ACT II.
Scene I. A room in Polonius's
house.
[Enter Polonius and Reynaldo.]
Pol.Give him this money and these
notes, Reynaldo.
Rey.I will, my lord.
Pol.You shall do marvellous wisely,
good Reynaldo,Before You visit
him, to make inquiryOf his
behaviour.
Rey.My lord, I did intend it.
Pol.Marry, well said; very well
said. Look you, sir,Enquire
me first what Danskers are
in Paris;And how, and who,
what means, and where they
keep,What company, at what
expense; and finding,By this
encompassment and drift of
question,That they do know
my son, come you more nearerThan
your particular demands will
touch it:Take you, as 'twere,
some distant knowledge of him;As
thus, 'I know his father and
his friends,And in part hi;m;--do
you mark this, Reynaldo?
Rey.Ay, very well, my lord.
Pol.'And in part him;--but,'
you may say, 'not well:But
if't be he I mean, he's very
wild;Addicted so and so;' and
there put on himWhat forgeries
you please; marry, none so
rankAs may dishonour him; take
heed of that;But, sir, such
wanton, wild, and usual slipsAs
are companions noted and most
knownTo youth and liberty.
Rey.As gaming, my lord.
Pol.Ay, or drinking, fencing,
swearing, quarrelling,Drabbing:--you
may go so far.
Rey.My lord, that would dishonour
him.
Pol.Faith, no; as you may season
it in the charge.You must not
put another scandal on him,That
he is open to incontinency;That's
not my meaning: but breathe
his faults so quaintlyThat
they may seem the taints of
liberty;The flash and outbreak
of a fiery mind;A savageness
in unreclaimed blood,Of general
assault.
Rey.But, my good lord,--
Pol.Wherefore should you do this?
Rey.Ay, my lord,I would know
that.
Pol.Marry, sir, here's my drift;And
I believe it is a fetch of
warrant:You laying these slight
sullies on my sonAs 'twere
a thing a little soil'd i'
the working,Mark you,Your party
in converse, him you would
sound,Having ever seen in the
prenominate crimesThe youth
you breathe of guilty, be assur'dHe
closes with you in this consequence;'Good
sir,' or so; or 'friend,' or
'gentleman'--According to the
phrase or the additionOf man
and country.
Rey.Very good, my lord.
Pol.And then, sir, does he this,--he
does--What was I about to say?--By
the mass, I was about to say
something:--Where did I leave?
Rey.At 'closes in the consequence,'
at 'friend or so,' andgentleman.'
Pol.At--closes in the consequence'--ay,
marry!He closes with you thus:--'I
know the gentleman;I saw him
yesterday, or t'other day,Or
then, or then; with such, or
such; and, as you say,There
was he gaming; there o'ertook
in's rouse;There falling out
at tennis': or perchance,'I
saw him enter such a house
of sale,'--Videlicet, a brothel,--or
so forth.--See you now;Your
bait of falsehood takes this
carp of truth:And thus do we
of wisdom and of reach,With
windlaces, and with assays
of bias,By indirections find
directions out:So, by my former
lecture and advice,Shall you
my son. You have me, have you
not?
Rey.My lord, I have.
Pol.God b' wi' you, fare you
well.
Rey.Good my lord!
Pol.Observe his inclination in
yourself.
Rey.I shall, my lord.
Pol.And let him ply his music.
Rey.Well, my lord.
Pol.Farewell!
[Exit Reynaldo.]
[Enter Ophelia.]
How now, Ophelia! what's the
matter?
Oph.Alas, my lord, I have been
so affrighted!
Pol.With what, i' the name of
God?
Oph.My lord, as I was sewing
in my chamber,Lord Hamlet,--with
his doublet all unbrac'd;No
hat upon his head; his stockings
foul'd,Ungart'red, and down-gyved
to his ankle;Pale as his shirt;
his knees knocking each other;And
with a look so piteous in purportAs
if he had been loosed out of
hellTo speak of horrors,--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 faceAs
he would draw it. Long stay'd
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
profoundAs it did seem to shatter
all his bulkAnd end his being:
that done, he lets me go:And,
with his head over his shoulder
turn'dHe seem'd to find his
way without his eyes;For out
o' doors he went without their
help,And to the last bended
their light on me.
Pol.Come, go with me: I will
go seek the king.This is the
very ecstasy of love;Whose
violent property fordoes itself,And
leads the will to desperate
undertakings,As oft as any
passion under heavenThat does
afflict our natures. I am sorry,--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 deniedHis access
to me.
Pol.That hath made him mad.I
am sorry that with better heed
and judgmentI had not quoted
him: I fear'd he did but trifle,And
meant to wreck thee; but beshrew
my jealousy!It seems it as
proper to our ageTo cast beyond
ourselves in our opinionsAs
it is common for the younger
sortTo lack discretion. Come,
go we to the king:This must
be known; which, being kept
close, might moveMore grief
to hide than hate to utter
love.
[Exeunt.]
Scene II. A room in the Castle.
[Enter King, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern,
and Attendants.]
King.Welcome, dear Rosencrantz
and Guildenstern!Moreover that
we much did long to see you,The
need we have to use you did
provokeOur hasty sending. Something
have you heardOf Hamlet's transformation;
so I call it,Since nor the
exterior nor the inward manResembles
that it was. What it should
be,More than his father's death,
that thus hath put himSo much
from the understanding of himself,I
cannot dream of: I entreat
you bothThat, being of so young
days brought up with him,And
since so neighbour'd to his
youth and humour,That you vouchsafe
your rest here in our courtSome
little time: so by your companiesTo
draw him on to pleasures, and
to gather,So much as from occasion
you may glean,Whether aught,
to us unknown, afflicts him
thus,That, open'd, lies within
our remedy.
Queen.Good gentlemen, he hath
much talk'd of you,And sure
I am two men there are not
livingTo whom he more adheres.
If it will please youTo show
us so much gentry and good-willAs
to expend your time with us
awhile,For the supply and profit
of our hope,Your visitation
shall receive such thanksAs
fits a king's remembrance.
Ros.Both your majestiesMight,
by the sovereign power you
have of us,Put your dread pleasures
more into commandThan to entreaty.
Guil.We both obey,And here give
up ourselves, in the full bent,To
lay our service freely at your
feet,To be commanded.
King.Thanks, Rosencrantz and
gentle Guildenstern.
Queen.Thanks, Guildenstern and
gentle Rosencrantz:And I beseech
you instantly to visitMy too-much-changed
son.--Go, some of you,And bring
these gentlemen where Hamlet
is.
Guil.Heavens make our presence
and our practicesPleasant and
helpful to him!
Queen.Ay, amen!
[Exeunt Rosencrantz, Guildenstern,
and some Attendants].
[Enter Polonius.]
Pol.Th' ambassadors from Norway,
my good lord,Are joyfully return'd.
King.Thou still hast been the
father of good news.
Pol.Have I, my lord? Assure you,
my good liege,I hold my duty,
as I hold my soul,Both to my
God and to my gracious king:And
I do think,--or else this brain
of mineHunts not the trail
of policy so sureAs it hath
us'd to do,--that I have foundThe
very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.
King.O, speak of that; that do
I long to hear.
Pol.Give first admittance to
the ambassadors;My news shall
be the fruit to that great
feast.
King.Thyself do grace to them,
and bring them in.
[Exit Polonius.]
He tells me, my sweet queen,
he hath foundThe head and source
of all your son's distemper.
Queen.I doubt it is no other
but the main,--His father's
death and our o'erhasty marriage.
King.Well, we shall sift him.
[Enter Polonius, with Voltimand
and Cornelius.]
Welcome, my good friends!Say,
Voltimand, what from our brother
Norway?
Volt.Most fair return of greetings
and desires.Upon our first,
he sent out to suppressHis
nephew's levies; which to him
appear'dTo be a preparation
'gainst the Polack;But, better
look'd into, he truly foundIt
was against your highness;
whereat griev'd,--That so his
sickness, age, and impotenceWas
falsely borne in hand,--sends
out arrestsOn Fortinbras; which
he, in brief, obeys;Receives
rebuke from Norway; and, in
fine,Makes vow before his uncle
never moreTo give th' assay
of arms against your majesty.Whereon
old Norway, overcome with joy,Gives
him three thousand crowns in
annual fee;And his commission
to employ those soldiers,So
levied as before, against the
Polack:With an entreaty, herein
further shown,[Gives a paper.]That
it might please you to give
quiet passThrough your dominions
for this enterprise,On such
regards of safety and allowanceAs
therein are set down.
King.It likes us well;And at
our more consider'd time we'll
read,Answer, and think upon
this business.Meantime we thank
you for your well-took labour:Go
to your rest; at night we'll
feast together:Most welcome
home!
[Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius.]
Pol.This business is well ended.--My
liege, and madam,--to expostulateWhat
majesty should be, what duty
is,Why day is day, night is
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.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 remainsThat
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.I have a daughter,--have
whilst 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 beautifiedOphelia,'--That's
an ill phrase, a vile phrase;
'beautified' is a vilephrase:
but you shall hear. Thus:[Reads.]'In
her excellent white bosom,
these, &c.'
Queen.Came this from Hamlet to
her?
Pol.Good madam, stay awhile;
I will be faithful.[Reads.]
'Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar; But
never doubt I love.'O dear
Ophelia, I am ill at these
numbers; I have not art toreckon
my groans: but that I love
thee best, O most best, believeit.
Adieu. 'Thine evermore, most
dear lady, whilst this machine
is to him, HAMLET.'This, in
obedience, hath my daughter
show'd me;And more above, hath
his solicitings,As they fell
out by time, by means, and
place,All given to mine ear.
King.But how hath sheReceiv'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 perceiv'd 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,Or
given my heart a winking, mute
and dumb;Or look'd upon this
love with idle sight;--What
might you think? No, I went
round to work,And my young
mistress thus I did 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;And
he, repulsed,--a short tale
to make,--Fell into a sadness;
then into a fast;Thence to
a watch; thence into a weakness;Thence
to a lightness; and, by this
declension,Into the madness
wherein now he raves,And all
we wail 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 prov'd otherwise?
King.Not that I know.
Pol.Take this from this, if this
be otherwise:[Points to his
head and shoulder.]If circumstances
lead me, I will findWhere truth
is hid, though it were hid
indeedWithin the centre.
King.How may we try it further?
Pol.You know sometimes he walks
for hours togetherHere in the
lobby.
Queen.So he does indeed.
Pol.At such a time I'll loose
my daughter to him:Be you and
I behind an arras then;Mark
the encounter: if he love her
not,And he not from his reason
fall'n thereonLet 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
awayI'll board him presently:--O,
give me leave.
[Exeunt King, Queen, and Attendants.]
[Enter Hamlet, reading.]
How does my good Lord Hamlet?
Ham.Well, God-a-mercy.
Pol.Do you know me, my lord?
Ham.Excellent well; you're a
fishmonger.
Pol.Not I, my lord.
Ham.Then I would you were so
honest a man.
Pol.Honest, my lord!
Ham.Ay, sir; to be honest, as
this world goes, is to be one
manpicked out of ten thousand.
Pol.That's very true, my lord.
Ham.For if the sun breed maggots
in a dead dog, being a god-kissingcarrion,--Have
you a daughter?
Pol.I have, my lord.
Ham.Let her not walk i' the sun:
conception is a blessing, but
notas your daughter may conceive:--friend,
look to't.
Pol.How say you by that?--[Aside.]
Still harping on my daughter:--yethe
knew me not at first; he said
I was a fishmonger: he is fargone,
far gone: and truly in my youth
I suffered much extremityfor
love; very near this. I'll
speak to him again.--What do
youread, my lord?
Ham.Words, words, words.
Pol.What is the matter, my lord?
Ham.Between who?
Pol.I mean, the matter that you
read, my lord.
Ham.Slanders, sir: for the satirical
slave says here that old menhave
grey beards; that their faces
are wrinkled; their eyespurging
thick amber and plum-tree gum;
and that they have aplentiful
lack of wit, together with
most weak hams: all which,sir,
though I most powerfully and
potently believe, yet I hold
itnot honesty to have it thus
set down; for you yourself,
sir,should be old as I am,
if, like a crab, you could
go backward.
Pol.[Aside.] Though this be madness,
yet there is a method in't.--Will
you walk out of the air, my
lord?
Ham.Into my grave?
Pol.Indeed, that is out o' the
air. [Aside.] How pregnant
sometimeshis replies are! a
happiness that often madness
hits on, whichreason and sanity
could not so prosperously be
delivered of. Iwill leave him
and suddenly contrive the means
of meeting betweenhim and my
daughter.--My honourable lord,
I will most humbly takemy leave
of you.
Ham.You cannot, sir, take from
me anything that I will morewillingly
part withal,--except my life,
except my life, except mylife.
Pol.Fare you well, my lord.
Ham.These tedious old fools!
[Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.]
Pol.You go to seek the Lord Hamlet;
there he is.
Ros.[To Polonius.] God save you,
sir!
[Exit Polonius.]
Guil.My honoured lord!
Ros.My most dear lord!
Ham.My excellent good friends!
How dost thou, Guildenstern?
Ah,Rosencrantz! Good lads,
how do ye both?
Ros.As the indifferent children
of the earth.
Guil.Happy in that we are not
over-happy;On fortune's cap
we are not the very button.
Ham.Nor the soles of her shoe?
Ros.Neither, my lord.
Ham.Then you live about her waist,
or in the middle of herfavours?
Guil.Faith, her privates we.
Ham.In the secret parts of fortune?
O, most true; she is astrumpet.
What's the news?
Ros.None, my lord, but that the
world's grown honest.
Ham.Then is doomsday near; but
your news is not true. Let
mequestion more in particular:
what have you, my good friends,deserved
at the hands of fortune, that
she sends you to prisonhither?
Guil.Prison, my lord!
Ham.Denmark's a prison.
Ros.Then is the world one.
Ham.A goodly one; in which there
are many confines, wards, anddungeons,
Denmark being one o' the worst.
Ros.We think not so, my lord.
Ham.Why, then 'tis none to you;
for there is nothing either
goodor bad but thinking makes
it so: to me it is a prison.
Ros.Why, then, your ambition
makes it one; 'tis too narrow
for yourmind.
Ham.O God, I could be bounded
in a nutshell, and count myself
aking of infinite space, were
it not that I have bad dreams.
Guil.Which dreams, indeed, are
ambition; for the very substance
ofthe ambitious is merely the
shadow of a dream.
Ham.A dream itself is but a shadow.
Ros.Truly, and I hold ambition
of so airy and light a quality
thatit is but a shadow's shadow.
Ham.Then are our beggars bodies,
and our monarchs and outstretch'dheroes
the beggars' shadows. Shall
we to the court? for, by myfay,
I cannot reason.
Ros. and Guild.We'll wait upon
you.
Ham.No such matter: I will not
sort you with the rest of myservants;
for, to speak to you like an
honest man, I am mostdreadfully
attended. But, in the beaten
way of friendship, whatmake
you at Elsinore?
Ros.To visit you, my lord; no
other occasion.
Ham.Beggar that I am, I am even
poor in thanks; but I thank
you:and sure, dear friends,
my thanks are too dear a halfpenny.
Wereyou not sent for? Is it
your own inclining? Is it a
freevisitation? Come, deal
justly with me: come, come;
nay, speak.
Guil.What should we say, my lord?
Ham.Why, anything--but to the
purpose. You were sent for;
andthere is a kind of confession
in your looks, which your modestieshave
not craft enough to colour:
I know the good king and queenhave
sent for you.
Ros.To what end, my lord?
Ham.That you must teach me. But
let me conjure you, by the
rightsof our fellowship, by
the consonancy of our youth,
by theobligation of our ever-preserved
love, and by what more dear
abetter proposer could charge
you withal, be even and direct
withme, whether you were sent
for or no.
Ros.[To Guildenstern.] What say
you?
Ham.[Aside.] Nay, then, I have
an eye of you.--If you love
me, holdnot off.
Guil.My lord, we were sent for.
Ham.I will tell you why; so shall
my anticipation prevent yourdiscovery,
and your secrecy to the king
and queen moult nofeather.
I have of late,--but wherefore
I know not,--lost all mymirth,
forgone all custom of exercises;
and indeed, it goes soheavily
with my disposition that this
goodly frame, the earth,seems
to me a sterile promontory;
this most excellent canopy,
theair, look you, this brave
o'erhanging firmament, this
majesticalroof fretted with
golden fire,--why, it appears
no other thingto me than a
foul and pestilent congregation
of vapours. What apiece of
work is man! How noble in reason!
how infinite infaculties! in
form and moving, how express
and admirable! inaction how
like an angel! in apprehension,
how like a god! thebeauty of
the world! the paragon of animals!
And yet, to me, whatis this
quintessence of dust? Man delights
not me; no, nor womanneither,
though by your smiling you
seem to say so.
Ros.My lord, there was no such
stuff in my thoughts.
Ham.Why did you laugh then, when
I said 'Man delights not me'?
Ros.To think, my lord, if you
delight not in man, what lentenentertainment
the players shall receive from
you: we coted themon the way;
and hither are they coming
to offer you service.
Ham.He that plays the king shall
be welcome,--his majesty shallhave
tribute of me; the adventurous
knight shall use his foil andtarget;
the lover shall not sigh gratis;
the humorous man shallend his
part in peace; the clown shall
make those laugh whoselungs
are tickle o' the sere; and
the lady shall say her mindfreely,
or the blank verse shall halt
for't. What players arethey?
Ros.Even those you were wont
to take such delight in,--thetragedians
of the city.
Ham.How chances it they travel?
their residence, both inreputation
and profit, was better both
ways.
Ros.I think their inhibition
comes by the means of the lateinnovation.
Ham.Do they hold the same estimation
they did when I was in thecity?
Are they so followed?
Ros.No, indeed, are they not.
Ham.How comes it? do they grow
rusty?
Ros.Nay, their endeavour keeps
in the wonted pace: but there
is,sir, an aery of children,
little eyases, that cry out
on the topof question, and
are most tyrannically clapped
for't: these arenow the fashion;
and so berattle the common
stages,--so they callthem,--that
many wearing rapiers are afraid
of goose-quills anddare scarce
come thither.
Ham.What, are they children?
who maintains 'em? How are
theyescoted? Will they pursue
the quality no longer than
they cansing? will they not
say afterwards, if they should
growthemselves to common players,--as
it is most like, if their meansare
no better,--their writers do
them wrong to make them exclaimagainst
their own succession?
Ros.Faith, there has been much
to do on both sides; and the
nationholds it no sin to tarre
them to controversy: there
was, forawhile, no money bid
for argument unless the poet
and the playerwent to cuffs
in the question.
Ham.Is't possible?
Guil.O, there has been much throwing
about of brains.
Ham.Do the boys carry it away?
Ros.Ay, that they do, my lord;
Hercules and his load too.
Ham.It is not very strange; for
my uncle is king of Denmark,
andthose that would make mouths
at him while my father lived,
givetwenty, forty, fifty, a
hundred ducats a-piece for
his picture inlittle. 'Sblood,
there is something in this
more than natural, ifphilosophy
could find it out.
[Flourish of trumpets within.]
Guil.There are the players.
Ham.Gentlemen, you are welcome
to Elsinore. Your hands, come:
theappurtenance of welcome
is fashion and ceremony: let
me complywith you in this garb;
lest my extent to the players,
which Itell you must show fairly
outward, should more appear
likeentertainment than yours.
You are welcome: but my uncle-fatherand
aunt-mother are deceived.
Guil.In what, my dear lord?
Ham.I am but mad north-north-west:
when the wind is southerly
Iknow a hawk from a handsaw.
[Enter Polonius.]
Pol.Well be with you, gentlemen!
Ham.Hark you, Guildenstern;--and
you too;--at each ear a hearer:
thatgreat baby you see there
is not yet out of his swaddling
clouts.
Ros.Happily he's the second time
come to them; for they say
an oldman is twice a child.
Ham.I will prophesy he comes
to tell me of the players;
mark it.--Yousay right, sir:
o' Monday morning; 'twas so
indeed.
Pol.My lord, I have news to tell
you.
Ham.My lord, I have news to tell
you. When Roscius was an actor
inRome,--
Pol.The actors are come hither,
my lord.
Ham.Buzz, buzz!
Pol.Upon my honour,--
Ham.Then came each actor on his
ass,--
Pol.The best actors in the world,
either for tragedy, comedy,history,
pastoral, pastoral-comical,
historical-pastoral,tragical-historical,
tragical-comical-historical-pastoral,
sceneindividable, or poem unlimited:
Seneca cannot be too heavy
norPlautus too light. For the
law of writ and the liberty,
these arethe only men.
Ham.O Jephthah, judge of Israel,
what a treasure hadst thou!
Pol.What treasure had he, my
lord?
Ham.Why-- 'One fair daughter,
and no more, The which he loved
passing well.'
Pol.[Aside.] Still on my daughter.
Ham.Am I not i' the right, old
Jephthah?
Pol.If you call me Jephthah,
my lord, I have a daughter
that Ilove passing well.
Ham.Nay, that follows not.
Pol.What follows, then, my lord?
Ham.Why-- 'As by lot, God wot,'and
then, you know, 'It came to
pass, as most like it was--'The
first row of the pious chanson
will show you more; for lookwhere
my abridgment comes.
[Enter four or five Players.]
You are welcome, masters; welcome,
all:--I am glad to see theewell.--welcome,
good friends.--O, my old friend!
Thy face isvalanc'd since I
saw thee last; comest thou
to beard me inDenmark?--What,
my young lady and mistress!
By'r lady, yourladyship is
nearer to heaven than when
I saw you last, by thealtitude
of a chopine. Pray God, your
voice, like a piece ofuncurrent
gold, be not cracked within
the ring.--Masters, you areall
welcome. We'll e'en to't like
French falconers, fly atanything
we see: we'll have a speech
straight: come, give us ataste
of your quality: come, a passionate
speech.
I Play.What speech, my lord?
Ham.I heard thee speak me a speech
once,--but it was never acted;or
if it was, not above once;
for the play, I remember, pleasednot
the million, 'twas caviare
to the general; but it was,--as
Ireceived it, and others, whose
judgments in such matters cried
inthe top of mine,--an excellent
play, well digested in the
scenes,set down with as much
modesty as cunning. I remember,
one saidthere were no sallets
in the lines to make the matter
savoury,nor no matter in the
phrase that might indite the
author ofaffectation; but called
it an honest method, as wholesome
assweet, and by very much more
handsome than fine. One speech
in itI chiefly loved: 'twas
AEneas' tale to Dido, and thereabout
of itespecially where he speaks
of Priam's slaughter: if it
live inyour memory, begin at
this line;--let me see, let
me see:-- The rugged Pyrrhus,
like th' Hyrcanian beast,--
it is not so:-- it begins with
Pyrrhus:--
'The rugged Pyrrhus,--he whose sable arms, Black as his purpose,did the night
resemble When he lay couched in the ominous horse,-- Hath now this dread
and black complexion smear'd With heraldry more dismal; head to foot Now
is be total gules; horridly trick'd With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters,
sons, Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets, That lend a tyrannous
and a damned light To their vile murders: roasted in wrath and fire, And
thus o'ersized with coagulate gore, With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish
Pyrrhus Old grandsire Priam seeks.'
So, proceed you.
Pol.'Fore God, my lord, well
spoken, with good accent and
gooddiscretion.
I Play. 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
sword The unnerved father falls.
Then senseless Ilium, Seeming
to feel this blow, with flaming
top Stoops to his base; and
with a hideous crash Takes
prisoner Pyrrhus' ear: for
lo! his sword, Which was declining
on the milky head Of reverend
Priam, seem'd i' the air to
stick: So, as a painted tyrant,
Pyrrhus stood; And, like a
neutral to his will and matter,
Did nothing. But as we often
see, against some storm, A
silence in the heavens, the
rack stand still, The bold
winds 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 strumpet, Fortune! All
you gods, In general synod,
take away her power; Break
all the spokes and fellies
from her wheel, And bowl the
round nave down the hill of
heaven, As low as to the fiends!
Pol.This is too long.
Ham.It shall to the barber's,
with your beard.--Pr'ythee
say on.--He's for a jig or
a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps:--say
on; cometo Hecuba.
I Play. But who, O who, had seen
the mobled queen,--
Ham.'The mobled queen'?
Pol.That's good! 'Mobled queen'
is good.
I Play. Run barefoot up and down,
threatening the flames With
bisson rheum; a clout upon
that head Where late the diadem
stood, and for a robe, About
her lank and all o'erteemed
loins, 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 pronounc'd:
But if the gods themselves
did see her then, When she
saw Pyrrhus make malicious
sport In mincing with his sword
her husband's limbs, The instant
burst of clamour that she made,--
Unless things mortal move them
not at all,-- Would have made
milch the burning eyes of heaven,
And passion in the gods.
Pol.Look, whether he has not
turn'd his colour, and has
tears in'seyes.--Pray you,
no more!
Ham.'Tis well. I'll have thee
speak out the rest of this
soon.--Good my lord, will you
see the players well bestowed?
Do youhear? Let them be well
used; for they are the abstracts
and briefchronicles of the
time; after your death you
were better have abad epitaph
than their ill report while
you live.
Pol.My lord, I will use them
according to their desert.
Ham.Odd's bodikin, man, better:
use every man after hisdesert,
and who should scape whipping?
Use them after your ownhonour
and dignity: the less they
deserve, the more merit is
inyour bounty. Take them in.
Pol.Come, sirs.
Ham.Follow him, friends. we'll
hear a play to-morrow.
[Exeunt Polonius with all the
Players but the First.]
Dost thou hear me, old friend?
Can you play 'The Murder ofGonzago'?
I Play.Ay, my lord.
Ham.We'll ha't to-morrow night.
You could, for a need, study
aspeech of some dozen or sixteen
lines which I would set down
andinsert in't? could you not?
I Play.Ay, my lord.
Ham.Very well.--Follow that lord;
and look you mock him not.
[Exit First Player.]
--My good friends [to Ros. and
Guild.], I'll leave you tillnight:
you are welcome to Elsinore.
Ros.Good my lord!
[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.]
Ham.Ay, so, God b' wi' ye!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 conceitThat
from her working all his visage
wan'd;Tears in his eyes, distraction
in's aspect,A broken voice,
and his whole function suitingWith
forms to his conceit? 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 cue for passionThat
I have? He would drown the
stage with tearsAnd 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,
unpregnant of my cause,And
can say nothing; no, not for
a kingUpon whose property and
most dear lifeA damn'd defeat
was made. 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 throatAs deep as
to the lungs? who does me this,
ha?'Swounds, I should take
it: for it cannot beBut I am
pigeon-liver'd, and lack gallTo
make oppression bitter; or
ere thisI should have fatted
all the region kitesWith this
slave's offal: bloody, bawdy
villain!Remorseless, treacherous,
lecherous, kindless 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 whore, unpack my heart with
wordsAnd fall a-cursing like
a very drab,A scullion!Fie
upon't! foh!--About, my brain!
I have heardThat guilty creatures,
sitting at a play,Have by the
very cunning of the sceneBeen
struck so to the soul that
presentlyThey have proclaim'd
their malefactions;For murder,
though it have no tongue, will
speakWith most miraculous organ,
I'll have these playersPlay
something like the murder of
my fatherBefore mine uncle:
I'll observe his looks;I'll
tent him to the quick: if he
but blench,I know my course.
The spirit that I have seenMay
be the devil: and the devil
hath powerTo assume a pleasing
shape; yea, and perhapsOut
of my weakness and my melancholy,--As
he is very potent with such
spirits,--Abuses me to damn
me: I'll have groundsMore relative
than this.--the play's the
thingWherein I'll catch the
conscience of the king.
[Exit.]
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