Sivut kuvina

Each sinall annexment, petty consequence,
Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone
Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.
King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voy-
For we will fetters put upon this fear, [age;
Which now goes too free-booted.

Ros. & Guil. We will haste us.

[exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Enter Polonius.

Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet; Behind the arras I'll convey myself,

To hear the process; I'll warrant, she'll tax him
And, as you said, and wisely was it said, [home:
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:
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
And tell you what I know.

King. Thanks, dear my lord.

Lexit Polonius.

O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
A brother's murder!-Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as sharp as will;
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
And, like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand.
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood?
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens,
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy,
But to confront the visage of offence?
And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force,-
To be forestalled, ere we come to fall,

Or pardon'd, being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is past. But O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder!-
That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
Of those effects for which I did the murder,
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
May one be pardon'd, and retain the offence?
In the corrupted currents of this world,
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice;
And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law. But 'tis not so above:
There is no shuffling, there the action lies
In his true nature; and we ourselves compell❜d,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. then? what rests?
Try what repentance : What can it not?
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
O wretched state! O, busom, black as death!
O, limed soul; that, struggling to be free,
Art more engag'd! Help, angels, make assay!
Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart, with strings of
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe; [steel,
All may be well!
[retires, and kneels.

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

I, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.

Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge.
He took my father grossly, full of bread;
With all his crimes broad blown, as Ansh as May

And how his audit stands, who knows, save heaven:
But, in our circumstance and course of thought,
'Tis heavy with him: And am I then reveng'd,
To take him in the purging of his soul,
When he is fit and season'd for his passage?
Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent
When he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage,
Or in the incestuous pleasures of his bed;
At gaming, swearing; or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in't:
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven;
And that his soul may be as damn'd, and black,
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays:
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. [exit.
The King rises and advances. [below;
King. My words fly up, my thoughts remain
Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go. [exit.


Enter Queen and Polonius.

Pol. He will come straight. Look, you lay home

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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; makes marriage-vows
As false as dicers' oaths; O, such a deed,
As from the body of contraction plucks
The very soul; and sweet religion makes

A rhapsody of words: Heaven's face doth glow;
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
With tristful visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act.

Queen. Ah me, what act,

That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?
Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and on this;
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
See, what a grace was seated on this brow:
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
A station like the herald Mercury,
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: [lows:
This was your husband. Look you now, what fol-
Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear,
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?
You cannot call it, love: for, at your age,
The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
And waits upon the judgement; and what judge-


Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have,
Else could you not have motion: but, sure, that
Is apoplex'd: for madness would not err; [sense
Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd,
But it reserv'd some quantity of choice,
To serve in such a difference. What devil was't,
That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind?
Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
Or but a sickly part of one true sense
Could not so mope.

O, shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,
If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame,
When the compulsive ardour gives the charge;
Since frost itself as actively doth burn,
And reason panders will."

Queen. O, Humlet, speak no more:
Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul;
And there I see such black and grained spots,
As will not leave their tinct.

Ham. Nay, but to live

In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed:

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Of shreds and patches:

Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings, You heavenly guards!—What would your gracious Queen. Alas, he's mad.


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

Ghost. Do not forget: This visitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
But, look! amazement on thy mother sits:
O, step between her and her fighting soul;
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works:
Speak to her, Hamlet.

Ham. How is it with you, lady?
Queen. Alas, how is't with you?
That you do bend your eye on vacancy
And with th' incorporal air do hold discourse?
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
And, as the sleeping soldiers in th' aların,
Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,
Starts up, and stands on end. O, gentle son,
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?
Ham. On him! on him!-Look you, how pale

he glares!

His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
Would make them capable.-- Do not look upon me;
Lest, with this piteous action, you convert
My stern effects: then what I have to do
Will want true colour; tears, perchance, for blood.
Queen. To whom do you speak this?
Ham. Do you see nothing there?
Queen. Nothing at all; yet all, that is, I see.
Ham. Nor did you nothing hear?
Queen. No, nothing, but ourselves.

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

Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain: This bodiless creation ecstasy Is very cunning in.

Ham. Ecstasy!


My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
And makes as healthful music. It is not madness
That I have utter'd: bring me to the test,
And I the matter will re-word; which madness
Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
Lay not that flattering uuction to your soul,
That not your trespass, but my madness, speaks;
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place;


Whiles rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;
Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
And do not spread the compost on the weeds,
To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue:
For in the fatness of these pursy times,
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg;
Yea, curb and woo, for leave to do him good.
Queen. O Hamlet! thou hast cleft my heart in

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;
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.

That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat
Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this;
That to the use of actions fair and good
He likewise gives a frock, a livery,
That aptly is put on. Refrain to-nignt;
And that shall lend a kind of easiness
To the next abstinence: the next more easy:
For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
And either curb the devil, or throw him out
With wondrous potency. Once more, good night;
And when you are desirous to be bless'd,
I'll blessing beg of you.-For this same lord,
[pointing to Polonius.
1 do repent. But heaven hath pleas'd it so,→→

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To punish me with this, and this with me,
That I must be their scourge and minister.
I will bestow him, and will answer well
The death I gave him. So, again, good night!
í must be cruel, only to be kind :
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.-
But one word more, good lady. 7

Queen. What shall I do?

Hum. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do. Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed;

! Pinch wanton on your cheek: call you, his mouse;
And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses,
Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
Make you to ravel all this matter out,
That I essentially am not in madness,
But mad in craft. 'Twere good, you let him know.
For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,
Such dear concernings hide? who would do so?
No, in despite of sense and secrecy,

Unpeg the basket on the house's top,
Let the birds fly; and, like the famous ape,
To try conclusions, in the basket creep,
And break your own neck down.

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

Ham. I must to England; you know that?
Queen. Alack,

I had forgot; 'tis so concluded on.


Ham. There's letters sealed: and my two school-
Whom I will trust, as I will adders fang'd,-
They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way,
And marshal me to knavery. Let it work;
For 'tis the sport, to have the engineer
Hoist with his own petar: and it shall go hard,
But I will delve one yard below their mines,
And blow them at the moon: O, 'tis most sweet,
When in one line two crafts directly meet.—
This man shall set me packing.

I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room.—
Mother, good night. Indeed, this counsellor
Is now most still, most secret, and most grave,
Who was in life a foolish prating knave.
Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you
Good night, mother.

[ex. severally; Ham. dragging in Pol

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Enter King, Queen, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern. King. There's matter in these sighs; these profound heaves

You must translate: 'tis fit we understand them. Where is your son?

Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while. [to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who go out. Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to night! King. What, Gertrude?-How does Hamlet? Queen. Mad as the sea and wind, when both conWhich is the mightier: In his lawlesss fit, [tend Behind the arras, hearing something stir, Whips out his rapier, cries, 'a rat! a rat!' And, in this brainish hension, kills

The unseen good old man.

King. O, heavy deed!

It had been so with us, had we been there:
His liberty is full of threats to all;
To you yourself, to us, to every one.

Alas! how shall this bloody deed be answer'd ?
It will be laid to us, whose providence
Should have kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt,
This mad young man: but, so much was our love,
We would not understand what was most fit;
But, like the owner of a foul disease,

To keep it from divulging, let it feed
Even on the path of life. Where is he gone?

Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd. O'er whom his very madness, like some ore, Among a mineral of metals base,

Shows itself pure he weeps for what is done.
King. O, Gertrude, come away!

The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch,
But we will ship him hence; and this vile deed
We must, with all our majesty and skill,
Both countenance and excuse.--Ho! Guildensteru!
Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
Friends both, go join you with some further aid:
Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain,
And from his mother's closet ath he dragg'd him:
Go, seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body
Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this.

[exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends;
And let them know, both what we mean to do,
And what's untimely done: so, haply, slander,→
Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,
As level as the cannon to his blank,
Transports his poison'd shot,may miss our name,
And hit the woundless air.O, come away!
My soul is full of discord and dismay.


Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Safely stowed,-[Ros. &c. within. Hamlet! lord Hamlet!] But soft,-what noise? who cails on Hamlet?. O, here they come.

Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Ros. What have you done, my lord, with the dead body?

Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin. Ros. Tell us where 'tis; that we may take it thence, and bear it to the chapel.

Ham. Do not believe it.

Ros. Believe what?

Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a sponge! --what replication should be made by the son of a king?

Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord?

Ham. Ay, sir; that soaks up the king's countenance, his rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the king best service in the end: He keeps them, 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.

Ros. I understand you not, my lord? Ham. I am glad of it: a knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear.

Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the body is, and go with us to the king.

Ham. The body is with the king, but the king is not with the body. The king is a thingGuil. A thing, my lord? Ham. Of nothing bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after.



Enter King, attended.

[body. King. I have sent to seek him, and to find the 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 judgement, but their eyes; And, where 'tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even, This sudden sending him away must seem Deliberate pause. Diseases, desperate grown, By desperate appliance are reliev'd, Enter Rosencrantz.

Or not at all. How now? what hath befallen? Ros. Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord, We cannot get from him.

King. But where is he?


Ros. Without, my lord; guarded, to know your
King. Bring him before us.

Ros. Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord.
Enter Hamlet and Guildenstern.
King. Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?
Ham. At supper.

King. At supper? where?

Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten : a certain convocation of 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.

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King. Alas, alas!

Ham. A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king; and cat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.

King. What dost thou mean by this?

Ham. Nothing, but to show you how a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar. King. Where is Polonius?

Ham. In heaven; send thither to see; if your messenger find him not there, seek him i' the other place yourself. But, indeed, if you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby.

King. Go seek him there. [to some Attendants. Ham. He will stay till you come.

Lexeunt Attendants. King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve [safety, For that which thou hast done,-must send thee hence

With fiery quickness: therefore, prepare thyself';
The bark is ready, and the wind at help,
Th' associates tend, and every thing is bent
For England.

Ham. For England King. Ay, Hamlet. Ham. Good.


King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes. Ham. I see a cherub, that sees them. come; for England!-Farewell, dear mother. King. Thy loving father, Hamlet. Ham. My mother: Father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is one flesh; aud so, my mother. Come, for England. [exit.

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

Delay it not, I'll have him hence to night:
Away; for every thing is seal'd and done
That else leans on th' affair: pray you, make haste.

[exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,
(As my great power thereof may give thee sense:
Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red
After the Danish sword, and thy free awe
Pays homage to us,) thou mayst not coldly set
Our sovereign process; which imports at full,
By letters conjuring to that effect,
The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England;
For like the hectic in my blood he rages,
And thou must cure me: 'till I know 'tis done,
Howe'er my haps, my joys will ne'er begin.[cart


Enter Fortinbras and forces, marching. For. Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king;

Tell him, that by his licence, Fortinbras
Craves the conveyance of a promis'd march
Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous
If that his majesty would aught with us,
We shall express our duty in his eye,
And let him know so.

Cap. I wil do't, my lord.

For. Go softly on. [exeunt Fortinbras and forces
Enter Hamlet, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, &e
Ham. Good sir, whose powers are these?
Cap. They are of Norway, sir.

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Ham. Who

Commands them, sir?

Cap. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras. Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, sir, Or for some frontier?

Cap. Truly to speak, sir, and with no addition, We go to gain a little patch of ground, That hath in it no profit but the name. To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it; Nor will it yield to Norway, or the Pole, A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.

Ham. Why, then, the Polack never will defend
Cap. Yes, 'tis already garrison'd.
Ham. Two thousand souls, and twenty thou-
sand ducats,

Will not debate the question of this straw:
This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace;
That inward breaks, and shows no cause without
Why the man dies.-I humbly thank you, sir.
Cap. God be wi' you, sir. [exit Captain.
Ros. Will't please you go, my lord? [before.
Ham. I will be with you straight. Go a little
[exeunt Ros. & Guil.

How all occasions do inform against me,
And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
If his chief good, and market of his time,
Be but to sleep, and feed? A beast, no more.
Sure, he, that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before, and after, gave us not
That capability and godlike reason

To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on the event,—

A thought, which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom,

And, ever, three parts coward,-I do not know Why yet I live to say, This thing's to do ;'

Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means,

To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me.
Witness, this army, of such mass, and charge,
Led by a delicate and tender prince;
Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd,
Makes mouths at the invisible event;
Exposing what is mortal, and unsure,

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To all that fortune, death, and danger, darc,
Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great,
Is, not to stir without great argument;
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw,
When honour's at the stake. How stand I then,
That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
Excitements of my reason, and my blood,
And let all sleep? while, to my shaine, I see
The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
That, for a fantasy, and trick of fame,
Go to their graves like beds; fight for a plot
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
Which is not tomb enough, and continent,
To hide the slain?—O, from this time forth, al
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! [exit.


Enter Queen and Horatio.

Queen. I will not speak with her.

Hor. She is importunate; indeed, distract; Her mood will needs be pitied.

Queen. What would she have?

Thears Hor. She speaks much of her father; says, she There's tricks i'the world; and hems, and beats her heart;

Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,
That carry but half sense. her speech is nothing,
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
The hearers to collection; they aim at it,
And botch the words up to fit to theirown thoughts:
Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield
Indeed would make one think, there might be
Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
Queen. 'Twere good she were spoken with; for
she may strew

Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds :
Let her come in.
[exit Horatio.

To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,
Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss:
So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
Re-enter Horatio, with Ophelia.
Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Den-
Queen. How now, Ophelia ?

Oph. How should I your truc-love know
From another one?

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