And end his being: that done, he lets me go:
For out o' doors he went without their help,
To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king:
Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.
Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz:
Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in.
Was falsely borne in hand,—sends out arrests
And his commission to employ those soldiers,
Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
I have a daughter,—have whilst she is mine,—
Hath given me this: now gather, and surmise.
Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful.
Before my daughter told me,— what might you,
'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy sphere;
You go to seek the Lord Hamlet; there he is.
On fortune's cap we are not the very button.
With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face?
'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be
To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps
He does confess he feels himself distracted,
And by opposing end them?—To die,—to sleep,—
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go.
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp;
One scene of it comes near the circumstance,
They are coming to the play. I must be idle:
That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,
Their own enactures with themselves destroy:
For who not needs shall never lack a friend;
Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light!
Sport and repose lock from me day and night!
Meet what I would have well, and it destroy!
Confederate season, else no creature seeing;
What's near it with it: it is a massy wheel,
Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.
There is no shuffling;—there the action lies
And now I'll do't;—and so he goes to heaven;
And so am I reveng'd.—that would be scann'd:
When he is fit and season'd for his passage?
Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent:
And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me?—
Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger.—
And let me wring your heart: for so I shall,
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind?
Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
And there I see such black and grained spots
These words like daggers enter in mine ears;
A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
That, laps'd in time and passion, lets go by
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
Sprinkle cool patience! Whereon do you look?
On him, on him! Look you how pale he glares!
And I the matter will re-word; which madness
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul
O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.
That monster custom, who all sense doth eat,
I'll blessing beg of you.—For this same lord
The death I gave him. So again, good-night.—
Such dear concernings hide? who would do so?
Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape,
Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath,
Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to-night!
This mad young man. But so much was our love
And what's untimely done: so haply slander,—
Pays homage to us,—thou mayst not coldly set
The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England;
To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
Each toy seems Prologue to some great amiss:
Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste
They cry 'Choose we! Laertes shall be king!'
And for my means, I'll husband them so well,
Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May!
O heavens! is't possible a young maid's wits
Nature is fine in love; and where 'tis fine,
Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear,
My virtue or my plague, be it either which,—
That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
As checking at his voyage, and that he means
That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed
If you oppos'd them. Sir, this report of his
No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize;
Most generous, and free from all contriving,
A sword unbated, and, in a pass of practice,
We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings,—
Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke;
2 Clown. Nay, but hear you, goodman delver,—
Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home
Depriv'd thee of!—Hold off the earth awhile,
I pr'ythee, take thy fingers from my throat;
When that her golden couplets are disclos'd,
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.
That would not let me sleep: methought I lay
And prais'd be rashness for it,—let us know,
With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life,—
Folded the writ up in the form of the other;
Popp'd in between the election and my hopes;
It must be shortly known to him from England
And a man's life is no more than to say One.
Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him.
And will this brother's wager frankly play.—
Let all the battlements their ordnance fire;
Richer than that which four successive kings
Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows:
Come, for the third, Laertes: you but dally;
Why, as a woodcock to my own springe, Osric;
Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.—
I cannot live to hear the news from England;
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!
I think I hear them.—Stand, ho! Who is there?
What, has this thing appear'd again to-night?
Looks it not like the King? mark it, Horatio.
With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
Why this same strict and most observant watch
At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king,
Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there,
That hath a stomach in't; which is no other,—
Well may it sort, that this portentous figure
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands,
And even the like precurse of fierce events,—
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill:
Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death
Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature
Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
Th' imperial jointress to this warlike state,
Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras,
He hath not fail'd to pester us with message,
Now for ourself and for this time of meeting:
In that and all things will we show our duty.
You told us of some suit; what is't, Laertes?
He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave
These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
To give these mourning duties to your father;
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
With which she followed my poor father's body
But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?
We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
May give his saying deed; which is no further
Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads
Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame!
The time invites you; go, your servants tend.
Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl,
Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?
Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby;
Or,—not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,
Giving more light than heat,—extinct in both,
Be something scanter of your maiden presence;
Not of that dye which their investments show,
Makes us traduc'd and tax'd of other nations:
Their virtues else,—be they as pure as grace,
So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.
And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
The thin and wholesome blood; so did it mine;
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else?
At least, I am sure, it may be so in Denmark:
Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio,
Never make known what you have seen to-night.
That you know aught of me:—this is not to do,
And thrice his head thus waving up and down,—
And leads the will to desperate undertakings,
I am sorry that with better heed and judgment
Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,
And here give up ourselves, in the full bent,
Thou still hast been the father of good news.
Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway?
That she should lock herself from his resort,
Which done, she took the fruits of my advice;
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him:
When he lay couched in the ominous horse,—
On Mars's armour, forg'd for proof eterne,
I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench,
I know my course. The spirit that I have seen
More relative than this.—the play's the thing
When we would bring him on to some confession
And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties
But that the dread of something after death,—
Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
From fashion of himself. What think you on't?
Sprung from neglected love.—How now, Ophelia!
To show his grief: let her be round with him;
And I'll be plac'd, so please you, in the ear
Of all their conference. If she find him not,
That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
Which I have told thee, of my father's death:
I pr'ythee, when thou see'st that act a-foot,
Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground,
So far from cheer and from your former state.
Such love must needs be treason in my breast:
None wed the second but who kill'd the first.
Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.
Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife,
With all the strength and armour of the mind,
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
And what's in prayer but this twofold force,—
My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
Of those effects for which I did the murder,—
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
Much heat and him. I'll silence me e'en here.
And,—would it were not so!—you are my mother.
I took thee for thy better: take thy fortune;
And sets a blister there; makes marriage-vows
A rhapsody of words: heaven's face doth glow;
O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,
Would make them capable.—Do not look upon me;
Why, look you there! look how it steals away!
Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
With wondrous potency. Once more, good-night:
And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way
Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd?
Shows itself pure: he weeps for what is done.
I have sent to seek him and to find the body.
How dangerous is it that this man goes loose!
Our sovereign process; which imports at full,
And thou must cure me: till I know 'tis done,
Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats
To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me:
She speaks much of her father; says she hears
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
I thank you:—keep the door.—O thou vile king,
Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot
Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow
Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person:
Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!
Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet.
And do't the speedier, that you may direct me
Now must your conscience my acquittance seal,
And you must put me in your heart for friend,
And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine,—
Under the which he shall not choose but fall:
Wherein they say you shine: your sum of parts
And to such wondrous doing brought his horse,
He swore, had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home:
Will not peruse the foils; so that with ease,
Under the moon, can save the thing from death
Weigh what convenience both of time and means
May fit us to our shape: if this should fail,
Should have a back or second, that might hold
As make your bouts more violent to that end,—
A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping,
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
1 Clown. Ay, marry, is't—crowner's quest law.
And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken
The corse they follow did with desperate hand
She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd
Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.—
Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting
Finger'd their packet; and, in fine, withdrew
That, on the view and know of these contents,
The changeling never known. Now, the next day
They are not near my conscience; their defeat
That might your nature, honour, and exception
And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes,
Free me so far in your most generous thoughts
I'll be your foil, Laertes; in mine ignorance
I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile.—
They bleed on both sides.—How is it, my lord?
I can no more:—the king, the king's to blame.
Had I but time,—as this fell sergeant, death,
The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit:
If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.
But since, so jump upon this bloody question,
Of deaths put on by cunning and forc'd cause;
I have some rights of memory in this kingdom,
Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss.
For this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter cold,
Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us:
In the same figure, like the king that's dead.
Most like:—it harrows me with fear and wonder.
Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour,
In what particular thought to work I know not;
This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm;
To our most valiant brother. So much for him,—
To business with the king, more than the scope
That can denote me truly: these, indeed, seem;
But, you must know, your father lost a father;
Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven,
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first corse till he that died to-day,
'This must be so.' We pray you, throw to earth
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell;
O God! a beast that wants discourse of reason,
But break my heart,—for I must hold my tongue!
The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.
And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware
Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter,
As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet.
That, for some vicious mole of nature in them,
The form of plausive manners;—that these men,—
Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre,
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven;
That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through
Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust
Against thy mother aught: leave her to heaven,
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!
With arms encumber'd thus, or this head-shake,
So grace and mercy at your most need help you,
Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo.
You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynaldo,
That they do know my son, come you more nearer
What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank
Faith, no; as you may season it in the charge.
That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court
To whom he more adheres. If it will please you
His father's death and our o'erhasty marriage.
Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee;
As they fell out by time, by means, and place,
You know sometimes he walks for hours together
The rugged Pyrrhus, like th' Hyrcanian beast,—
Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
And, like a neutral to his will and matter,
As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder
But who, O who, had seen the mobled queen,—
A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up;—
Unless things mortal move them not at all,—
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
That he should weep for her? What would he do,
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech;
As deep as to the lungs? who does me this, ha?
Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words
Fie upon't! foh!—About, my brain! I have heard
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
But from what cause he will by no means speak.
With all my heart; and it doth much content me
Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing, unseen,
Your loneliness.—We are oft to blame in this,—
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
My honour'd lord, you know right well you did;
That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth
To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!
Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,
No, good mother, here's metal more attractive.
My operant powers their functions leave to do:
And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
Are base respects of thrift, but none of love.
Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
For some must watch, while some must sleep:
Is, in his retirement, marvellous distempered.
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder!—
But in our circumstance and course of thought,
'Tis heavy with him: and am I, then, reveng'd,
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
And waits upon the judgment: and what judgment
Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love
And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?
That not your trespass, but my madness speaks:
For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
For who that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
And blow them at the moon: O, 'tis most sweet,
But we will ship him hence: and this vile deed
Both countenance and excuse.—Ho, Guildenstern!
Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,—
As my great power thereof may give thee sense,
To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it;
That inward breaks, and shows no cause without
I'll be with you straight. Go a little before.
When honour's at the stake. How stand I, then,
Go to their graves like beds; fight for a plot
When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
With pestilent speeches of his father's death;
That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
Is the great love the general gender bear him;
For her perfections:—but my revenge will come.
Not that I think you did not love your father;
If this did blast in proof. Soft! let me see:—
There, on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds
Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes;
1 Clown. He was the first that ever bore arms.
As we have warranties: her death was doubtful;
Till the last trumpet; for charitable prayers,
Till I have caught her once more in mine arms:
Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow
Importing Denmark's health, and England's too,
As peace should still her wheaten garland wear
But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me
What imports the nomination of this gentleman?
'Now the king drinks to Hamlet.'—Come, begin:—
Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane,
Mine and my father's death come not upon thee,
You that look pale and tremble at this chance,
Is strict in his arrest,—O, I could tell you,—
Are here arriv'd, give order that these bodies
How these things came about: so shall you hear
Fall'n on the inventors' heads: all this can I
Which now, to claim my vantage doth invite me.
Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows,
His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras,
Comes armed through our watch; so like the king
And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad;
Farewell; and let your haste commend your duty.
From whence though willingly I came to Denmark,
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
Together with all forms, moods, shows of grief,
I pray thee stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!
Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
But two months dead!—nay, not so much, not two:
My father's brother; but no more like my father
Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd
And I with them the third night kept the watch:
His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;
Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel;
And they in France of the best rank and station
That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,
Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers,—
And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,
As in their birth,—wherein they are not guilty,
That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel,
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?
What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord,
Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason,
Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid
Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift
A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!
There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark
These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.
O'ermaster't as you may. And now, good friends,
That you, at such times seeing me, never shall,
'And in part him;—but,' you may say, 'not well:
'Good sir,' or so; or 'friend,' or 'gentleman'—
He closes with you thus:—'I know the gentleman;
There was he gaming; there o'ertook in's rouse;
My news shall be the fruit to that great feast.
It was against your highness; whereat griev'd,—
To give th' assay of arms against your majesty.
Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together:
Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time.
That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity;
This, in obedience, hath my daughter show'd me;
What might you think? No, I went round to work,
Thence to a lightness; and, by this declension,
Black as his purpose, did the night resemble
Stoops to his base; and with a hideous crash
The bold winds speechless, and the orb below
Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe,
But if the gods themselves did see her then,
The instant burst of clamour that she made,—
With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing!
With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain!
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing;
Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled
To sound what stop she please. Give me that man
Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round
Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands,
Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know;
This world is not for aye; nor 'tis not strange
'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile;
Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
Ah, ha!—Come, some music! Come, the recorders!—
To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,—
In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd,
To serve in such a difference. What devil was't
My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
And makes as healthful music: it is not madness
To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue;
Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse;
But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know;
Hoist with his own petard: and 't shall go hard
Is now most still, most secret, and most grave,
Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body
Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence,
Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes;
Sure he that made us with such large discourse,
O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
Next, your son gone; and he most violent author
Where are my Switzers? let them guard the door.
To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms;
By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight,
They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give,
Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours,
No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,
Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd,
Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
Convert his gyves to graces; so that my arrows,
That we can let our beard be shook with danger,
They were given me by Claudio:—he receiv'd them
But even his mother shall uncharge the practice
You have been talk'd of since your travel much,
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
We'll put on those shall praise your excellence
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze,
To contract, O, the time for, ah, my behove,
And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
Worse than the mutinies in the bilboes. Rashly,
Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,
Here's the commission: read it at more leisure.
Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent
Does it not, thinks't thee, stand me now upon,—
The portraiture of his: I'll court his favours:
Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.
Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me.
Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most
The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath;
In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups;
You from the Polack wars, and you from England,
Scene I. Elsinore. A platform before the Castle.
What art thou, that usurp'st this time of night,
Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day:
Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands,
Had he been vanquisher; as by the same cov'nant,
The source of this our watch, and the chief head
As, stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France,
And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape
Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open
The King doth wake to-night and takes his rouse,
More honour'd in the breach than the observance.
They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason;
Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd:
And shall I couple hell? O, fie!—Hold, my heart;
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
Come on!—you hear this fellow in the cellarage,—
A worthy pioner!—Once more remove, good friends.
Marry, well said; very well said. Look you, sir,
Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling,
Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth:
What, have you given him any hard words of late?
Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus,
The head and source of all your son's distemper.
Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour:
I would fain prove so. But what might you think,
This must not be:' and then I precepts gave her,
Hath there been such a time,—I'd fain know that—
My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.
O, there has been much throwing about of brains.
Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets,
But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
That I have? He would drown the stage with tears
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
We o'er-raught on the way: of these we told him,
Ophelia, walk you here.—Gracious, so please you,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;
Thus set it down:—he shall with speed to England
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?
Hath seal'd thee for herself: for thou hast been
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
About the world have times twelve thirties been,
Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too;
Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother.—
To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you;
Are mortis'd and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother,
Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear
The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege:
And how his audit stands, who knows save heaven?
He will come straight. Look you lay home to him:
Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak.
Look, where he goes, even now out at the portal!
You must translate: 'tis fit we understand them.
Friends both, go join you with some further aid:
Transports his poison'd shot,—may miss our name,
What have you done, my lord, with the dead body?
With fiery quickness: therefore prepare thyself;
Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard;
And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,—
This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace,
Where is this king?—Sirs, stand you all without.
Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me.
Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth,
And where the offence is let the great axe fall.
And they can well on horseback: but this gallant
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
Let shame say what it will: when these are gone,
I think it be thine indeed, for thou liest in't.
How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot?
'Twere to consider too curiously to consider so.
And, but that great command o'ersways the order,
So much for this, sir: now let me see the other;
Why, man, they did make love to this employment;
Give me your pardon, sir: I have done you wrong:
Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet,
Your grace has laid the odds o' the weaker side.
But since he's better'd, we have therefore odds.
No, no! the drink, the drink!—O my dear Hamlet!—
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less,
Gertrude, Queen of Denmark, and Mother of Hamlet.
When yond same star that's westward from the pole
Had made his course to illume that part of heaven
Peace, break thee off; look where it comes again!
The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
Speak of it:—stay, and speak!—Stop it, Marcellus!
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius?
Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,
Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth
That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet,
Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood;
To ears of flesh and blood.—List, list, O, list!—
Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear.
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
And much offence too. Touching this vision here,—
May do, to express his love and friending to you,
As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' the working,
Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other;
I had not quoted him: I fear'd he did but trifle,
And meant to wreck thee; but beshrew my jealousy!
That, being of so young days brought up with him,
And since so neighbour'd to his youth and humour,
Why day is day, night is night, and time is time.
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest.
With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide;
Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick:
With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs,
Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play to-morrow.
'Tis too much prov'd,—that with devotion's visage
The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastering art,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
With a bare bodkin? who would these fardels bear,
As made the things more rich; their perfume lost,
The observ'd of all observers,—quite, quite down!
That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.
Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree;
The great man down, you mark his favourite flies,
But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.
It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.
And so I do still, by these pickers and stealers.
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven;
You are the Queen, your husband's brother's wife,
What have I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tongue
This was your husband.—Look you now what follows:
Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood.
Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him:
Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends;
Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure.
That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing,
And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts;
Without the which we are pictures or mere beasts:
O'erbears your offices. The rabble call him lord;
To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil!
O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt,
Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will,
Sailors, sir: they say they have letters for you.
Come, I will give you way for these your letters;
Importing health and graveness.—Two months since,
I've seen myself, and serv'd against, the French,
With the brave beast: so far he topp'd my thought
Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes,
Will you do this, keep close within your chamber.
This is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point
'Twere better not assay'd: therefore this project
May violets spring!—I tell thee, churlish priest,
I hop'd thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife;
The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth,
Stay, give me drink.—Hamlet, this pearl is thine;
Give me the cup; let go; by heaven, I'll have't.—
Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland,
And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more:
Dar'd to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet,—
For so this side of our known world esteem'd him,—
I'll cross it, though it blast me.—Stay, illusion!
Scene II. Elsinore. A room of state in the Castle.
To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom
With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage,
Thou know'st 'tis common,—all that lives must die,
'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,
And the king's rouse the heaven shall bruit again,
I doubt some foul play: would the night were come!
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.
And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,
Indeed? I heard it not: then draws near the season
Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels;
From our achievements, though perform'd at height,
By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!—
There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
And how, and who, what means, and where they keep,
Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear: for lo! his sword,
A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,
Doth rend the region; so, after Pyrrhus' pause,
Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods,
Of Hamlet's wildness: so shall I hope your virtues
To sleep! perchance to dream:—ay, there's the rub;
Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little,
Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and bles'd are those
If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing,
Belike this show imports the argument of the play.
Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own:
With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge;
Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down,
His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
There's letters seal'd: and my two schoolfellows,—
Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you.
All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude,
Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds,
Why thou art thus incens'd.—Let him go, Gertrude:—
Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone,
Break not your sleeps for that:—you must not think
And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more:
What should this mean? Are all the rest come back?
And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh,
The Frenchman gave you; bring you in fine together
With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.
The queen, the courtiers: who is that they follow?
Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand
As love between them like the palm might flourish;
He that hath kill'd my king, and whor'd my mother;
And with such cozenage—is't not perfect conscience
I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this water-fly?
This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head.
This likes me well. These foils have all a length?
To have prov'd most royally: and, for his passage,
'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed, Francisco.
Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a seal'd compact,
For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,
That father lost, lost his; and the survivor bound,
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
Let me not think on't,—Frailty, thy name is woman!—
Would have mourn'd longer,—married with mine uncle,
While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise,
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.
Have of your audience been most free and bounteous;
With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,—
You, as your business and desires shall point you,—
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together;
Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him;
But look where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.
Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd
With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,
Striking too short at Greeks: his antique sword,
The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,
Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,
Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames
Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd,
My lord, I will use them according to their desert.
With most miraculous organ, I'll have these players
Was not like madness. There's something in his soul
Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief.
You are naught, you are naught: I'll mark the play.
When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out
And that your grace hath screen'd and stood between
Else could you not have motion: but sure that sense
What noise? who calls on Hamlet? O, here they come.
But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even,
For that which thou hast done,—must send thee hence
Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,
Indeed would make one think there might be thought,
'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew
Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't:
But yet to me they are strong. The queen his mother
And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepar'd him
Of crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them.
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,
This presence knows, and you must needs have heard,
Your skill shall, like a star in the darkest night,
Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me!
Now cracks a noble heart.—Good night, sweet prince,
The ears are senseless that should give us hearing,
Did sometimes march? By heaven I charge thee, speak!
And lose your voice: what wouldst thou beg, Laertes,
Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you:
Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly;
How say you then; would heart of man once think it?—
More than his father's death, that thus hath put him
To their vile murders: roasted in wrath and fire,
Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,
That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor.
That even our loves should with our fortunes change;
Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have,
There's matter in these sighs. These profound heaves
Should have kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt
That else leans on the affair: pray you, make haste.
A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom
Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means
That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard;
That, sweepstake, you will draw both friend and foe,
If one could match you: the scrimers of their nation
And that our drift look through our bad performance.
So fast they follow:—your sister's drown'd, Laertes.
Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her,
Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech;
To quit him with this arm? and is't not to be damn'd
You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is,—
Even while men's minds are wild: lest more mischance
Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distill'd
Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,
And you are stay'd for. There,—my blessing with thee!
Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
Whither wilt thou lead me? speak! I'll go no further.
Well said, old mole! canst work i' the earth so fast?
Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load too.
Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat
How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience!
Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood,
Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with,
You heavenly guards!—What would your gracious figure?
Of nothing: bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after.
And where 'tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd,
We should do when we would; for this 'would' changes,
That hurts by easing. But to the quick o' the ulcer:—
When our deep plots do fail; and that should teach us
Methinks it is very sultry and hot for my complexion.
Or then, or then; with such, or such; and, as you say,
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.
Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in't?
To hear the process; I'll warrant she'll tax him home:
For good Polonius' death; and we have done but greenly
Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge
And of all Christian souls, I pray God.—God b' wi' ye.
No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly.
Ha, ha boy! say'st thou so? art thou there, truepenny?—
This must be known; which, being kept close, might move
Very well.—Follow that lord; and look you mock him not.
My lord, the queen would speak with you, and presently.
Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart, with strings of steel,
I see a cherub that sees them.—But, come; for England!—
Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield them,
A document in madness,—thoughts and remembrance fitted.
Subscrib'd it: gave't the impression; plac'd it safely,
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres;
O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou!
I hope we have reform'd that indifferently with us, sir.
How now, my lord! will the king hear this piece of work?
Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;
Thick and and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers
I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial.
As 'Well, well, we know'; or 'We could, an if we would';—
That's not my meaning: but breathe his faults so quaintly
'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have pronounc'd:
The courtier's, scholar's, soldier's, eye, tongue, sword,
His purse is empty already; all's golden words are spent.
The queen desires you to use some gentle entertainment to
Hamlet, Son to the former, and Nephew to the present King.
'To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified
Why did you laugh then, when I said 'Man delights not me'?
Dost thou hear me, old friend? Can you play 'The Murder of
To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd?
razed shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir?
Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel?
I am glad of it: a knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear.
A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! 'a pour'd a flagon of
To this effect, sir; after what flourish your nature will.
Or 'If we list to speak'; or 'There be, an if they might';—
That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; 'beautified' is a vile
My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah,
fortunes turn Turk with me,—with two Provincial roses on my
There's tricks i' the world, and hems, and beats her heart;
Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's
I knew you must be edified by the margent ere you had done.
It shall to the barber's, with your beard.—Pr'ythee say on.—
The story is extant, and written in very choice Italian; you
I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe?
Well, God dild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter.
Woul't weep? woul't fight? woul't fast? woul't tear thyself?
By the mass, I was about to say something:—Where did I leave?
'O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art to
O my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly.
The body is with the king, but the king is not with the body.
And then, sir, does he this,—he does—What was I about to say?—
My lord, I have news to tell you. When Roscius was an actor in
He's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps:—say on; come
Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?
He poisons him i' the garden for's estate. His name's Gonzago:
She desires to speak with you in her closet ere you go to bed.
Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i' the earth?
I am constant to my purposes; they follow the king's pleasure:
Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers—if the rest of my
shall see anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife.
Laertes, and Mourners following; King, Queen, their Trains, &c.]
Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers, and other
reckon my groans: but that I love thee best, O most best, believe
'Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him,
Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at
Pray you, let's have no words of this; but when they ask you what
You lie out on't, sir, and therefore 'tis not yours: for my part,
if his fitness speaks, mine is ready; now or whensoever, provided
1 Clown. 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 't will away again from me to you.
1 Clown. One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.
Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favours?
1 Clown. A whoreson, mad fellow's it was: whose do you think it was?
Rey. At 'closes in the consequence,' at 'friend or so,' and gentleman.'
Ham. No, no! They do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i' the world.
2 Clown. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.
Ros. I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation.
King. I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet; these words are not mine.
1 Clown. How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defence?
2 Clown. Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a carpenter?
Ham. Ay, sir, but 'While the grass grows'—the proverb is something musty.
Ham. 'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.
1 Clown. 'Twill not he seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.
He does well to commend it himself; there are no tongues else for's turn.
Ros. Why, then, your ambition makes it one; 'tis too narrow for your mind.
Pol. 'Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good discretion.
Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the body is and go with us to the king.
Pol. I did enact Julius Caesar; I was kill'd i' the Capitol; Brutus killed me.
Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at grave-making?
Ham. The concernancy, sir? why do we wrap the gentleman in our more rawer breath?
Ros. Even those you were wont to take such delight in,—the tragedians of the city.
Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I love passing well.
1 Clown. Why, here in Denmark: I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years.
Guil. But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony; I have not the skill.
Hor. Is't not possible to understand in another tongue? You will do't, sir, really.
Ham. We shall know by this fellow: the players cannot keep counsel; they'll tell all.
Ham. O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand pound! Didst perceive?
Ham. In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she is a strumpet. What's the news?
Ham. It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there.—Be the players ready?
Ham. I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see the puppets dallying.
Guil. The queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you.
Ros. Then thus she says: your behaviour hath struck her into amazement and admiration.
Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any further trade with us?
Ham. Nothing but to show you how a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar.
Ros. Happily he's the second time come to them; for they say an old man is twice a child.
Ham. That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty.
1 Clown. Is she to be buried in Christian burial when she wilfully seeks her own salvation?
Ham. Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? Are they so followed?
Ham. I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.
Pol. Look, whether he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears in's eyes.—Pray you, no more!
Ham. I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did, it would not much approve me.—Well, sir.
Ham. It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of gain-giving as would perhaps trouble a woman.
Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and start not so wildly from my affair.
Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that it is but a shadow's shadow.
Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice of the king himself for your succession in Denmark?
1 Clown. What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?
Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god-kissing carrion,—Have you a daughter?
Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should impart a thing to you from his majesty.
Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool nowhere but in's own house. Farewell.
Ham. How chances it they travel? their residence, both in reputation and profit, was better both ways.
Ham. Then will I come to my mother by and by.—They fool me to the top of my bent.—I will come by and by.
Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons, Denmark being one o' the worst.
1 Clown. Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that day that our last King Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.
Ham. I will receive it with all diligence of spirit. Put your bonnet to his right use; 'tis for the head.
Osr. I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation laid on him by them, in his meed he's unfellowed.
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.
Hor. If your mind dislike anything, obey it: I will forestall their repair hither, and say you are not fit.
Ham. Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish: I eat the air, promise-crammed: you cannot feed capons so.
Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.
1 Clown. Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits there; or, if he do not, it's no great matter there.
Ham. Ay, or any show that you'll show him: be not you ashamed to show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means.
Guil. Which dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.
Ham. My mother: father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother.—Come, for England!
Ham. O wonderful son, that can so stonish a mother!—But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration?
Ham. Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine: 'tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest.
Ham. Let her not walk i' the sun: conception is a blessing, but not as your daughter may conceive:—friend, look to't.
Ham. They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow.—Whose grave's this, sir?
Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so: to me it is a prison.
Ham. I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him in excellence; but to know a man well were to know himself.
Ham. I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players; mark it.—You say right, sir: o' Monday morning; 'twas so indeed.
Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.
Ham. You should not have believ'd me; for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it: I loved you not.
2 Clown. Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o' Christian burial.
2 Clown. I tell thee she is; and therefore make her grave straight: the crowner hath sat on her, and finds it Christian burial.
Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more willingly part withal,—except my life, except my life, except my life.
Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern;—and you too;—at each ear a hearer: that great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling clouts.
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?
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.
Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander till he find it stopping a bung-hole?
Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a sponge!—what replication should be made by the son of a king?
1 Clown. Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: it was the very day that young Hamlet was born,—he that is mad, and sent into England.
Ham. So you must take your husbands.—Begin, murderer; pox, leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come:—'The croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.'
Oph. You must sing 'Down a-down, an you call him a-down-a.' O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter.
Ham. O, your only jig-maker! What should a man do but be merry? for look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within 's two hours.
Ham. Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretch'd heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason.
Ham. We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines which I would set down and insert in't? could you not?
Ham. Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify this to the doctor; for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps plunge him into far more choler.
Sailor. He shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for you, sir,—it comes from the ambassador that was bound for England; if your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is.
Ham. Why— 'As by lot, God wot,' and then, you know, 'It came to pass, as most like it was—' The first row of the pious chanson will show you more; for look where my abridgment comes.
Ham. 'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with your finger and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops.
Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you: we coted them on the way; and hither are they coming to offer you service.
Ham. I do not think so; since he went into France I have been in continual practice: I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no matter.
Ham. Then is doomsday near; but your news is not true. Let me question more in particular: what have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune, that she sends you to prison hither?
Osr. Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,—as 'twere—I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head. Sir, this is the matter,—
Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseased: 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,—
Ham. Or of a courtier, which could say 'Good morrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord?' This might be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord such-a-one's horse when he meant to beg it,—might it not?
Ham. No such matter: I will not sort you with the rest of my servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore?
1 Clown. Faith, if he be not rotten before he die,—as we have many pocky corses now-a-days that will scarce hold the laying in,—he will last you some eight year or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year.
Ham. Why, anything—but to the purpose. You were sent for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks, which your modesties have not craft enough to colour: I know the good king and queen have sent for you.
Ham. Odd's bodikin, man, better: use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping? Use them after your own honour and dignity: the less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. Take them in.
Lord. My lord, his majesty commended him to you by young Osric, who brings back to him that you attend him in the hall: he sends to know if your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you will take longer time.
1 Clown. What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the Scripture? The Scripture says Adam digg'd: could he dig without arms? I'll put another question to thee: if thou answerest me not to the purpose, confess thyself,—
Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do your mother's commandment: if not, your pardon and my return shall be the end of my business.
Ham. 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.
Ros. Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and the nation holds it no sin to tarre them to controversy: there was, for awhile, no money bid for argument unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question.
Osr. The king, sir, hath laid that, in a dozen passes between your and him, he shall not exceed you three hits: he hath laid on twelve for nine; and it would come to immediate trial if your lordship would vouchsafe the answer.
1 Clown. It must be se offendendo; it cannot be else. For here lies the point: if I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act: and an act hath three branches; it is to act, to do, and to perform: argal, she drowned herself wittingly.
1 Clown. Why, sir, his hide is so tann'd with his trade that he will keep out water a great while; and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body. Here's a skull now; this skull hath lain in the earth three-and-twenty years.
Ham. Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a vice to know him. He hath much land, and fertile: let a beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the king's mess; 'tis a chough; but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt.
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 his likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once.
Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you: and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, deal justly with me: come, come; nay, speak.
1 Clown. I like thy wit well, in good faith: the gallows does well; but how does it well? it does well to those that do ill: now, thou dost ill to say the gallows is built stronger than the church; argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come.
1 Clown. Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating; and when you are asked this question next, say 'a grave-maker;' the houses he makes last till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan; fetch me a stoup of liquor.
Ham. Why, e'en so: and now my Lady Worm's; chapless, and knocked about the mazard with a sexton's spade: here's fine revolution, an we had the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding but to play at loggets with 'em? mine ache to think on't.
Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: how the knave jowls it to the ground,as if 'twere Cain's jawbone, that did the first murder! This might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o'erreaches; one that would circumvent God, might it not?
Ham. Sir, I will walk here in the hall: if it please his majesty, it is the breathing time of day with me: let the foils be brought, the gentleman willing, and the king hold his purpose, I will win for him if I can; if not, I will gain nothing but my shame and the odd hits.
Oph. I hope all will be well. We must be patient: but I cannot choose but weep, to think they would 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, sweet ladies; good night, good night.
1 Clown. Why, there thou say'st: and the more pity that great folk should have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves more than their even Christian.—Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers: they hold up Adam's profession.
Ham. Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all: since no man has aught of what he leaves, what is't to leave betimes?
Ham. That you must teach me. But let me conjure you, by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for or no.
Ham. It is not very strange; for my uncle is king of Denmark, and those that would make mouths at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little. 'Sblood, there is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out.
Ham. 'Tis well. I'll have thee speak out the rest of this soon.— Good my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear? Let them be well used; for they are the abstracts and brief chronicles of the time; after your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live.
Ham. How absolute the knave is! We must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, these three years I have taken note of it, the age is grown so picked that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier he galls his kibe.—How long hast thou been a grave-maker?
1 Clown. Give me leave. Here lies the water; good: here stands the man; good: if the man go to this water and drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he goes,—mark you that: but if the water come to him and drown him, he drowns not himself; argal, he that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life.
Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten: a certain convocation of politic 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.
Ham. The phrase would be more german to the matter if we could carry cannon by our sides. I would it might be hangers till then. But, on: six Barbary horses against six French swords, their assigns, and three liberal conceited carriages: that's the French bet against the Danish: why is this all imponed, as you call it?
Ham. The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is the duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see anon; 'tis a knavish piece of work: but what o' that? your majesty, and we that have free souls, it touches us not: let the gall'd jade wince; our withers are unwrung.
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, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouthed, to be last swallowed: when he needs what you have gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you shall be dry again.
Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too heavy nor Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men.
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, go: farewell. 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. Farewell.
Osr. The king, sir, hath wager'd with him six Barbary horses: against the which he has imponed, as I take it, six French rapiers and poniards, with their assigns, as girdle, hangers, and so: three of the carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, very responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of very liberal conceit.
Ham. What, are they children? who maintains 'em? How are they escoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing? will they not say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common players,—as it is most like, if their means are no better,—their writers do them wrong to make them exclaim against their own succession?
Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, come: the appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb; lest my extent to the players, which I tell you must show fairly outward, should more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome: but my uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived.
Ros. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace: but there is, sir, an aery of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top of question, and are most tyrannically clapped for't: these are now the fashion; and so berattle the common stages,—so they call them,—that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goose-quills and dare scarce come thither.
Osr. Nay, in good faith; for mine ease, in good faith. Sir, here is newly come to court Laertes; believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent differences, of very soft society and great showing: indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card or calendar of gentry; for you shall find in him the continent of what part a gentleman would see.
Ham. He did comply with his dug before he suck'd it. Thus has he,—and many more of the same bevy that I know the drossy age dotes on,— only got the tune of the time and outward habit of encounter; a kind of yesty collection, which carries them through and through the most fanned and winnowed opinions; and do but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are out,
Ham. So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a suit of sables. O heavens! 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 suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose epitaph is 'For, O, for, O, the hobby-horse is forgot!'
Ham. He that plays the king shall be welcome,—his majesty shall have tribute of me; the adventurous knight shall use his foil and target; the lover shall not sigh gratis; the humorous man shall end his part in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickle o' the sere; and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt for't. What players are they?
Ham. O, reform it altogether. And let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them: for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too, though in the meantime some necessary question of the play be then to be considered: that's villanous and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go make you ready.
Ham. 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 nickname God's creatures, and make 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.
Ham. Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you;—though, I know, to divide him inventorially would dizzy the arithmetic of memory, and yet but yaw neither, in respect of his quick sail. But, in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of great article, and his infusion of such dearth and rareness as, to make true diction of him, his semblable is his mirror, and who else would trace him, his umbrage, nothing more.
Ham. Slanders, sir: for the satirical slave says here that old men have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber and plum-tree gum; and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams: all which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down; for you yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward.
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 there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Ham. Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst 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 at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves, all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your father?
Ham. No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: as thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam whereto he was converted might they not stop a beer-barrel? Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away. O, that that earth which kept the world in awe Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw! But soft! but soft! aside!—Here comes the king.
You are welcome, masters; welcome, all:—I am glad to see thee well.—welcome, good friends.—O, my old friend! Thy face is valanc'd since I saw thee last; comest thou to beard me in Denmark?—What, my young lady and mistress! By'r lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last, by the altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the ring.—Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en to't like French falconers, fly at anything we see: we'll have a speech straight: come, give us a taste of your quality: come, a passionate speech.
Ham. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief 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 passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows and noise: I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it out-herods Herod: pray you avoid it.
Ham. There's another: why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddits now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries: is this the fine of his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The very conveyances of his lands will scarcely lie in this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha?
Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once,—but it was never acted; or if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleased not the million, 'twas caviare to the general; but it was,—as I received it, and others, whose judgments in such matters cried in the top of mine,—an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savoury, nor no matter in the phrase that might indite the author of affectation; but called it an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech in it I chiefly loved: 'twas AEneas' tale to Dido, and thereabout of it especially where he speaks of Priam's slaughter: if it live in your memory, begin at this line;—let me see, let me see:—
Ham. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king and queen moult no feather. I have of late,—but wherefore I know not,—lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire,—why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving, how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me; no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
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'erstep not the modesty of nature: for anything 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 show virtue her own image, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now, this overdone, or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of the which one must in your allowance, o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players that I have seen play,—and heard others praise, and that highly,—not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.