HAMLET,

Ber. Long live the king!3

Fran.

Bernardo?

Ber.

He.

Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour.

Fran. For this relief much thanks: [Crosses to L.] 'tis bitter cold,

And I am sick at heart.

Ber. Have you had quiet guard?

Fran.

Not a mouse stirring.

Ber. Well, good night.

If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,

The rivals of my watch,4 bid them make haste.

Fran. I think I hear them.—Stand, ho! Who's there?

Hor. Friends to this ground.

Mar.

And liegemen to the Dane.5

Fran. Give you good night.

Mar.

O, farewell, honest soldier:

Who hath reliev'd you?

Fran. Bernardo hath my place.

Give you good night.

[Exit Francisco, L.H.]

Mar.

Holloa! Bernardo!

Ber.

Say,

What, is Horatio there?

Hor. (Crosses to C.) A piece of him.6

Ber. (R.) Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus.

Hor. What, has this thing appear'd again to-night?

Ber. I have seen nothing.

Mar. (L.) Horatio says, 'tis but our fantasy,

And will not let belief take hold of him,

Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us:

Therefore I have entreated him, along

With us, to watch the minutes of this night;7

That, if again this apparition come,

He may approve our eyes,8 and speak to it.

Hor. Tush! tush! 'twill not appear.

Ber. Come, let us once again assail your ears,

That are so fortified against our story,

What we two nights have seen.9

Hor. Well, let us hear Bernardo speak of this.

Ber. Last night of all,

When yon same star that's westward from the pole

Had made his course to illume that part of heaven

Where now it burns, Marcellus, and myself,

The bell then beating one—

9Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!

Ber. In the same figure, like the king that's dead.

Hor. Most like:—it harrows me with fear and wonder.10

Ber. It would be spoke to.

Mar. Speak to it, Horatio.

Hor. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of night,11

Together with that fair and warlike form

In which the majesty of buried Denmark

Did sometimes march? By heaven I charge thee, speak!

Mar. It is offended.

[Ghost crosses to R.]

Ber.

See! it stalks away!

Hor. Stay!—speak!—speak, I charge thee, speak!

Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer.

Ber. How now, Horatio! You tremble, and look pale:

Is not this something more than fantasy?

What think you of it?

Hor. Before heaven, I might not this believe,

Without the sensible and true avouch12

Of mine own eyes.

Mar.

Is it not like the king?

Hor. As thou art to thyself:

Such was the very armour he had on,

When he the ambitious Norway combated.

Mar. Thus, twice before, and jump at this dead hour,13

With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.

Hor. In what particular thought to work,14 I know not;

But in the gross and scope15 of mine opinion,

This bodes some strange eruption to our state.16

In the most high and palmy17 state of Rome,

A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,

The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead

Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets.

But, (L.C.) soft, behold! lo, where it comes again!

I'll cross it, though it blast me.

[Horatio crosses in front of the Ghost to R. Ghost crosses to L.]

Stay, illusion!

If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,18

Speak to me:

If there be any good thing to be done,

That may to thee do ease, and grace to me,

Speak to me:

If thou art privy to thy country's fate,

Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid,

O, speak!

O, if thou hast uphoarded in thy life

Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,19

For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,

Speak of it:—stay, and speak!

Mar. 'Tis gone!

We do it wrong, being so majestical,

To offer it the show of violence.

Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew.

Hor. And then it started like a guilty thing

Upon a fearful summons.20 I have heard,

The cock, that is the trumpet of the morn,

Doth with his lofty21 and shrill-sounding throat

Awake the god of day; and, at his warning,

Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,

The extravagant and erring spirit22 hies

To his confine.

But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,

Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill:

Break we our watch up; and, by my advice,

Let us impart what we have seen to-night

Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,

This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.

King. R.C. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death

The memory be green;24 and that it us befitted

To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom

To be contracted in one brow of woe;

Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature,

That we with wisest sorrow25 think on him,

Together with remembrance of ourselves.

Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,

The imperial jointress of this warlike state,

Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,26

Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr'd27

Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone

With this affair along:—For all, our thanks.

And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?

You told us of some suit; What is't, Laertes?

Laer. (R.)

My dread lord,

Your leave and favour28 to return to France;

From whence though willingly I came to Denmark,

To show my duty in your coronation,

Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,

My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France,

And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.

King. Have you your father's leave? What says Polonious?

Pol. (R.) He hath, my lord, (wrung from me my slow leave

By laboursome petition; and, at last,

Upon his will I sealed my hard consent):29

I do beseech you, give him leave to go.

King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine,

And thy best graces spend it at thy will!30

But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,——

Ham. (L.) A little more than kin, and less than kind.31

[Aside.]

13King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

Ham. Not so, my lord; I am too much i'the sun.32

Queen. (L.C.) Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour33 off,

And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.

Do not for ever with thy vailed lids34

Seek for thy noble father in the dust:

Thou know'st 'tis common, all that live must die,

Passing through nature to eternity.

Ham. Ay, madam, it is common.

Queen.

If it be,

Why seems it so particular with thee?

Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems.

'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,

Nor the dejected haviour of the visage,

No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,

Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief,

That can denote me truly: These, indeed, seem,

For they are actions that a man might play.

But I have that within which passeth show;35

These but the trappings36 and the suits of woe.

King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,

To give these mourning duties to your father:

But, you must know, your father lost a father;

That father lost, lost his;37 and the survivor bound,

In filial obligation, for some term

To do obsequious sorrow:38 But to perséver39

In obstinate condolement,40 is a course

Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief:

It shows a will most incorrect to Heaven.41

We pray you, throw to earth

This unprevailing42 woe; and think of us

As of a father: for let the world take note,

You are the most immediate to our throne;

Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.

Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet:

I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.

Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam.

King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply;

Be as ourself in Denmark.—Madam, come;

This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet

Sits smiling to my heart:43 in grace whereof,44

No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day,45

But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell;

Re-speaking earthly thunder.

Ham. O, that this too, too solid flesh would melt,

Thaw, and resolve itself46 into a dew!

Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd

His canon47 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!

How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable

Seem to me all the uses of this world!48

Fye on't! O fye! 'tis an unweeded garden,

That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature

Possess it merely.49 That it should come to this!

But two months dead!—nay, not so much, not two:

So excellent a king; that was, to this,

Hyperion to a satyr:50 so loving to my mother,

That he might not beteem51 the winds of heaven

Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!

Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,

As if increase of appetite had grown

By what it fed on: And yet, within a month,—

Let me not think on't,—Frailty, thy name is Woman!—

A little month; or ere those shoes were old

With which she follow'd my poor father's body,

Like Niobe, all tears;—she married with my uncle,

My father's brother; but no more like my father

Than I to Hercules.

It is not, nor it cannot come to, good:

But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue!

Hor. Hail to your lordship!

Ham.

I am glad to see you well:

Horatio,—or I do forget myself.

Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.

Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you:52

And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?—

Marcellus?

[Crosses to C.]

Mar. (R.) My good lord,—

16Ham. (C.) I am very glad to see you; good even, sir.

[To Bernardo, R.]

But what, in faith,53 make you54 from Wittenberg?55

Hor. (L.) A truant disposition, good my lord.

Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so;

Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,

To make it truster of your own report

Against yourself: I know you are no truant.

But what is your affair in Elsinore?

We'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.

Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.

Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student;

I think it was to see my mother's wedding.

Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.

Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd meats

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.

Would I had met my dearest foe56 in Heaven

Ere ever I had seen that day, Horatio!

My father,—Methinks, I see my father.

Hor.

Where,

My lord?

Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Hor. I saw him once; he was a goodly king.57

Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,

I shall not look upon his like again.

[Crosses to L.]

Hor. (C.) My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.

Ham. Saw who?

Hor. My lord, the king your father.

Ham.

The king my father!

Hor. Season your admiration for a while58

With an attent ear; till I may deliver,

Upon the witness of these gentlemen,

This marvel to you.

Ham.

For Heaven's love, let me hear.

Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,

Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,

In the dead waste and middle of the night,59

Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,

Arm'd at all points exactly, cap-à-pé,

Appears before them, and, with solemn march

Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd

By their oppress'd and fear-surprisèd eyes,

Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distill'd

Almost to jelly with the act of fear,60

Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me

In dreadful secrecy impart they did;

And I with them the third night kept the watch:

Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,

Form of the thing, each word made true and good,

The apparition comes.

Ham. But where was this?

[Crosses to Marcellus.]

Mar. (R.) My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.

Ham. (C.) Did you not speak to it?

Hor. (L.)

My lord, I did;

But answer made it none: yet once methought

It lifted up its head, and did address61

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 vanish'd from our sight.

Ham.

'Tis very strange.

Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true;

And we did think it writ down62 in our duty

To let you know of it.

18Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.

Hold you the watch to-night?

Mar.

We do, my lord.

Ham. Arm'd, say you?

Mar.

Arm'd, my lord.

Ham.

From top to toe?

Mar. My lord, from head to foot.

Ham.

Then saw you not

His face?

Hor.

O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.63

Ham. What, looked he frowningly?

Hor.

A countenance more

In sorrow than in anger.

Ham.

Pale or red?

Hor. Nay, very pale.

Ham.

And fix'd his eyes upon you?

Hor. Most constantly.

Ham.

I would I had been there.

Hor. It would have much amaz'd you.

Ham.

Very like,

Very like. Stay'd it long?

Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.

Hor. Not when I saw it.

Ham.

His beard was grizzl'd, No?

Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life,

A sable silver'd.

Ham.

I will watch to-night;

Perchance, 'twill walk again.

Hor. (C.)

I warrant it will.

Ham. If it assume my noble father's person,

I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape,

And bid me hold my peace. [Crosses to L.] I pray you all,

If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,

Let it be tenable64 in your silence still;

And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,

Give it an understanding, but no tongue;

I will requite your loves. So, fare you well:

Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,

I'll visit you.

Hor. (R.)

Our duty to your honour.

Ham. Your loves, as mine to you: Farewell.

[Exeunt Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo, R.H.]

My father's spirit in arms! all is not well;

I doubt some foul play: 'would the night were come;

Till then sit still, my soul: Foul deeds will rise,

Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.

[Exit, L.H.]

Laer. (L.C.) My necessaries are embarked: farewell:

And, sister, as the winds give benefit,65

Let me hear from you.

Oph. (R.C.)

Do you doubt that?

Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,66

Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;

A violet in the youth of primy nature,

Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,

The pérfume and suppliance of a minute.67

Oph. No more but so?

Laer. He may not, as unvalued persons do,

Carve for himself; for on his choice depends

The safety and the health of the whole state.

Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,

If with too credent ear you list his songs.

Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister;

And keep within the rear of your affection,68

Out of the shot and danger of desire.

The chariest maid69 is prodigal enough,

If she unmask her beauty to the moon:

Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes:

Be wary, then; best safety lies in fear:

Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

Oph. I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,

As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,

Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,

Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven

Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,70

Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,

And recks not his own read.71

Laer.

O, fear me not.

I stay too long;—but here my father comes.

Pol. Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame!

The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,72

And you are staid for. There,—my blessing with you!

[Laying his hand on Laertes' head.]

And these few precepts in thy memory—

Look thou charácter.73 Give thy thoughts no tongue, any unproportion'd thought74 his act.

Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.

The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,

Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel;

But do not dull thy palm with entertainment

Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware

Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,

Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee.

Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:

Take each man's censure,75 but reserve thy judgment.

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,

But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy:

For the apparel oft proclaims the man;

And they in France of the best rank and station

Are most select and generous, chief in that.76

Neither a borrower nor a lender be:

For loan oft loses both itself and friend;

And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.77

This above all,—To thine ownself be true;

And it must follow, as the night the day,

Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Farewell; my blessing season this in thee!78

Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.

[Crosses to L.]

Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well

What I have said to you.

Oph. (Crosses to Laertes.) 'Tis in my memory lock'd,

And you yourself shall keep the key of it.79

Laer. Farewell.

[Exit Laertes, L.H.]

Pol. What is it, Ophelia, he hath said to you?

Oph. So please you, something touching the lord Hamlet.

Pol. Marry, well bethought:

'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late

Given private time to you;80 and you yourself

Have of your audience been most free and bounteous:

If it be so (as so 'tis put on me,81

And that in way of caution), I must tell you,

You do not understand yourself so clearly

As it behoves my daughter, and your honour.

What is between82 you? give me up the truth.

Oph. He hath, my lord, of late, made many tenders

Of his affection to me.

Pol. Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl,

Unsifted83 in such perilous circumstance.

Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?

Oph. I do not know, my lord, what I should think.

Pol. Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby;

That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,

Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly;

Or, you'll tender me a fool.

Oph. My lord, he hath impórtun'd me with love

In honourable fashion.

Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.

Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,

With almost all the holy vows of heaven.

Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks.84 I do know,

When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul

Lends the tongue vows: This is for all,—

I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,

Have you so slander any leisure moment,85

As to give words or talk with the lord Hamlet.

Look to't, I charge you: come your ways.

Oph. I shall obey, my lord.

[Exeunt, R.H.]

Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.

Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air.86

23Ham. What hour now?

Hor.

I think it lacks of twelve.

Mar. No, it is struck.

Hor. (R.C.) Indeed? I heard it not: then it draws near the season,

Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.

[A Flourish of Trumpets, and Ordnance shot off without.]

What does this mean, my lord?

Ham. (L.C.) The king doth wake to-night,87 and takes his rouse,88

And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,

The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out

The triumph of his pledge.

Hor.

Is it a custom?

Ham. Ay, marry, is't: [Crosses to Horatio.]

But to my mind,—though I am native here,

And to the manner born,—it is a custom

More honour'd in the breach than the observance.

Enter Ghost (L.H.)

Hor. (R.H.) Look, my lord, it comes!

Ham. (C.) Angels and ministers of grace defend us!—

Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd,

Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,

Be thy intents wicked or charitable,

Thou com'st in such a questionable shape,89

That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee—Hamlet,

King, father: Royal Dane: O, answer me!

Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell

Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,90

Have burst their cerements;91 why the sepulchre,

Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd,

Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,

To cast thee up again! What may this mean,

That thou, dead corse, again, in cómplete steel,

Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon,

Making night hideous; and we fools of nature92

So horridly to shake our disposition93

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?

Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?

[Ghost beckons.]

Hor. It beckons you to go away with it,

As if it some impartment did desire

To you alone.

[Ghost beckons again.]

Mar. Look, with what courteous action

It waves you to a more removèd ground:94

But do not go with it.

Hor.

No, by no means.

Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it.

Hor. Do not, my lord.

Ham.

Why, what should be the fear?

I do not set my life at a pin's fee;95

And for my soul, what can it do to that,

Being a thing immortal as itself?

[Ghost beckons.]

It waves me forth again;—I'll follow it.

Hor. What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord,96

Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff

That beetles o'er his base into the sea,97

And there assume some other horrible form,

And draw you into madness?

[Ghost beckons.]

Ham.

It waves me still.—

Go on; I'll follow thee.

Ham.

Hold off your hands.

Hor. Be rul'd; you shall not go.

Ham.

My fate cries out,

And makes each petty artery in this body

As hardy as the Némean lion's nerve.98

[Ghost beckons]

Still am I call'd:—unhand me, gentlemen;

[Breaking from them.]

By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me:—99

I say, away!—Go on; I'll follow thee.

[Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet, L.H., followed at a distance by Horatio and Marcellus.]

Ham. (R.) Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak; I'll go no further.

Ghost. (L.) Mark me.

Ham.

I will.

Ghost.

My hour is almost come,

When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames

Must render up myself.

Ham.

Alas, poor ghost!

Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing

To what I shall unfold.

Ham.

Speak; I am bound to hear.

Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.

Ham. What?

Ghost. I am thy father's spirit;

Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,

And for the day confin'd to fast in fires,100

Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature

Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid

To tell the secrets of my prison-house,

I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word

Would harrow up thy soul;101 freeze thy young blood;

Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres;

Thy knotted and combinèd locks to part,

And each particular hair to stand on end,102

Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:103

But this eternal blazon104 must not be

To ears of flesh and blood.—List, list, O, list!—

If thou didst ever thy dear father love,——

Ham. O Heaven!

Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

Ham. Murder!

Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is;

But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.

Ham. Haste me to know it, that I, with wings as swift

As meditation or the thoughts of love,

May sweep to my revenge.

Ghost.

I find thee apt;

And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed

That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,105

Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:

'Tis given out that, sleeping in mine orchard,106

A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark

Is by a forged process107 of my death

Rankly abus'd: but know, thou noble youth,

The serpent that did sting thy father's life

Now wears his crown.

Ham. O, my prophetic soul! my uncle!

Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,

With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,

Won to his shameful lust

The will of my most seeming virtuous queen:

O, Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!

From me, whose love was of that dignity,

That it went hand in hand even with the vow

I made to her in marriage; and to decline

Upon a wretch,108 whose natural gifts were poor

To those of mine!

But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air;

Brief let me be.—Sleeping within mine orchard,

My custom always in the afternoon,

Upon my secure109 hour thy uncle stole,

With juice of cursed hebenon110 in a vial,

And in the porches of mine ears did pour

The leperous distilment; whose effect

Holds such an enmity with blood of man,

That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through

The natural gates and alleys of the body;

So did it mine;

Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand

Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despatch'd:111

Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,

Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd;112

No reckoning made, but sent to my account

With all my imperfections on my head.

Ham. O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!

Ghost. If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;

Let not the royal bed of Denmark be

A couch for luxury113 and damnèd incest.

But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act,

Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive

Against thy mother aught: leave her to Heaven,

And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,

To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!

The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,

And 'gins to pale his ineffectual fire:114

Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me.

[Exit, L.H.]

Ham. Hold, hold, my heart;

And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,

But bear me stiffly up.—Remember thee!

Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat

In this distracted globe.115 Remember thee!

Yea, from the table of my memory

I'll wipe away all forms, all pressures past,116

And thy commandment all alone shall live

Within the book and volume of my brain,

Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven,

I have sworn't.

Hor. (Without.) My lord, my lord,——

Mar. (Without.) Lord Hamlet,——

Hor. (Without.) Heaven secure him!

Ham.

So be it!

Mar. (Without.) Illo, ho, ho, my lord!

Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come.117

Mar. (R.) How is't, my noble lord?

Hor. (L.)

What news, my lord?

Ham. (C.) O, wonderful!

Hor.

Good my lord, tell it.

Ham.

No;

You will reveal it.

Hor. Not I, my lord, by heaven.

Mar.

Nor I, my lord.

Ham. How say you, then; would heart of man once think it?

But you'll be secret?—

Ham. There's ne'er a villain, dwelling in all Denmark—

But he's an arrant knave.118

Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave

To tell us this.

Ham. Why, right; you are in the right;

And so, without more circumstance at all,

I hold it fit that we shake hands, and part:

You as your business and desire shall point you,

For every man hath business and desire,

Such as it is;—and, for my own poor part,

Look you, I will go pray.

Hor. These are but wild and whirling words,119 my lord.

Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily.

Hor. There's no offence, my lord.

Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick,120 but there is, Horatio,

And much offence, too. Touching this vision here,

It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you:

For your desire to know what is between us,

O'er-master it121 as you may. And now, good friends,

As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,

Give me one poor request.

Hor.

What is't, my lord?

We will.

Ham. Never make known what you have seen to-night.

[Horatio and Marcellus again place their hands on Hamlet's sword.]

Heaven willing, shall not lack.125 Let us go in together;

[Crosses to L.]

And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.

The time is out of joint;—O cursèd spite,

That ever I was born to set it right!

Nay, come, let's go together.

[Exeunt L.H.]

Pol. How now, Ophelia! What's the matter?

Oph. O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!

Pol. With what, in the name of Heaven?

Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,

Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd;

Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other,

And with a look so piteous in purport,

He comes before me.

Pol. Mad for thy love?

Oph.

My lord, I do not know;

But, truly, I do fear it.

Pol.

What said he?

Oph. He took me by the wrist, and held me hard;

Then goes he to the length of all his arm;

And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,

He falls to such perusal of my face

As he would draw it. Long staid he so;

At last,—a little shaking of mine arm,

And thrice his head thus waving up and down,

He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound,

As it did seem to shatter all his bulk,2

And end his being: That done, he lets me go:

And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,

He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;

For out o'doors he went without their helps,

And, to the last, bended their light on me.

Pol. Come, go with me; I will go seek the king.

This is the very ecstacy of love;3

What, have you given him any hard words of late?

Oph. No, my good lord; but, as you did command,

I did repel his letters, and denied

His access to me.

Pol.

That hath made him mad.

Come, go we to the king:

This must be known; which, being kept close, might move

More grief to hide than hate to utter love.4

Come.

[Exeunt L.H.]

King. (C.) Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern!

Moreover that we much did long to see you,

The need we have to use you did provoke

Our hasty sending. Something have you heard

Of Hamlet's transformation. What it should be,

More than his father's death, that thus hath put him

So much from the understanding of himself,5

34I cannot dream of: I entreat you both,

That you vouchsafe your rest6 here in our court

Some little time: so by your companies

To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather,

Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus,

That, open'd, lies within our remedy.

Queen. (R.C.) Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you;

And sure I am two men there are not living

To whom he more adheres. If it will please you

So to expend your time with us a while,

Your visitation shall receive such thanks

As fits a king's remembrance.

Ros. (R.)

Both your majesties

Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,7

Put your dread pleasures more into command

Than to entreaty.

Guil. (R.)

But we both obey,

And here give up ourselves, in the full bent,8

To lay our service freely at your feet.

King. Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.

Queen. I do beseech you instantly to visit

My too much changèd son. Go, some of you,

And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.

[Exeunt Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Attendants, R.H.]

Pol. Now do I think (or else this brain of mine

Hunts not the trail of policy9 so sure

As it hath us'd to do), that I have found

The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.

King. (C.) O, speak of that; that do I long to hear.

Pol. (L.C.) My liege, and madam, to expostulate10

What majesty should be, what duty is,

Why day is day, night night, and time is time,

Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time;

Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,

And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,—

I will be brief:—Your noble son is mad:

Mad call I it; for, to define true madness,

What is't, but to be nothing else but mad?

But let that go.

Queen. (R.C.) More matter, with less art.

Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all.

That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity;

And pity 'tis, 'tis true: a foolish figure;

But farewell it, for I will use no art.

Mad let us grant him, then: and now remains

That we find out the cause of this effect,

Or, rather say, the cause of this defect,

For this effect defective comes by cause:

Thus it remains, and the remainder thus,

Perpend.11

I have a daughter, have, while she is mine,

Who, in her duty and obedience, mark,

Hath given me this: Now gather, and surmise.

[Reads] To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified Ophelia,—12

That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase, beautified is a vile phrase: but you shall hear. Thus:

In her excellent white bosom,13 these, &c.14

Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her?

This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me:

And more above,18 hath his solicitings,19

As they fell out by time, by means, and place,

All given to my ear.

King.

But how hath she

Receiv'd his love?

Pol. What do you think of me?

King. As of a man faithful and honourable.

Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might you think,

When I had seen this hot love on the wing

(As I perceived it, I must tell you that,

Before my daughter told me), what might you,

Or my dear majesty your queen here, think,

If I had play'd the desk or table book;20

Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb;21

Or look'd upon this love with idle sight;22

What might you think? No, I went round to work,23

And my young mistress thus did I bespeak:

Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy sphere;

This must not be: and then I precepts gave her,

That she should lock herself from his resort,

Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.

Which done, she took the fruits of my advice;24

And he, repuls'd (a short tale to make),

Fell into sadness; thence into a weakness;

Thence to a lightness; and, by this declension,

Into the madness wherein now he raves,

And all we mourn for.

King.

Do you think 'tis this?

Queen. It may be, very likely.

Pol. Hath there been such a time (I'd fain know that,)

That I have positively said, 'tis so,

When it proved otherwise?

King.

Not that I know.

Pol. Take this from this, if it be otherwise:

[Pointing to his head and shoulder.]

If circumstances lead me, I will find

Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed

Within the centre.

King.

How may we try it further?

Pol. You know, sometimes he walks for hours together

Here in the lobby.

Queen.

So he does, indeed.

Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him:

Mark the encounter: if he love her not,

And be not from his reason fallen thereon,

Let me be no assistant for a state,

But keep a farm, and carters.

King.

We will try it.

Queen. But, look, where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.

Pol. Away, I do beseech you both, away:

I'll board him presently.25

The rugged Pyrrhus,—he, whose sable arms,

Black as his purpose, did the night resemble,

Old grandsire Priam seeks.

1st Play. (L.) Anon he finds him

Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword,

Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,

Repugnant to command: Unequal match'd,

Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide;

But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword61

The unnerved father falls.

But, as we often see, against some storm,

A silence in the heavens, the rack62 stand still,

The bold wind speechless, and the orb below

As hush as death; anon the dreadful thunder

Doth rend the region; So, after Pyrrhus' pause,

A roused vengeance sets him new a work;

And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall

On Mars's armour, forg'd for proof eterne,

With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword

Now falls on Priam.—

Out, out, thou fickle Fortune!

1st Play. But who, ah woe, had seen the mobled queen—

1st Play. Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames;

A clout upon that head

Where late the diadem stood; and, for a robe,

A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up;

Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd,

'Gainst fortune's state would treason have pronounced.

Now I am alone.

O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!

Is it not monstrous, that this player here,

But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,

Could force his soul so to his own conceit,

That, from her working, all his visage wann'd;64

Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,

A broken voice, and his whole function suiting

With forms to his conceit?65 And all for nothing!

For Hecuba?

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,

That he should weep for her? What would he do,

Had he the motive and the cue66 for passion

That I have? He would drown the stage with tears,

And cleave the general ear with horrid speech;

Make mad the guilty, and appal the free;

Confound the ignorant, and amaze, indeed,

The very faculties of eyes and ears.

Yet I,

A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,

Like John a-dreams,67 unpregnant of my cause,68

And can say nothing; no, not for a king,

Upon whose property and most dear life

A damn'd defeat was made.69 Am I a coward?

Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?

Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?

Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i'the throat,

As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this,

Ha?

Why, I should take it: for it cannot be

But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall

To make oppression bitter;70 or, ere this,

I should have fatted all the region kites

With this slave's offal: Bloody, bawdy villain!

Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless71 villain!

O, vengeance!

Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,

That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,

Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,

Must, like a scold, unpack my heart with words,

And fall a cursing, like a very drab,

A scullion!

Fye upon't! fye! About, my brains!72 I have heard

That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,

Have by the very cunning of the scene

Been struck so to the soul, that presently

They have proclaim'd their malefactions;

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak

With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players

Play something like the murder of my father

Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;

I'll tent him to the quick:73 if he do blench,74

I know my course. The spirit that I have seen

May be the devil: and the devil hath power

To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and, perhaps

Out of my weakness and my melancholy

(As he is very potent with such spirits),

Abuses me to damn me: I'll have good grounds

More relative than this:75 The play's the thing

Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.

King. (C.) And can you, by no drift of conference,

Get from him why he puts on this confusion?

Ros. (R.) He does confess he feels himself distracted;

But from what cause he will by no means speak.

Guild. (R.) Nor do we find him forward1 to be sounded

But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof,

When we would bring him on to some confession

Of his true state.

Queen. (R.C.) Did you assay him2

To any pastime?

Ros. Madam, it so fell out, that certain players

We o'er-raught on the way:3 of these we told him;

And there did seem in him a kind of joy

To hear of it: They are about the court;

And, as I think, they have already order

This night to play before him.

Pol.

'Tis most true:

And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties

To hear and see the matter.

King. With all my heart; and it doth much content me

To hear him so inclin'd.

Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,

And drive his purpose on to these delights.

Ros. We shall, my lord.

[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, R.H.]

50 King.

Sweet Gertrude, leave us too;

For we have closely sent4 for Hamlet hither,

That he, as 'twere by accident, may here

Affront Ophelia:5

Her father and myself (lawful espials6),

Will so bestow ourselves, that, seeing, unseen,

We may of their encounter frankly judge;

And gather by him, as he is behaved,

If't be the affliction of his love or no

That thus he suffers for.

Queen. (R.)

I shall obey you:

And for your part, Ophelia,

[Ophelia comes down L.H.]

I do wish

That your good beauties be the happy cause

Of Hamlet's wildness: so shall I hope your virtues

Will bring him to his wonted way again,

To both your honours.

Oph.

Madam, I wish it may.

[Exit Queen, R.H.]

Pol. Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious, so please you,

We will bestow ourselves. Read on this book;

[To Ophelia.]

That show of such an exercise may colour

Your loneliness. We are oft to blame in this,—

'Tis too much prov'd,7 that, with devotion's visage

And pious action, we do sugar o'er

The devil himself.

King.

O, 'tis too true! how smart

A lash that speech doth give my conscience! [Aside.]

Pol. I hear him coming: let's withdraw, my lord.

Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the question:8

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,9

And, by opposing end them?—To die,—to sleep,

No more;—and by a sleep, to say we end

The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wished. To die,—to sleep,—

To sleep! perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,10

Must give us pause:11 There's the respect12

That makes calamity of so long life;

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,13

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,14

The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,

The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of the unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make15

With a bare bodkin?16 Who would fardels bear,17

To groan and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscovered country, from whose bourn18

No traveller returns,19 puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus, conscience does make cowards of us all;20

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;

And enterprises of great pith and moment,21

With this regard, their currents turn away,

And lose the name of action.22 [—Ophelia returns.—] Soft you now!23

The fair Ophelia:—Nymph, in thy orisons24

Be all my sins remember'd.

Oph. (R.C.)

Good my lord,

How does your honour for this many a day?

Ham. (L.C.) I humbly thank you; well.

Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours,

That I have longèd long to re-deliver;

I pray you, now receive them.

Ham.

No, not I;

I never gave you aught.

Oph. My honour'd lord, you know right well you did;

And, with them, words of so sweet breath compos'd

As made the things more rich: their perfume lost,

Take these again; for to the noble mind

Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

There, my lord.

Oph. (L.) O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!

The expectancy and rose of the fair state,36

The glass of fashion37 and the mould of form,38

The observ'd of all observers, quite, quite down!

And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,

That suck'd the honey of his musick vows,39

Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,

Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh:

O, woe is me,

To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!

[Exit Ophelia, L.H.]

King. Love! his affections do not that way tend;

Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little,

Was not like madness. There's something in his soul,

O'er which his melancholy sits on brood;

He shall with speed to England,

For the demand of our neglected tribute:

Haply, the seas, and countries different,

With variable objects, shall expel

This something-settled matter in his heart;

Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus

From fashion of himself. What think you on't?

Pol. It shall do well: But yet I do believe

The origin and commencement of his grief

Sprung from neglected love. My lord, do as you please;

But, if you hold it fit, after the play,

Let his queen mother all alone entreat him

To show his grief: let her be round with him;40

And I'll be placed, so please you, in the ear

Of all their conference. If she find him not,41

To England send him; or confine him where

Your wisdom best shall think.

King.

It shall be so:

Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go.

58 Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man

As e'er my conversation cop'd withal.57

Ham.

Nay, do not think I flatter;

For what advancement may I hope from thee,

That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits,

To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd?

No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp;

And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,58

Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?

Since my dear soul59 was mistress of her choice,

And could of men distinguish, her election

Hath seal'd thee for herself: for thou hast been

As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing;

A man that fortune's buffets and rewards

Has ta'en with equal thanks: and bless'd are those

Whose blood and judgment60 are so well co-mingled,

That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger

To sound what stop she please. Give me that man

That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him

In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,

As I do thee.—Something too much of this.—

There is a play to-night before the king;

One scene of it comes near the circumstance

Which I have told thee of my father's death:

I pr'ythee when thou seest that act a-foot,

Even with the very comment of thy soul61

Observe my uncle: if his occulted guilt62

Do not itself unkennel in one speech,

It is a damned ghost that we have seen;

And my imaginations are as foul

As Vulcan's stithy.63 Give him heedful note:

For I mine eyes will rivet to his face;

And, after, we will both our judgments join

In censure of his seeming.64

P. King. (R.) Full thirty times hath Phœbus' cart76 gone round

Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbèd ground,77

Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands,

Unite commutual in most sacred bands.

P. Queen. (L.) So many journeys may the sun and moon

Make us again count o'er ere love be done!

But, woe is me, you are so sick of late,

So far from cheer and from your former state,

That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,

Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must.

P. King. 'Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too;

My operant powers their functions leave to do:78

And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,

Honour'd, belov'd; and, haply one as kind

For husband shalt thou——

P. Queen.

O, confound the rest!

Such love must needs be treason in my breast:

In second husband let me be accurst!

None wed the second but who kill'd the first.

P. King. I do believe you think what now you speak;

But what we do determine oft we break.79

So think you thou wilt no second husband wed;

But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.

62P. Queen. Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light!

Sport and repose lock from me day and night!

Both here, and hence, pursue me lasting strife,

If, once a widow, ever I be wife!

P. King. 'Tis deeply sworn.

P. King. Sweet, leave me here awhile;

My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile

The tedious day with sleep.

[Reposes on a bank, R., and sleeps.]

P. Queen.

Sleep rock thy brain;

And never come mischance between us twain!

[Exit, L.H.]

—— The croaking raven

Doth bellow for revenge.88

Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;

Confederate season, else no creature seeing;

Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds89 collected,

With Hecat's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,

Thy natural magick and dire property,

On wholesome life usurp90 immediately.

[Pours the poison into the Sleeper's Ears.]

'Tis now the very witching time of night,

When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out

Contagion to this world: Now could I drink hot blood,

And do such bitter business106 as the day

Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother.

O, heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever

The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom:

Let me be cruel, not unnatural;

I will speak daggers to her, but use none.

[Exit]

King. I like him not; nor stands it safe with us107

To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you;

I your commission will forthwith despatch,

And he to England shall along with you:

Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage;

For we will fetters put upon this fear,108

Which now goes too free-booted.

Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet:

Behind the arras I'll convey myself,109

To hear the process;110 I'll warrant, she'll tax him home:

And, as you said, and wisely was it said,

'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother,

Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear

The speech of vantage.111 Fare you well, my liege:

[Polonius crosses to L.H.]

I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,

And tell you what I know.

King.

Thanks, dear my lord.

[Exeunt Polonius, L.H., and King, R.H.]

Pol. He will come straight. Look, you lay home to him:112

Tell him his pranks have been too broad113 to bear with,

And that your grace hath screen'd and stood between

Much heat and him. I'll sconce me even here.114

Pray you, be round with him.

Queen.

I'll warrant you;

Fear me not:—withdraw, I hear him coming.

[Polonius hides himself, L.H.U.E.]

Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet!

Ham.

What's the matter now?

Queen. Have you forgot me?

Ham.

No, by the rood,115 not so:

You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife;

And—would it were not so!—you are my mother.

Queen. Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak.

Ham. Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge;

You go not till I set you up a glass

Where you may see the inmost part of you.

Queen. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me?

Help, help, ho!

Pol. (Behind.) What, ho! help!

Ham.

How now! a rat?116

[Draws.]

Dead, for a ducat, dead!

[Hamlet rushes off behind the arras.]

Pol. (Behind.)

O, I am slain!

[Falls and dies.]

Queen. O me, what hast thou done?

Ham. (Returning.)

Nay, I know not:

Is it the king?

70Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!

Ham. A bloody deed!—almost as bad, good mother,

As kill a king, and marry with his brother.

Queen. As kill a king!

Ham.

Ay, lady, 'twas my word.

Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!

I took thee for thy better.

Leave wringing of your hands: Peace; sit you down,

[To the Queen.]

And let me wring your heart: for so I shall,

If it be made of penetrable stuff;

If damnèd custom have not brazed it so,117

That it be proof and bulwark against sense.118

Queen. (Sits R.C.) What have I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tongue

In noise so rude against me?

Ham. (Seated L.C.)

Such an act,

That blurs the grace and blush of modesty;

Calls virtue, hypocrite; takes off the rose

From the fair forehead of an innocent love,

And sets a blister there;119 makes marriage vows

As false as dicer's oaths: O, such a deed

As from the body of contraction plucks

The very soul;120 and sweet religion makes

A rhapsody of words.—

Ah, me, that act!

Queen.

Ah me, what act?

Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and on this,

The counterfeit presentment121 of two brothers.

See, what a grace was seated on this brow;

Hypérion's curls;122 the front of Jove himself;

An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;

A station like the herald Mercury123

New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;

A combination, and a form, indeed,

Where every god did seem to set his seal,

To give the world assurance of a man;

This was your husband.—Look you now, what follows:

Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear,

Blasting his wholesome brother.124 Have you eyes?

Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,

And batten on this moor?125 Ha! have you eyes?

You cannot call it love; for, at your age

The hey-day in the blood126 is tame, it's humble,

And waits upon the judgment: And what judgment

Would step from this to this?

O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,

If thou canst mutine,127 in a matron's bones,

To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,

And melt in her own fire.

Queen. O, Hamlet, speak no more:

Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul;

And there I see such black and grainèd spots

As will not leave their tinct.128

Ham.

Nay, but to live

In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,——129

Queen. O, speak to me no more;

No more, sweet Hamlet!

Ham.

A murderer and a villain:

A slave that is not twentieth part the tythe

Of your precedent lord;—a vice of kings;130

A cutpurse of the empire and the rule;

That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,

And put it in his pocket!131

Queen.

No more!

Ham.

A king

Of shreds and patches.132

Enter Ghost, R.

Save me [Starts from his chair], and hover o'er me with your wings,

You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?

Queen. Alas, he's mad!

[Rising.]

Ham. (L.) Do you not come your tardy son to chide,

That, laps'd in time and passion,133 lets go by

The important acting of your dread command?

O, say!

Ghost. (R.) Do not forget: This visitation

Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.

But, look, amazement on thy mother sits:

O, step between her and her fighting soul.

Speak to her Hamlet.

Ham.

How is it with you, lady?

73Queen. Alas, how is't with you,

That you do bend your eye on vacancy,

And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?

Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep.

O gentle son,

[Crosses to Hamlet.]

Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper

Sprinkle cool patience.134 Whereon do you look?

Ham. On him, on him!—Look you, how pale he glares!

His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,

Would make them capable.135 Do not look upon me;

Lest with this piteous action, you convert

My stern effects:136 then what I have to do

Will want true colour; tears perchance, for blood.

Queen. To whom do you speak this?

Ham.

Do you see nothing there?

Queen. Nothing at all; yet all that is, I see.137

Ham. Nor did you nothing hear?

Queen.

No, nothing but ourselves.

Ham. Why, look you there! look, how it steals away!

[Ghost crosses to L.]

My father in his habit as he lived!138

Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal!

[Exit Ghost, L.H. Hamlet sinks into chair C. The Queen falls on her knees by his side.]

Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain:

This bodiless creation ecstasy

Is very cunning in.139

74Ham. Ecstasy!

My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,

And makes as healthful music: It is not madness

That I have uttered: bring me to the test,

And I the matter will re-word; which madness

Would gambol from.140 Mother, for love of grace,

[Rising.]

Lay not that flattering unction to your soul,

That not your trespass, but my madness speaks:

It will but skin and film141 the ulcerous place,

Whiles rank corruption, mining all within,

Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;

Repent what's past; avoid what is to come.

Queen. O, Hamlet! thou hast cleft my heart in twain.

Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it,

And live the purer with the other half.

Good night: but go not to my uncle's bed;

[Raising the Queen.]

Assume a virtue, if you have it not.

Once more, good night!

And when you are desirous to be bless'd,

I'll blessing beg of you.142 For this same lord,

[Pointing to Polonius.]

I do repent:

I will bestow him, and will answer well

The death I gave him. So, again, good night.

[Exit Queen, R.H.]

I must be cruel, only to be kind:

Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.

[Exit Hamlet behind the arras, L.H.U.E.]

King. There's matter in these sighs, these profound heaves:

You must translate:1 'tis fit we understand them.

How does Hamlet?

Queen. Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend

Which is the mightier: In his lawless fit,

Behind the arras hearing something stir,

Whips out his rapier, cries A rat, a rat!

And, in this brainish apprehension,2 kills

The unseen good old man.

King.

O heavy deed!

It had been so with us, had we been there:

Where is he gone?

Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd.

King. The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch,

But we will ship him hence: and this vile deed

We must, with all our majesty and skill,

Both countenance and excuse.—Ho, Guildenstern!

Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (L.H.)

Friends both, go join you with some further aid:

Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain,

And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him:

Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body

Into the chapel.

[Rosencrantz and Guildenstern cross to R.]

I pray you, haste in this.

[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, R.H.]

Go, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends;

And let them know, both what we mean to do,

And what's untimely done.

[Exit Queen, R.C.]

How dangerous is it that this man goes loose!

Yet must not we put the strong law on him:

He's lov'd of the distracted multitude,

Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes;

And where 'tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd,

But never the offence.3

Enter Rosencrantz (R.)

How now! what hath befallen?

Ros. Where the dead body is bestowed, my lord,

We cannot get from him.

King.

But where is he?

Ros. Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure.

King. Bring him before us.

Ros. Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord.

77Ham. He will stay till you come.

[Exit Guildenstern, R.H.]

King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,

Must send thee hence:

Therefore prepare thyself;

The bark is ready, and the wind at help,5

For England.

Ham.

For England!

King.

Ay, Hamlet.

Ham.

Good.

King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes.

Ham. I see a cherub that sees them. But, come; for England!—Farewell, dear mother.

King. Thy loving father, Hamlet.

King. Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard;

Away! for everything is seal'd and done.

[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Attendants, R.H.]

And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,

Thou may'st not coldly set6

Our sovereign process;7 which imports at full,

By letters conjuring to that effect,8

The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England;

For thou must cure me: 'Till I know 'tis done,

Howe'er my haps,9 my joys will ne'er begin.

Queen. —— I will not speak with her.

Hor. She is importunate; indeed, distract:

'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew

Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.

Queen. Let her come in.

King. Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you.

[Exit Horatio, through centre R.]

O! this is the poison of deep grief; it springs

All from her father's death.

O, Gertrude, Gertrude,

When sorrows come, they come not single spies,

But in battalions!

King. What is the matter?

Mar.

Save yourself, my lord:

The young Laertes, in a riotous head,16

O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him lord;

They cry, Choose we: Laertes shall be king!

Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds,

Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!

[Noise within, R.C.]

Laer. Where is this king?—Sirs, stand you all without.

Dan. No, let's come in.

80Laer.

I pray you, give me leave.

Dan. We will, we will.

[They retire without, R.H.]

Laer. O, thou vile king,

Give me my father.

Queen (Interposing.) Calmly, good Laertes.

Laer. (R.) That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard;

Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot

Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow

Of my true mother.17

King. (L.) What is the cause, Laertes,

That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?

Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person:

There's such divinity doth hedge a king,18

That treason can but peep to what it would,

Acts little of his will.

Let him go, Gertrude.

[Queen obeys.]

Laer. Where is my father?

King.

Dead.

Queen.

But not by him.

King. Let him demand his fill.

Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with:

To hell, allegiance! To this point I stand,

That both the worlds I give to negligence,19

Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd

Most throughly for my father.

King.

Who shall stay you!

Laer. My will, not all the world's:20

And, for my means, I'll husband them so well,

They shall go far with little.

King.

Good Laertes,

That I am guiltless of your father's death,

And am most sensible in grief21 for it,

It shall as level to your judgment 'pear

As day does to your eye.

Laer. (Goes up L.C.) O rose of May!

Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!

O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits

Should be as mortal as an old man's life?

Oph. (R.C.)

They bore him barefac'd on the bier;

And on his grave rain many a tear,—

Fare you well, my dove!

Laer. (Coming down R) Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,

It could not move thus.

Laer. (R.) Thought and affliction,32 passion, hell itself, She turns to favour and to prettiness.

83King. (L.C.) Laertes, I must commune with your grief,33

Or you deny me right.

Be you content to lend your patience to us,

And we shall jointly labour with your soul

To give it due content.

Laer. (R.C.)

Let this be so;

His means of death, his obscure funeral,—

No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,34

No noble rite nor formal ostentation,—

Cry to be heard,35 as 'twere from heaven to earth,

That I must call't in question.

King.

So you shall;

And where the offence is let the great axe fall.36

How now! what news?

Ber. (C.)

Letters, my lord, from Hamlet:

This to your majesty; this to the Queen.

King. From Hamlet! who brought them?

Ber. Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not.

King.

Laertes, you shall hear them.—

Leave us.

[Exit, L.H.C.]

What should this mean? Are all the rest come back?

Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?

Laer. (R.) Know you the hand?

King. (L.) 'Tis Hamlet's character:38 Naked,—

And in a postscript here, he says, alone.

Can you advise me?

Laer. I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come;

It warms the very sickness in my heart,

That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,

Thus diddest thou.

King.

If it be so, Laertes,

Will you be rul'd by me?

Laer.

Ay, my lord;

So you will not o'er-rule me to a peace.

King. To thine own peace.

Some two months since,

Here was a gentleman of Normandy,

He made confession of39 you;

And gave you such a masterly report,

For art and exercise in your defence,40

And for your rapier most especially,

That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed,

If one could match you: this report of his

Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy,

That he could nothing do but wish and beg

Your sudden coming o'er, to play with you.

Now, out of this,——

Laer.

What out of this, my lord?

King. Laertes, was your father dear to you?

Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,

A face without a heart?

Laer.

Why ask you this?

King. Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home:

We'll put on those shall praise your excellence,

And set a double varnish on the fame

The Frenchman gave you; bring you, in fine, together,

And wager o'er your heads; he, being remiss,41

Most generous, and free from all contriving,

Will not peruse the foils:42 so that, with ease,

Or with a little shuffling, you may choose

A sword unbated,43 and, in a pass of practice,44

Requite him for your father.

Laer.

I will do't:

And, for the purpose, I'll anoint my sword.

I bought an unction of a mountebank,

So mortal, that but dip a knife in it,

Where it draws blood no cataplasm45 so rare,

Collected from all simples46 that have virtue

Under the moon, can save the thing from death

That is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point

With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,

It may be death.

King. (L.) Let's further think of this;

We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings,47

When in your motion48 you are hot and dry,

(As make your bouts more violent to that end,)

And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepared him

A chalice for the nonce;49 whereon but sipping,

If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,50

Our purpose may hold there. But stay, what noise?

Queen. (C.) One woe doth tread upon another's heel,

So fast they follow: Your sister's drown'd, Laertes.

Laer. (R.) Drown'd! O, where?

Queen. There is a willow grows aslant a brook,

That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;

Therewith fantastick garlands did she make

Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples;51

There, on the pendent boughs her cornet weeds

Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;

When down her weedy trophies, and herself,

Fell in the weeping brook.

Laer. I forbid my tears: But yet

It is our trick:52 nature her custom holds,

Let shame say what it will: when these are gone,

The woman will be out.53

Adieu, my lord:

I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze,

But that this folly drowns it.54

[Exeunt. C.]

Imperial Cæsar,28 dead and turn'd to clay,

Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:

O, that the earth, which kept the world in awe,

Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw!29

But soft! but soft! aside: Here comes the king,

The queen, the courtiers: Who is this they follow?

And with such maimèd rites?30 This doth betoken

The corse they follow did with desperate hand

Fordo its own life:31 'Twas of some estate.32

Couch we awhile, and mark.

Laer. (L. of the grave.) What ceremony else?

Ham. (R.)

That is Laertes,

A very noble youth.

1st Priest. (R. of the grave.) Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd

As we have warranty: Her death was doubtful;

And, but that great command o'ersways the order,33

She should in ground unsanctified have lodged

Till the last trumpet; for charitable prayers,

Shards,34 flints, and pebbles, should be thrown on her:

Yet here she is allowed her virgin crants,35

Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home

Of bell and burial.36

Laer. Must there no more be done?

1st Priest.

No more be done:

We should profane the service of the dead

To sing a requiem,37 and such rest to her

As to peace-parted souls.

Laer. O, from her fair and unpolluted flesh

May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest,38

A ministering angel shall my sister be,

When thou liest howling.

Ham.

What, the fair Ophelia!

Queen. (Behind the grave, C. with the King.)

Sweets to the sweet: Farewell!

[Scattering flowers.]

I hop'd thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife;

I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,

And not have strew'd thy grave.

Laer.

O, treble woe

Fall ten times treble on that cursed head,

Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense39

Depriv'd thee of!—Hold off the earth a while,

Till I have caught her once more in mine arms:

[Leaps into the grave.]

Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead,

Till of this flat a mountain you have made,

To o'ertop old Pelion,40 or the skyish head

Of blue Olympus.

Ham. (Advancing.) What is he whose grief

Bears such an emphasis?—whose phrase of sorrow

Conjures the wand'ring stars, and makes them stand

Like wonder-wounded hearers?—this is I,

Hamlet the Dane.

Laer. (L., leaping from the grave.) The devil take thy soul!

[Grappling with him.]

Ham. (R.C.) Thou pray'st not well.

I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat;

For, though I am not splenetive and rash,

Yet have I in me something dangerous,

Which let thy wisdom fear: Hold off thy hand!

King. Pluck them asunder.

Queen. (C.)

Hamlet, Hamlet!

Ham. (R.C.) Why, I will fight with him upon this theme

Until my eyelids will no longer wag.

Queen. O my son, what theme?

Ham. I lov'd Ophelia: forty thousand brothers

Could not, with all their quantity of love,

Make up my sum.—What wilt thou do for her?

Queen. O, he is mad, Laertes.

Ham. Come, show me what thou'lt do:

Wou'lt weep? wou'lt fight? wou'lt fast? wou'lt tear thyself?

I'll do't.—Dost thou come here to whine?

To outface me41 with leaping in her grave?

Be buried quick with her, and so will I:

And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw

Millions of acres on us, till our ground,42

Singeing his pate against the burning zone,

Make Ossa43 like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,

I'll rant as well as thou.

Queen.

This is mere madness:

And thus a while the fit will work on him;

Anon, as patient as the female dove,

When that her golden couplets are disclos'd,44

His silence will sit drooping.

96Ham.

Hear you, sir;

What is the reason that you use me thus?

I lov'd you ever: But it is no matter;

Let Hercules himself do what he may,

The cat will mew,45 and dog will have his day.

[Exit, R.H.]

King. (C.) I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him.

[Exit Horatio, R.H.]

Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son,

[Exit Queen, attended, R.H.]

Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech;46

[To Laertes.]

We'll put the matter to the present push.—

This grave shall have a living monument:47

An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;

Till then, in patience our proceeding be.

[The characters group round the grave.]

Ham. But I am very sorry, good Horatio,

That to Laertes I forgot myself;

For by the image of my cause,48 I see

The portraiture of his.

Hor.

Peace! who comes here?

King. Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me.

Ham. (offering his hand to Laertes)

Give me your pardon, sir: I have done you wrong;

But pardon it, as you are a gentleman.

Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil

Free me so far in your most generous thoughts,

That I have shot my arrow o'er the house,

And hurt my brother.

Laer. (R.)

I am satisfied in nature,

Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most

To my revenge.

I do receive your offer'd love like love,

And will not wrong it.

Ham.

I embrace it freely:

And will this brother's wager frankly play.

Give us the foils.

Laer.

Come, one for me.

Ham. I'll be your foil, Laertes: in mine ignorance

Your skill shall, like a star i'the darkest night,

Stick fiery off indeed.68

Laer.

You mock me, sir.

Ham. No, by this hand.

King. Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet,

You know the wager?

Ham.

Very well, my lord;

Your grace hath laid the odds o'the weaker side.

King. I do not fear it; I have seen you both:

But since he's better'd,69 we have therefore odds.

101 Laer. This is too heavy, let me see another.

Ham. This likes me well. These foils have all a length?

Osr. Ay, my good lord.

King. Set me the stoups of wine70 upon that table.—

[Pages exeunt R. and L.]

If Hamlet give the first or second hit,

Or quit71 in answer to the third exchange,

Let all the battlements their ordnance fire;

The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath;

And in the cup an union shall he throw,72

Richer than that which four successive kings

In Denmark's crown have worn.

Pages return with wine.

Give me the cup;

And let the kettle73 to the trumpet speak,

The trumpet to the cannoneer without,

The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth,

Now the king drinks to Hamlet.—Come, begin;

And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.

Ham. Come on, sir.

Laer.

Come, my lord.

[They play.]

Ham.

One.

Laer.

No.

Ham.

Judgment.

Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit.

Laer.

Well:—again.

King. Stay; give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine;

[Drops poison into the goblet.]

Here's to thy health.

[Pretends to drink.]

[Trumpets sound; and cannon shot off within.]

Give him the cup.

102Ham. I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile.

[Page places the goblet on table, L.]

Come.

Another hit; What say you?

[They play.]

Laer. A touch, a touch, I do confess.

King. Our son shall win.

Queen. The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.74

Ham. Good madam!——

[Trumpets sound.]

King.

Gertrude, do not drink.

Queen. I have, my lord; I pray you, pardon me.

King. It is the poison'd cup; it is too late.

[Aside.]

Laer. I'll hit him now

And yet it is almost against my conscience.

[Aside.]

Ham. Come, for the third, Laertes: You do but dally;

I pray you, pass with your best violence;

I am afeard you make a wanton of me.75

Laer. Say you so? come on.

[They play.]

[Laertes wounds Hamlet; then, in scuffling they change Rapiers, and Hamlet wounds Laertes.]

King.

Part them; they are incensed.

Ham. Nay, come, again.

[The Queen falls back in her chair.]

Osr. (Supporting Laertes, R.) Look to the queen there, ho!

Hor. (Supporting Hamlet, L.) How is it, my lord?

Osr. How is't, Laertes?

Laer. Why, as a woodcock to my own springe,76 Osric;

I am justly killed with mine own treachery.

Ham. How does the queen?

King.

She swoons to see them bleed.

Queen. No, no, the drink, the drink,—O, my dear Hamlet,—

The drink, the drink! I am poison'd.

103Ham. O villainy! Ho! let the doors be lock'd:

Treachery! seek it out.

[Laertes falls.]

Laer. (R.) It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain;

No medicine in the world can do thee good,

In thee there is not half an hour's life;

The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,

Unbated and envenom'd:77 the foul practice78

Hath turn'd itself on me; lo, here I lie,

Never to rise again: Thy mother's poison'd:

I can no more: the king, the king's to blame.

Ham. The point

Envenom'd too! Then, venom, to thy work.

Here, thou incestuous, murd'rous, damnèd Dane,

Follow my mother.

[Stabs the King, who is borne away by his attendants, mortally wounded, R.H.U.E.]

Laer.

He is justly serv'd;

Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet:

Mine and my father's death come not upon thee,

Nor thine on me!

[Dies.]

Ham. (C.) Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.

You that look pale and tremble at this chance,

That are but mutes or audience to this act,

Had I but time (as this fell sergeant, death,79

Is strict in his arrest), O, I could tell you,—

But let it be. Horatio,

Report me and my cause aright

To the unsatisfied.

Hor. (L.)

Never believe it:

I am more an antique Roman than a Dane:

Here's yet some liquor left.

[Seizing the goblet on table, L.]

Ham.

As thou'rt a man,—

Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have it.

[Dashes the goblet away.]

O good Horatio, what a wounded name,

Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me!80

If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,

Absènt thee from felicity awhile,

And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,

To tell my story.—

O, I die, Horatio;

The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit;81

The rest is silence.

[Dies, C., Osric on his R., and Horatio on his L.]