ACT III.
Scene I. A room in the Castle.
[Enter King, Queen, Polonius,
Ophelia, Rosencrantz, andGuildenstern.]
King.And can you, by no drift
of circumstance,Get from him
why he puts on this confusion,Grating
so harshly all his days of
quietWith turbulent and dangerous
lunacy?
Ros.He does confess he feels
himself distracted,But from
what cause he will by no means
speak.
Guil.Nor do we find him forward
to be sounded,But, with a crafty
madness, keeps aloofWhen we
would bring him on to some
confessionOf his true state.
Queen.Did he receive you well?
Ros.Most like a gentleman.
Guil.But with much forcing of
his disposition.
Ros.Niggard of question; but,
of our demands,Most free in
his reply.
Queen.Did you assay himTo any
pastime?
Ros.Madam, it so fell out that
certain playersWe o'er-raught
on the way: of these we told
him,And there did seem in him
a kind of joyTo hear of it:
they are about the court,And,
as I think, they have already
orderThis night to play before
him.
Pol.'Tis most true;And he beseech'd
me to entreat your majestiesTo
hear and see the matter.
King.With all my heart; and it
doth much content meTo 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.]
King.Sweet Gertrude, leave us
too;For we have closely sent
for Hamlet hither,That he,
as 'twere by accident, may
hereAffront Ophelia:Her father
and myself,--lawful espials,--Will
so bestow ourselves that, seeing,
unseen,We may of their encounter
frankly judge;And gather by
him, as he is behav'd,If't
be the affliction of his love
or noThat thus he suffers for.
Queen.I shall obey you:--And
for your part, Ophelia, I do
wishThat your good beauties
be the happy causeOf Hamlet's
wildness: so shall I hope your
virtuesWill bring him to his
wonted way again,To both your
honours.
Oph.Madam, I wish it may.
[Exit Queen.]
Pol.Ophelia, walk you here.--Gracious,
so please you,We will bestow
ourselves.--[To Ophelia.] Read
on this book;That show of such
an exercise may colourYour
loneliness.--We are oft to
blame in this,--'Tis too much
prov'd,--that with devotion's
visageAnd pious action we do
sugar o'erThe Devil himself.
King.[Aside.] O, 'tis too true!How
smart a lash that speech doth
give my conscience!The harlot's
cheek, beautied with plastering
art,Is not more ugly to the
thing that helps itThan is
my deed to my most painted
word:O heavy burden!
Pol.I hear him coming: let's
withdraw, my lord.
[Exeunt King and Polonius.]
[Enter Hamlet.]
Ham.To be, or not to be,--that
is the question:--Whether 'tis
nobler in the mind to sufferThe
slings and arrows of outrageous
fortuneOr to take arms against
a sea of troubles,And by opposing
end them?--To die,--to sleep,--No
more; and by a sleep to say
we endThe heartache, and the
thousand natural shocksThat
flesh is heir to,--'tis a consummationDevoutly
to be wish'd. 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,Must give
us pause: there's the respectThat
makes calamity of so long life;For
who would bear the whips and
scorns of time,The oppressor's
wrong, the proud man's contumely,The
pangs of despis'd love, the
law's delay,The insolence of
office, and the spurnsThat
patient merit of the unworthy
takes,When he himself might
his quietus makeWith a bare
bodkin? who would these fardels
bear,To grunt and sweat under
a weary life,But that the dread
of something after death,--The
undiscover'd country, from
whose bournNo traveller returns,--puzzles
the will,And makes us rather
bear those ills we haveThan
fly to others that we know
not of?Thus conscience does
make cowards of us all;And
thus the native hue of resolutionIs
sicklied o'er with the pale
cast of thought;And enterprises
of great pith and moment,With
this regard, their currents
turn awry,And lose the name
of action.--Soft you now!The
fair Ophelia!--Nymph, in thy
orisonsBe all my sins remember'd.
Oph.Good my lord,How does your
honour for this many a day?
Ham.I humbly thank you; well,
well, well.
Oph.My lord, I have remembrances
of yoursThat I have longed
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'dAs made the things
more rich; their perfume lost,Take
these again; for to the noble
mindRich gifts wax poor when
givers prove unkind.There,
my lord.
Ham.Ha, ha! are you honest?
Oph.My lord?
Ham.Are you fair?
Oph.What means your lordship?
Ham.That if you be honest and
fair, your honesty should admit
nodiscourse to your beauty.
Oph.Could beauty, my lord, have
better commerce than with honesty?
Ham.Ay, truly; for the power
of beauty will sooner transformhonesty
from what it is to a bawd than
the force of honesty cantranslate
beauty into his likeness: this
was sometime a paradox,but
now the time gives it proof.
I did love you once.
Oph.Indeed, my lord, you made
me believe so.
Ham.You should not have believ'd
me; for virtue cannot soinoculate
our old stock but we shall
relish of it: I loved younot.
Oph.I was the more deceived.
Ham.Get thee to a nunnery: why
wouldst thou be a breeder ofsinners?
I am myself indifferent honest;
but yet I could accuseme of
such things that it were better
my mother had not borne me:I
am very proud, revengeful,
ambitious; with more offences
at mybeck than I have thoughts
to put them in, imagination
to givethem shape, or time
to act them in. What should
such fellows as Ido crawling
between earth and heaven? We
are arrant knaves, all;believe
none of us. Go thy ways to
a nunnery. Where's yourfather?
Oph.At home, my lord.
Ham.Let the doors be shut upon
him, that he may play the foolnowhere
but in's own house. Farewell.
Oph.O, help him, you sweet heavens!
Ham.If thou dost marry, I'll
give thee this plague for thy
dowry,--be thou as chaste as
ice, as pure as snow, thou
shalt not escapecalumny. Get
thee to a nunnery, go: farewell.
Or, if thou wiltneeds marry,
marry a fool; for wise men
know well enough whatmonsters
you make of them. To a nunnery,
go; and quickly too.Farewell.
Oph.O heavenly powers, restore
him!
Ham.I have heard of your paintings
too, well enough; God hathgiven
you one face, and you make
yourselves another: you jig,
youamble, and you lisp, and
nickname God's creatures, and
make yourwantonness your ignorance.
Go to, I'll no more on't; it
hath mademe mad. I say, we
will have no moe marriages:
those that aremarried already,
all but one, shall live; the
rest shall keep asthey are.
To a nunnery, go.
[Exit.]
Oph.O, what a noble mind is here
o'erthrown!The courtier's,
scholar's, soldier's, eye,
tongue, sword,The expectancy
and rose of the fair state,The
glass of fashion and the mould
of form,The observ'd of all
observers,--quite, quite down!And
I, of ladies most deject and
wretchedThat suck'd the honey
of his music vows,Now see that
noble and most sovereign reason,Like
sweet bells jangled, out of
tune and harsh;That unmatch'd
form and feature of blown youthBlasted
with ecstasy: O, woe is me,To
have seen what I have seen,
see what I see!
[Re-enter King and Polonius.]
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 soulO'er which his melancholy
sits on brood;And I do doubt
the hatch and the discloseWill
be some danger: which for to
prevent,I have in quick determinationThus
set it down:--he shall with
speed to EnglandFor the demand
of our neglected tribute:Haply
the seas, and countries different,With
variable objects, shall expelThis
something-settled matter in
his heart;Whereon his brains
still beating puts him thusFrom
fashion of himself. What think
you on't?
Pol.It shall do well: but yet
do I believeThe origin and
commencement of his griefSprung
from neglected love.--How now,
Ophelia!You need not tell us
what Lord Hamlet said;We heard
it all.--My lord, do as you
please;But if you hold it fit,
after the play,Let his queen
mother all alone entreat himTo
show his grief: let her be
round with him;And I'll be
plac'd, so please you, in the
earOf all their conference.
If she find him not,To England
send him; or confine him whereYour
wisdom best shall think.
King.It shall be so:Madness in
great ones must not unwatch'd
go.
[Exeunt.]
Scene II. A hall in the Castle.
[Enter Hamlet and cartain Players.]
Ham.Speak the speech, I pray
you, as I pronounced it to
you,trippingly on the tongue:
but if you mouth it, as many
of yourplayers do, I had as
lief the town crier spoke my
lines. Nor donot saw the air
too much with your hand, thus,
but use allgently: for in the
very torrent, tempest, and,
as I may say,whirlwind of passion,
you must acquire and beget
atemperance that may give it
smoothness. O, it offends me
to thesoul, to hear a robustious
periwig-pated fellow tear a
passion totatters, to very
rags, to split the cars of
the groundlings, who,for the
most part, are capable of nothing
but inexplicable dumbshows
and noise: I would have such
a fellow whipped for o'erdoingTermagant;
it out-herods Herod: pray you
avoid it.
I Player.I warrant your honour.
Ham.Be not too tame neither;
but let your own discretion
be yourtutor: suit the action
to the word, the word to the
action; withthis special observance,
that you o'erstep not the modesty
ofnature: for anything so overdone
is from the purpose of playing,whose
end, both at the first and
now, was and is, to hold, as'twere,
the mirror up to nature; to
show virtue her own image,scorn
her own image, and the very
age and body of the time hisform
and pressure. Now, this overdone,
or come tardy off, thoughit
make the unskilful laugh, cannot
but make the judiciousgrieve;
the censure of the which one
must in your allowance,o'erweigh
a whole theatre of others.
O, there be players that Ihave
seen play,--and heard others
praise, and that highly,--notto
speak it profanely, that, neither
having the accent ofChristians,
nor the gait of Christian,
pagan, nor man, have sostrutted
and bellowed that I have thought
some of nature'sjourneymen
had made men, and not made
them well, they imitatedhumanity
so abominably.
I Player.I hope we have reform'd
that indifferently with us,
sir.
Ham.O, reform it altogether.
And let those that play your
clownsspeak no more than is
set down for them: for there
be of themthat will themselves
laugh, to set on some quantity
of barrenspectators to laugh
too, though in the meantime
some necessaryquestion of the
play be then to be considered:
that's villanousand shows a
most pitiful ambition in the
fool that uses it. Gomake you
ready.
[Exeunt Players.]
[Enter Polonius, Rosencrantz,
and Guildenstern.]
How now, my lord! will the king
hear this piece of work?
Pol.And the queen too, and that
presently.
Ham.Bid the players make haste.
[Exit Polonius.]
Will you two help to hasten them?
Ros. and Guil.We will, my lord.
[Exeunt Ros. and Guil.]
Ham.What, ho, Horatio!
[Enter Horatio.]
Hor.Here, sweet lord, at your
service.
Ham.Horatio, thou art e'en as
just a manAs e'er my conversation
cop'd withal.
Hor.O, my dear lord,--
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 kneeWhere thrift
may follow fawning. Dost thou
hear?Since my dear soul was
mistress of her choice,And
could of men distinguish, her
electionHath seal'd thee for
herself: for thou hast beenAs
one, in suffering all, that
suffers nothing;A man that
Fortune's buffets and rewardsHast
ta'en with equal thanks: and
bles'd are thoseWhose blood
and judgment are so well commingledThat
they are not a pipe for Fortune's
fingerTo sound what stop she
please. Give me that manThat
is not passion's slave, and
I will wear himIn 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
see'st that act a-foot,Even
with the very comment of thy
soulObserve mine uncle: if
his occulted guiltDo not itself
unkennel in one speech,It is
a damned ghost that we have
seen;And my imaginations are
as foulAs Vulcan's stithy.
Give him heedful note;For I
mine eyes will rivet to his
face;And, after, we will both
our judgments joinIn censure
of his seeming.
Hor.Well, my lord:If he steal
aught the whilst this play
is playing,And scape detecting,
I will pay the theft.
Ham.They are coming to the play.
I must be idle:Get you a place.
[Danish march. A flourish. Enter
King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia,Rosencrantz,
Guildenstern, and others.]
King.How fares our cousin Hamlet?
Ham.Excellent, i' faith; of the
chameleon's dish: I eat the
air,promise-crammed: you cannot
feed capons so.
King.I have nothing with this
answer, Hamlet; these words
are notmine.
Ham.No, nor mine now. My lord,
you play'd once i' the university,
yousay? [To Polonius.]
Pol.That did I, my lord, and
was accounted a good actor.
Ham.What did you enact?
Pol.I did enact Julius Caesar;
I was kill'd i' the Capitol;
Brutuskilled me.
Ham.It was a brute part of him
to kill so capital a calf there.--Bethe
players ready?
Ros.Ay, my lord; they stay upon
your patience.
Queen.Come hither, my dear Hamlet,
sit by me.
Ham.No, good mother, here's metal
more attractive.
Pol.O, ho! do you mark that?
[To the King.]
Ham.Lady, shall I lie in your
lap?[Lying down at Ophelia's
feet.]
Oph.No, my lord.
Ham.I mean, my head upon your
lap?
Oph.Ay, my lord.
Ham.Do you think I meant country
matters?
Oph.I think nothing, my lord.
Ham.That's a fair thought to
lie between maids' legs.
Oph.What is, my lord?
Ham.Nothing.
Oph.You are merry, my lord.
Ham.Who, I?
Oph.Ay, my lord.
Ham.O, your only jig-maker! What
should a man do but be merry?for
look you how cheerfully my
mother looks, and my father
diedwithin 's two hours.
Oph.Nay, 'tis twice two months,
my lord.
Ham.So long? Nay then, let the
devil wear black, for I'll
have asuit of sables. O heavens!
die two months ago, and not
forgottenyet? Then there's
hope a great man's memory may
outlive his lifehalf a year:
but, by'r lady, he must build
churches then; or elseshall
he suffer not thinking on,
with the hobby-horse, whoseepitaph
is 'For, O, for, O, the hobby-horse
is forgot!'
[Trumpets sound. The dumb show
enters.]
[Enter a King and a Queen very
lovingly; the Queen embracinghim
and he her. She kneels, and
makes show of protestationunto
him. He takes her up, and declines
his head upon herneck: lays
him down upon a bank of flowers:
she, seeinghim asleep, leaves
him. Anon comes in a fellow,
takes off hiscrown, kisses
it, pours poison in the king's
ears, and exit. TheQueen returns,
finds the King dead, and makes
passionate action.The Poisoner
with some three or four Mutes,
comes in again,seeming to lament
with her. The dead body is
carried away. ThePoisoner wooes
the Queen with gifts; she seems
loth and unwillingawhile, but
in the end accepts his love.]
[Exeunt.]
Oph.What means this, my lord?
Ham.Marry, this is miching mallecho;
it means mischief.
Oph.Belike this show imports
the argument of the play.
[Enter Prologue.]
Ham.We shall know by this fellow:
the players cannot keep counsel;they'll
tell all.
Oph.Will he tell us what this
show meant?
Ham.Ay, or any show that you'll
show him: be not you ashamed
toshow, he'll not shame to
tell you what it means.
Oph.You are naught, you are naught:
I'll mark the play.
Pro. For us, and for our tragedy,
Here stooping to your clemency,
We beg your hearing patiently.
Ham.Is this a prologue, or the
posy of a ring?
Oph.'Tis brief, my lord.
Ham.As woman's love.
[Enter a King and a Queen.]
P. King.Full thirty times hath
Phoebus' cart gone roundNeptune's
salt wash and Tellus' orbed
ground,And thirty dozen moons
with borrow'd sheenAbout the
world have times twelve thirties
been,Since love our hearts,
and Hymen did our hands,Unite
commutual in most sacred bands.
P. Queen.So many journeys may
the sun and moonMake 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:For
women's fear and love holds
quantity;In neither aught,
or in extremity.Now, what my
love is, proof hath made you
know;And as my love is siz'd,
my fear is so:Where love is
great, the littlest doubts
are fear;Where little fears
grow great, great love grows
there.
P. King.Faith, I must leave thee,
love, and shortly too;My operant
powers their functions leave
to do:And thou shalt live in
this fair world behind,Honour'd,
belov'd, and haply one as kindFor
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.
Ham.[Aside.] Wormwood, wormwood!
P. Queen.The instances that second
marriage moveAre base respects
of thrift, but none of love.A
second time I kill my husband
deadWhen second husband kisses
me in bed.
P. King.I do believe you think
what now you speak;But what
we do determine oft we break.Purpose
is but the slave to memory;Of
violent birth, but poor validity:Which
now, like fruit unripe, sticks
on the tree;But fall unshaken
when they mellow be.Most necessary
'tis that we forgetTo pay ourselves
what to ourselves is debt:What
to ourselves in passion we
propose,The passion ending,
doth the purpose lose.The violence
of either grief or joyTheir
own enactures with themselves
destroy:Where joy most revels,
grief doth most lament;Grief
joys, joy grieves, on slender
accident.This world is not
for aye; nor 'tis not strangeThat
even our loves should with
our fortunes change;For 'tis
a question left us yet to prove,Whether
love lead fortune, or else
fortune love.The great man
down, you mark his favourite
flies,The poor advanc'd makes
friends of enemies;And hitherto
doth love on fortune tend:For
who not needs shall never lack
a friend;And who in want a
hollow friend doth try,Directly
seasons him his enemy.But,
orderly to end where I begun,--Our
wills and fates do so contrary
runThat our devices still are
overthrown;Our thoughts are
ours, their ends none of our
own:So think thou wilt no second
husband wed;But die thy thoughts
when thy first lord is dead.
P. Queen.Nor earth to me give
food, nor heaven light!Sport
and repose lock from me day
and night!To desperation turn
my trust and hope!An anchor's
cheer in prison be my scope!Each
opposite that blanks the face
of joyMeet what I would have
well, and it destroy!Both here
and hence pursue me lasting
strife,If, once a widow, ever
I be wife!
Ham.If she should break it now!
[To Ophelia.]
P. King.'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet,
leave me here awhile;My spirits
grow dull, and fain I would
beguileThe tedious day with
sleep.[Sleeps.]
P. Queen.Sleep rock thy brain,And
never come mischance between
us twain!
[Exit.]
Ham.Madam, how like you this
play?
Queen.The lady protests too much,
methinks.
Ham.O, but she'll keep her word.
King.Have you heard the argument?
Is there no offence in't?
Ham.No, no! They do but jest,
poison in jest; no offence
i' theworld.
King.What do you call the play?
Ham.The Mouse-trap. Marry, how?
Tropically. This play is theimage
of a murder done in Vienna:
Gonzago is the duke's name;his
wife, Baptista: you shall see
anon; 'tis a knavish piece
ofwork: but what o' that? your
majesty, and we that have freesouls,
it touches us not: let the
gall'd jade wince; our withersare
unwrung.
[Enter Lucianus.]
This is one Lucianus, nephew
to the King.
Oph.You are a good chorus, my
lord.
Ham.I could interpret between
you and your love, if I could
seethe puppets dallying.
Oph.You are keen, my lord, you
are keen.
Ham.It would cost you a groaning
to take off my edge.
Oph.Still better, and worse.
Ham.So you must take your husbands.--Begin,
murderer; pox, leavethy damnable
faces, and begin. Come:--'The
croaking raven dothbellow for
revenge.'
Luc.Thoughts black, hands apt,
drugs fit, and time agreeing;Confederate
season, else no creature seeing;Thou
mixture rank, of midnight weeds
collected,With Hecate's ban
thrice blasted, thrice infected,Thy
natural magic and dire propertyOn
wholesome life usurp immediately.
[Pours the poison into the sleeper's
ears.]
Ham.He poisons him i' the garden
for's estate. His name's Gonzago:The
story is extant, and written
in very choice Italian; youshall
see anon how the murderer gets
the love of Gonzago's wife.
Oph.The King rises.
Ham.What, frighted with false
fire!
Queen.How fares my lord?
Pol.Give o'er the play.
King.Give me some light:--away!
All.Lights, lights, lights!
[Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horatio.]
Ham. Why, let the strucken deer
go weep, The hart ungalled
play; For some must watch,
while some must sleep: So runs
the world away.--Would not
this, sir, and a forest of
feathers--if the rest of myfortunes
turn Turk with me,--with two
Provincial roses on myrazed
shoes, get me a fellowship
in a cry of players, sir?
Hor.Half a share.
Ham. A whole one, I. For thou
dost know, O Damon dear, This
realm dismantled was Of Jove
himself; and now reigns here
A very, very--pajock.
Hor.You might have rhymed.
Ham.O good Horatio, I'll take
the ghost's word for a thousandpound!
Didst perceive?
Hor.Very well, my lord.
Ham.Upon the talk of the poisoning?--
Hor.I did very well note him.
Ham.Ah, ha!--Come, some music!
Come, the recorders!-- For
if the king like not the comedy,
Why then, belike he likes it
not, perdy.Come, some music!
[Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.]
Guil.Good my lord, vouchsafe
me a word with you.
Ham.Sir, a whole history.
Guil.The king, sir--
Ham.Ay, sir, what of him?
Guil.Is, in his retirement, marvellous
distempered.
Ham.With drink, sir?
Guil.No, my lord; rather with
choler.
Ham.Your wisdom should show itself
more richer to signify this
tothe doctor; for me to put
him to his purgation would
perhapsplunge him into far
more choler.
Guil.Good my lord, put your discourse
into some frame, and startnot
so wildly from my affair.
Ham.I am tame, sir:--pronounce.
Guil.The queen, your mother,
in most great affliction of
spirit,hath sent me to you.
Ham.You are welcome.
Guil.Nay, good my lord, this
courtesy is not of the right
breed.If it shall please you
to make me a wholesome answer,
I will doyour mother's commandment:
if not, your pardon and my
returnshall be the end of my
business.
Ham.Sir, I cannot.
Guil.What, my lord?
Ham.Make you a wholesome answer;
my wit's diseased: but, sir,
suchanswer as I can make, you
shall command; or rather, as
you say,my mother: therefore
no more, but to the matter:
my mother, yousay,--
Ros.Then thus she says: your
behaviour hath struck her intoamazement
and admiration.
Ham.O wonderful son, that can
so stonish a mother!--But is
there nosequel at the heels
of this mother's admiration?
Ros.She desires to speak with
you in her closet ere you go
to bed.
Ham.We shall obey, were she ten
times our mother. Have you
anyfurther trade with us?
Ros.My lord, you once did love
me.
Ham.And so I do still, by these
pickers and stealers.
Ros.Good my lord, what is your
cause of distemper? you do,
surely,bar the door upon your
own liberty if you deny your
griefs toyour friend.
Ham.Sir, I lack advancement.
Ros.How can that be, when you
have the voice of the king
himselffor your succession
in Denmark?
Ham.Ay, sir, but 'While the grass
grows'--the proverb is somethingmusty.
[Re-enter the Players, with recorders.]
O, the recorders:--let me see
one.--To withdraw with you:--why
doyou go about to recover the
wind of me, as if you would
drive meinto a toil?
Guil.O my lord, if my duty be
too bold, my love is too unmannerly.
Ham.I do not well understand
that. Will you play upon this
pipe?
Guil.My lord, I cannot.
Ham.I pray you.
Guil.Believe me, I cannot.
Ham.I do beseech you.
Guil.I know, no touch of it,
my lord.
Ham.'Tis as easy as lying: govern
these ventages with yourfinger
and thumb, give it breath with
your mouth, and it willdiscourse
most eloquent music. Look you,
these are the stops.
Guil.But these cannot I command
to any utterance of harmony;
Ihave not the skill.
Ham.Why, look you now, how unworthy
a thing you make of me! Youwould
play upon me; you would seem
to know my stops; you wouldpluck
out the heart of my mystery;
you would sound me from mylowest
note to the top of my compass;
and there is much music,excellent
voice, in this little organ,
yet cannot you make itspeak.
'Sblood, do you think I am
easier to be played on than
apipe? Call me what instrument
you will, though you can fret
me,you cannot play upon me.
[Enter Polonius.]
God bless you, sir!
Pol.My lord, the queen would
speak with you, and presently.
Ham.Do you see yonder cloud that's
almost in shape of a camel?
Pol.By the mass, and 'tis like
a camel indeed.
Ham.Methinks it is like a weasel.
Pol.It is backed like a weasel.
Ham.Or like a whale.
Pol.Very like a whale.
Ham.Then will I come to my mother
by and by.--They fool me to
thetop of my bent.--I will
come by and by.
Pol.I will say so.
[Exit.]
Ham.By-and-by is easily said.
[Exit Polonius.]
--Leave me, friends.
[Exeunt Ros, Guil., Hor., and
Players.]
'Tis now the very witching time
of night,When churchyards yawn,
and hell itself breathes outContagion
to this world: now could I
drink hot blood,And do such
bitter business as the dayWould
quake to look on. Soft! now
to my mother.--O heart, lose
not thy nature; let not everThe
soul of Nero enter this firm
bosom:Let me be cruel, not
unnatural;I will speak daggers
to her, but use none;My tongue
and soul in this be hypocrites,--How
in my words somever she be
shent,To give them seals never,
my soul, consent!
[Exit.]
Scene III. A room in the Castle.
[Enter King, Rosencrantz, and
Guildenstern.]
King.I like him not; nor stands
it safe with usTo let his madness
range. Therefore prepare you;I
your commission will forthwith
dispatch,And he to England
shall along with you:The terms
of our estate may not endureHazard
so near us as doth hourly growOut
of his lunacies.
Guil.We will ourselves provide:Most
holy and religious fear it
isTo keep those many many bodies
safeThat live and feed upon
your majesty.
Ros.The single and peculiar life
is bound,With all the strength
and armour of the mind,To keep
itself from 'noyance; but much
moreThat spirit upon whose
weal depend and restThe lives
of many. The cease of majestyDies
not alone; but like a gulf
doth drawWhat's near it with
it: it is a massy wheel,Fix'd
on the summit of the highest
mount,To whose huge spokes
ten thousand lesser thingsAre
mortis'd and adjoin'd; which,
when it falls,Each small annexment,
petty consequence,Attends the
boisterous ruin. Never aloneDid
the king sigh, but with a general
groan.
King.Arm you, I pray you, to
this speedy voyage;For we will
fetters put upon this fear,Which
now goes too free-footed.
Ros and Guil.We will haste us.
[Exeunt Ros. and Guil.]
[Enter Polonius.]
Pol.My lord, he's going to his
mother's closet:Behind the
arras I'll convey myselfTo
hear the process; 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'erhearThe 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.
[Exit 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 handWere
thicker than itself with brother's
blood,--Is there not rain enough
in the sweet heavensTo wash
it white as snow? Whereto serves
mercyBut to confront the visage
of offence?And what's in prayer
but this twofold 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 prayerCan serve my turn?
Forgive me my foul murder!--That
cannot be; since I am still
possess'dOf 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
worldOffence's gilded hand
may shove by justice;And oft
'tis seen the wicked prize
itselfBuys out the law; but
'tis not so above;There is
no shuffling;--there the action
liesIn his true nature; and
we ourselves compell'd,Even
to the teeth and forehead of
our faults,To give in evidence.
What then? what rests?Try what
repentance can: what can it
not?Yet what can it when one
cannot repent?O wretched state!
O bosom 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 steel,Be soft as sinews
of the new-born babe!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 sendTo heaven.O, this
is hire and salary, not revenge.He
took my father grossly, full
of bread;With all his crimes
broad blown, as flush 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?No.Up, sword, and know
thou a more horrid hent:When
he is drunk asleep; or in his
rage;Or in the incestuous pleasure
of his bed;At gaming, swearing;
or about some actThat 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 blackAs
hell, whereto it goes. My mother
stays:This physic but prolongs
thy sickly days.
[Exit.]
[The King rises and advances.]
King.My words fly up, my thoughts
remain below:Words without
thoughts never to heaven go.
[Exit.]
Scene IV. Another room in the
castle.
[Enter Queen and Polonius.]
Pol.He will come straight. Look
you lay home to him:Tell him
his pranks have been too broad
to bear with,And that your
grace hath screen'd and stood
betweenMuch heat and him. I'll
silence me e'en here.Pray you,
be round with him.
Ham.[Within.] Mother, mother,
mother!
Queen.I'll warrant you:Fear me
not:--withdraw; I hear him
coming.
[Polonius goes behind the arras.]
[Enter Hamlet.]
Ham.Now, mother, what's the matter?
Queen.Hamlet, thou hast thy father
much offended.
Ham.Mother, you have my father
much offended.
Queen.Come, come, you answer
with an idle tongue.
Ham.Go, go, you question with
a wicked tongue.
Queen.Why, how now, Hamlet!
Ham.What's the matter now?
Queen.Have you forgot me?
Ham.No, by the rood, 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 glassWhere
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,
help, help!
Ham.How now? a rat? [Draws.]Dead
for a ducat, dead!
[Makes a pass through the arras.]
Pol.[Behind.] O, I am slain!
[Falls and dies.]
Queen.O me, what hast thou done?
Ham.Nay, I know not: is it the
king?
[Draws forth Polonius.]
Queen.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![To Polonius.]I took
thee for thy better: take thy
fortune;Thou find'st to be
too busy is some danger.--Leave
wringing of your hands: peace!
sit you down,And let me wring
your heart: for so I shall,If
it be made of penetrable stuff;If
damned custom have not braz'd
it soThat it is proof and bulwark
against sense.
Queen.What have I done, that
thou dar'st wag thy tongueIn
noise so rude against me?
Ham.Such an actThat blurs the
grace and blush of modesty;Calls
virtue hypocrite; takes off
the roseFrom the fair forehead
of an innocent love,And sets
a blister there; makes marriage-vowsAs
false as dicers' oaths: O,
such a deedAs from the body
of contraction plucksThe very
soul, and sweet religion makesA
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 MercuryNew 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 milldew'd
earBlasting 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 ageThe
hey-day in the blood is tame,
it's humble,And waits upon
the judgment: and what judgmentWould
step from this to this? Sense,
sure, you have,Else could you
not have motion: but sure that
senseIs apoplex'd; for madness
would not err;Nor sense to
ecstacy was ne'er so thrall'dBut
it reserv'd some quantity of
choiceTo serve in such a difference.
What devil was'tThat 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
senseCould 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 shameWhen the compulsive
ardour gives the charge,Since
frost itself as actively doth
burn,And reason panders will.
Queen.O Hamlet, speak no more:Thou
turn'st mine eyes into my very
soul;And there I see such black
and grained spotsAs will not
leave their tinct.
Ham.Nay, but to liveIn the rank
sweat of an enseamed bed,Stew'd
in corruption, honeying and
making loveOver the nasty sty,--
Queen.O, speak to me no more;These
words like daggers enter in
mine ears;No more, sweet Hamlet.
Ham.A murderer and a villain;A
slave that is not twentieth
part the titheOf your precedent
lord; a vice of kings;A cutpurse
of the empire and the rule,That
from a shelf the precious diadem
stoleAnd put it in his pocket!
Queen.No more.
Ham.A king of shreds and patches!--
[Enter Ghost.]
Save me and hover o'er me with
your wings,You heavenly guards!--What
would your gracious figure?
Queen.Alas, he's mad!
Ham.Do you not come your tardy
son to chide,That, laps'd in
time and passion, lets go byThe
important acting of your dread
command?O, say!
Ghost.Do not forget. This visitationIs
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 the incorporal air do
hold discourse?Forth at your
eyes your spirits wildly peep;And,
as the sleeping soldiers in
the alarm,Your bedded hairs,
like life in excrements,Start
up and stand an end. O gentle
son,Upon the heat and flame
of thy distemperSprinkle 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 convertMy
stern effects: then what I
have to doWill 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 away!My father,
in his habit as he liv'd!Look,
where he goes, even now out
at the portal!
[Exit Ghost.]
Queen.This is the very coinage
of your brain:This bodiless
creation ecstasyIs very cunning
in.
Ham.Ecstasy!My pulse, as yours,
doth temperately keep time,And
makes as healthful music: it
is not madnessThat I have utter'd:
bring me to the test,And I
the matter will re-word; which
madnessWould gambol from. Mother,
for love of grace,Lay not that
flattering unction to your
soulThat not your trespass,
but my madness speaks:It will
but skin and film the ulcerous
place,Whilst 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 timesVirtue
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 twain.
Ham.O, throw away the worser
part of it,And live the purer
with the other half.Good night:
but go not to mine uncle's
bed;Assume a virtue, if you
have it not.That monster custom,
who all sense doth eat,Of habits
evil, is angel yet in this,--That
to the use of actions fair
and goodHe likewise gives a
frock or liveryThat aptly is
put on. Refrain to-night;And
that shall lend a kind of easinessTo
the next abstinence: the next
more easy;For use almost can
change the stamp of nature,And
either curb the devil, or throw
him outWith wondrous potency.
Once more, good-night:And when
you are desirous to be bles'd,I'll
blessing beg of you.--For this
same lord[Pointing to Polonius.]I
do repent; but heaven hath
pleas'd it so,To punish me
with this, and this with me,That
I must be their scourge and
minister.I will bestow him,
and will answer wellThe death
I gave him. So again, good-night.--I
must be cruel, only to be kind:Thus
bad begins, and worse remains
behind.--One word more, good
lady.
Queen.What shall I do?
Ham.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 creepAnd break
your own neck down.
Queen.Be thou assur'd, if words
be made of breath,And breath
of life, I have no life to
breatheWhat 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 seal'd: and
my two schoolfellows,--Whom
I will trust as I will adders
fang'd,--They bear the mandate;
they must sweep my wayAnd marshal
me to knavery. Let it work;For
'tis the sport to have the
enginerHoist with his own petard:
and 't shall go hardBut I will
delve one yard below their
minesAnd 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 counsellorIs
now most still, most secret,
and most grave,Who was in life
a foolish peating knave.Come,
sir, to draw toward an end
with you:--Good night, mother.
[Exeunt severally; Hamlet, dragging
out Polonius.]
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