[ clock tower bell tolling ] [ bell tolling continues ] [ tolling ] [ thunder rumbling ] [ voice shriekingin the distance ] [ dog whines ] [ wind howling ] [ shrieking continues ] who's there?
nay, answer me.stand and unfold yourself. long live the king! barnardo? he! you come most carefullyupon your hour. 'tis now struck twelve.get thee to bed,francisco. for this relief much thanks.'tis bitter cold,and i am sick at heart. have you had quiet guard? not a mouse stirring.
well, good night. if you do meet horatioand marcellus, the rivals ofmy watch, bid them make haste. i think i hear them.stand, ho! who is there? friends to this ground. and liegemento the dane. give you good night. farewell, honest soldier.and who hath relieved you? barnardo has my place.give you good night. holla, barnardo!
what, is horatio there? a piece of him. welcome, horatio.welcome, good marcellus. - what, has this thingappeared again tonight?- i have seen nothing. horatio says 'tis butour fantasy, and will not letbelief take hold of him... touching this dreaded sighttwice seen of us. therefore i have entreated him along with us to watch the minutes of this night, that if again this apparitioncome, he may approve our eyesand speak to it. tush, tush,'twill not appear.
sit down awhile, and let us once againassail your ears, which areso fortified against our story, what we two nightshave seen. well, sit we down,and let us hearbarnardo speak of this. last night of all,when yond same star that'swestward from the pole, had made his courseto illume that part of heavenwhere now it burns, marcellus and myself,the bell then beating one-- peace, break thee off.look where it comes again! [ barnardo ]in the same figureas the king that's dead.
thou art a scholar.speak to it, horatio. looks it not like the king? most like. it harrows mewith fear and wonder. it would be spoke to. speak to it, horatio. what art thou that usurpsthis time of night... together with that fairand warlike form... in whichthe majesty of buried denmarkdid sometimes march? by heaven i charge thee,speak!
it is offended. it stalks away! stay! speak, speak!i charge thee, speak! 'tis gone,and will not answer. you tremble and look pale.is not this somethingmore than fantasy? what think you on 't? before my god,i might not this believe... without the sensible andtrue avouch of mine own eyes. is it not like the king?
as thou art to thyself. such was the very armorhe had on when hethe ambitious norway combated. so frowned he once when inan angry parle, he smote thesledded polacks on the ice. 'tis strange. thus twice before,and jump at this dead hour, with martial stalkhath he gone by our watch. in what particular thoughtto work i know not, but in the gross andscope of my opinion... this bodes some strangeeruption to our state.
good now, look here andtell me, he that knows, why this same strictand most observant watch... so nightly toilsthe subject of the land; and why such daily cast ofbrazen cannon and foreign martfor implements of war; why such impress of shipwrights,whose sore task does not dividethe sunday from the week; what might be toward, that thissweaty haste doth make the nightjoint laborer with the day. who is 'tthat can inform me? that can i, at least the whisper goes so. our last king, whose imageeven but now appeared to us,
was, as you know,by fortinbras of norway, thereto pricked onby a most emulate pride, dared to the combat,in which our valiant hamlet-- for so this side ofour known world esteemed him-- did slay this fortinbras. who by a sealed compact,well ratifiedby law and heraldry, did forfeit, with his life,all those his lands... which he stood seized ofto the conqueror. against the which, a moietycompetent was gaged by our king,
which had returned to theinheritance of fortinbras... had he been vanquisher, as bythe same covenant and carriageof the article designed... his fell to hamlet. [ horatio ]now, sir, young fortinbras, ofunimproved mettle hot and full, hath in the skirts of norwayhere and there sharked upa list of landless resolutes, for food and diet,to some enterprisethat hath a stomach in 't. which is no other-- and it dothwell appear unto our state-- but to recover of us, by stronghand and terms compulsatory, those foresaid landsso by his father lost.
this, i take it, is themain motive of our preparations, the source of this our watchand the chief head... of this posthasteand romage in the land. i think it be no otherbut e'en so. well may it sort thatthis portentous figure... comes armedthrough our watch, so like the kingthat was and isthe question of these wars. a mote it isto trouble the mind's eye. in the most high and palmystate of rome, a little erethe mightiest julius fell,
the graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted deaddid squeak and gibberin the roman streets. and even the like precurseof feared events, as harbingers precedingstill the fates and prologueto the omen coming on, have heaven and earthtogether demonstrated untoour climatures and countrymen. as stars with trains of fireand dews of blood, disasters in the sun, and the moist starupon whose influenceneptune's empire stands... was sick almost to doomsdaywith eclipse.
but soft, behold!lo where it comes again! i'll cross it,though it blast me.stay, illusion! if thou hast any sound,or use of voice, speak to me. if there be any good thingto be done... that may to thee do easeand grace to me, speak to me. if thou art privyto thy country's fate, which, happily, foreknowingmay avoid, oh, speak! or if thou hast uphoardedin thy life extorted treasurein the womb of earth, for which, they say,you spirits oft walk in death,stay and speak!
stop it, marcellus. shall i strike at itwith my partisan? do, if it will not stand. 'tis here! 'tis here! [ partisan clatters on ground ] 'tis gone. we do it wrong,being so majestical, tooffer it the show of violence, for it is as the airinvulnerable,
and our vain blowsmalicious mockery. [ barnardo ]it was about to speakwhen the cock crew. and then it started... like a guilty thingupon a fearful summons. i have heard the cock, that isthe trumpet to the morn, doth with his loftyand shrill-sounding throat... awake the god of day, and at his warning,whether in sea or fire,in earth or air, the extravagant and erringspirit hies to his confine.
and of the truthherein this present objectmade probation. it faded on the crowingof the cock. some say that ever 'gainstthat season comes... wherein our savior's birthis celebrated, the bird of dawningsingeth all night long. and then, they say,no spirit can walk abroad, the nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, no fairy takes norwitch hath power to charm,
so hallowed and so graciousis the time. so have i heardand do in part believe it. but look, the mornin russet mantle clad, walks o'er the dewof yon high eastward hill. break we our watch up,and by my advice... let us impartwhat we have seen tonightunto young hamlet, for upon my life,this spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him. do you consent we shallacquaint him with it, as needfulin our loves, fitting our duty?
let's do it, i pray. and i this morning knowwhere we shall find himmost conveniently. though yet of hamletour dear brother's death... the memory be green, and that it us befittedto bear our hearts in grief... and our whole kingdom to becontracted in one brow of woe, yet so far hath discretionfought with nature... that we with wisest sorrowthink on him, together with remembranceof ourselves.
thereforeour sometime sister, now our queen, the imperial jointressof this warlike state, have we, as 'twerewith a defeated joy-- with one auspiciousand one dropping eye, with mirth in funeraland with dirge in marriage, in equal scale weighingdelight and dole-- taken to wife. nor have we herein barredyour better wisdoms,
which have freely gonewith this affair along. for all, our thanks. [ crowd cheering ] now follows that you know. young fortinbras,holding a weak supposalof our worth, or thinking by our latedear brother's death... our state to be disjointand out of frame, colleagued with the dreamof his advantage, he hath not failed topester us with message...
importing the surrenderof those lands lostby his father, with all bonds of law,to our most valiant brother. so much for him. now for ourself, andfor this time of meeting. thus much the business is:we have here... writ to norway,uncle of young fortinbras-- who, impotent and bedrid, scarcely hears of this his nephew's purpose-- to suppress his further gaitherein, in that the levies, the lists and full proportions,are all made out of his subject.
and we here dispatch you,good cornelius,and you, voltemand, for bearers of this greetingto old norway, giving you no furtherpersonal power to businesswith the king... more than the scope ofthese delated articles allow. farewell, and let your hastecommend your duty. in that and all thingswill we show our duty. we doubt it nothing.heartily farewell. [ applause ] and now, laertes, what's the news with you?
you told us of some suit-- what is 't, laertes? you cannot speak of reasonto the dane and lose your voice. what wouldst thou beg,laertes, that shall not bemy offer, not thy asking? the head is not more nativeto the heart, the hand more instrumentalto the mouth, than is the throne ofdenmark to thy father. what wouldst thou have, laertes? my dread lord, your leaveand favor to return to france, from whence though willinglyi came to denmark to showmy duty in your coronation,
yet now, i must confess,that duty done, my thoughts and wishesbend again toward france... and bow them to yourgracious leave and pardon. have you your father's leave?what says polonius? he hath, my lord,wrung from me my slow leaveby laborsome petition, and at last upon his willi sealed my hard consent. i do beseech yougive him leave to go. take thy fair hour, laertes,time be thine, and thy best gracesspend it at thy will!
[ applause continues ] [ applause slows, stops ] but now, my cousin hamlet,and my son-- a little more than kinand less than kind. how is it that the cloudsstill hang on you? not so, my lord. i am too much i' the sun. good hamlet, castthy nighted color off, and let thine eyelook like a friend on denmark.
do not foreverwith thy vailed lids... seek for thy noble fatherin the dust. thou know'st 'tis common-- all that lives must die,passing through natureto eternity. aye, madam, it is common. if it be, why seems itso particular with thee? "seems," madam?nay, it is.i know not "seems." 'tis not alone my inky cloak,good mother, nor customary suitsof solemn black,
nor windy suspirationof forced breath-- no, nor the fruitful riverin the eye, nor the dejected haviorof the visage, together with all forms,moods, shapes of grief--that can denote me truly. these indeed seem,for they are actionsthat a man might play. but i have that within... which passeth show, these but the trappingsand the suits of woe. 'tis sweet and commendable in your nature, hamlet,
to give these mourning dutiesto your father. but you must knowyour father lost a father, that father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound in filialobligation for some term... to do obsequious sorrow. but to persever in obstinatecondolement is a courseof impious stubbornness, 'tis unmanly grief. it shows a will most incorrectto heaven, a heart unfortified, a mind impatient,an understandingsimple and unschooled.
for what we know must be... and is as common as anythe most vulgar thing to sense, why should we in our peevishopposition take it to heart? fie! 'tis a fault to heaven,a fault against the dead, a fault to nature, to reason most absurd, whose common themeis death of fathers,and who still hath cried, from the first corpse'til he that died today,"this must be so." we pray you... throw to earththis unprevailing woe,
and think of usas of a father. for let the world take note, you are the mostimmediate to our throne, and with no less nobilityof love... than that which dearest fatherbears his son do i imparttoward you. for your intent in going backto school in wittenberg, it is most retrogradeto our desire. we beseech you, bend you,to remain here in the cheerand comfort of our eye, our chiefest courtier,cousin, and our son.
let not thy motherlose her prayers, hamlet. i pray thee, stay with us,go not to wittenberg. i shall in all my bestobey you, madam. why, 'tis a lovingand a fair reply. be as ourself in denmark. madam, come. this gentle andunforced accord of hamletsits smiling to my heart. in grace whereof,no jocund healththat denmark drinks today... but the great cannonto the clouds shall tell,
and the king's rousethe heaven shall bruit again. respeakingearthly thunder. come away. oh, that thistoo, too solid flesh would melt, thaw, and resolve itselfinto a dew! or that the everlastinghad not fixed his canon'gainst self-slaughter. oh, god! god! how weary, stale, flatand unprofitable... seem to meall the uses of this world!
fie on 't, ah, fie!'tis an unweeded garden, that grows to seed, thingsrank and gross in nature. possess it merely.that it should come to this! but two months dead! nay, not so much, not two. so excellent a king,that was, to this, hyperion to a satyr. so loving to my motherthat he might not beteemthe winds of heaven... visit her face too roughly.
heaven and earth!must i remember? why, she would hang on himas if increase of appetitehad grown by what it fed on. and yet within a month--let me not think on 't. frailty,thy name is woman! a little month, or erethose shoes were old... with which she followedmy poor father's body, like niobe all tears. why she, even she--oh, god! a beast that wantsdiscourse of reasonwould have mourned longer--
married with my uncle, my father's brother,but no more like my fatherthan i to hercules. within a month, ere yet the saltof most unrighteous tears... had left the flushingin her galled eyes, she married. oh, most wicked speed, to post with such dexterityto incestuous sheets. it is not, nor it cannot, come to good.
but break, my heart, for i must hold my tongue. [ sighs ] hail to your lordship! i am glad to see thee well. horatio-- or i do forget myself. the same, my lord,and your poor servant ever. sir, my good friend.i'll change that namewith you.
what make youfrom wittenberg,horatio? marcellus! my good lord. i am very glad to see you.good even, sir. but what, in faith,make you from wittenberg? [ horatio ]a truant disposition,good my lord. i would not hear your enemysay so, nor shall youdo mine ear that violence... to make it truster of yourown report against yourself. i know you are no truant. but what is your affairin elsinore?
we'll teach you todrink deep ere you depart. my lord, i came to seeyour father's funeral. i pray thee do not mock me,fellow student. i think it wasto see my mother's wedding. indeed, my lord,it followed hard upon. thrift, thrift, horatio!the funeral baked meats... did coldly furnish forththe marriage tables. would i had metmy dearest foe in heaven... or ever i had seenthat day, horatio. my father--
methinksi see my father. where, my lord? in my mind's eye,horatio. i saw him once. he was a goodly king. he was a man,take him for all in all. i shall not lookupon his like again. my lord, i... think... i saw him yesternight.
[ whispering ]saw? who? my lord, the king... [ whispers ]your father. the king my father? season your admirationfor a while with an attent eartill i may deliver, upon the witnessof these gentlemen,this marvel to you. for god's love, let me hear. two nights togetherhad these gentlemen,marcellus and barnardo, on their watch in the dead wasteof the middle of the night,been thus encountered.
a figure like your father,armed at all points exactly, cap-a-pie,appears before them... and with solemn marchgoes slow and stately by them. thrice he walked bytheir oppressed andfear-surprised eyes... within his truncheon's length,whilst they, distilled almostto jelly with the act of fear, stand dumb,and speak not to him. this to me in dreadful secrecyimpart they did. and i with them the third nightkept the watch. where, as they had delivered,both in time,
form of the thing,each word made true and good, the apparition comes. i knew your father. these handsare not more like. - where was this?- upon the platformwhere we watched. - did you not speak to it?- my lord, i did,but answer made it none. yet once methoughtit lifted up its head anddid address itself to motion, like as it would speak. but even thenthe morning cock crew loud,
and at the soundit shrunk in haste awayand vanished from our sight. - 'tis very strange.- as i do live,my honored lord, 'tis true, and we did think itwrit down in our dutyto let you know of it. indeed, indeed, sirs,but this troubles me. hold you the watch tonight? [ barnardo ]my lord, we do. armed, say you? armed, my lord. from top to toe?
my lord, from head to foot. - then saw you not his face?- oh, yes, my lord,he wore his beaver up. what, looked he frowningly? a countenance more in sorrowthan in anger. - pale, or red?- very pale. - and fixed his eyes upon you?- most constantly. - i would i had been there.- it would have much amazed you. very like, very like. stayed it long?
while one with moderate hastemight tell a hundred. - longer.- not when i saw it. his beard was grizzled? no? it was as i have seen itin his life, a sable silvered. i will watch tonight.perchance 'twill walk again. i warrant you it will. if it assumemy noble father's person, i'll speak to itthough hell itself... should gape and bid mehold my peace.
i pray you all, if you havehitherto concealed this sight, let it be tenablein your silence still and... whatsoever elseshall hap tonight, give it an understanding,but no tongue. i will requite your loves. so fare you well. eh! [ door closes ] upon the platform, 'twixt elevenand twelve, i'll visit you. our duty to your honor.
your loves, as mine to you.farewell. [ thinking ]my father's spirit in arms!all is not well. i doubt some foul play. would the night were come. till then sit still,my soul. [ panting ] foul deeds will rise, though all the earthoverwhelm them, to men's eyes. my necessaries are embarked.farewell.
and, sister,as the winds give benefitand convoy is assistant, do not sleep,but let me hear from you. do you doubt that? for hamlet, andthe trifling of his favor, hold it a fashionand a toy in blood, a violet in the youthof primy nature, forward, not permanent,sweet, not lasting, the perfume and supplianceof a minute-- no more.
no more but so? think it no more.for nature crescent does notgrow alone in thews and bulk, but as this temple waxesthe inward service of the mindand soul grows wide withal. perhaps he loves you now, and now no soilnor cautel doth besmirchthe virtue of his will. but you must fear,his greatness weighed, his will is not his own, for he himselfis subject to his birth. he may not,as unvalued persons do,carve for himself,
for on his choice dependsthe sanity and healthof the whole state, and therefore musthis choice be circumscribedunto the voice and yielding... of that bodywhereof he is the head. then if he says he loves you,it fits your wisdom so farto believe it... as he in hisparticular act and placemay give his saying deed, which is no furtherthan the main voiceof denmark goes withal. then weigh what lossyour honor may sustain... if with too credent earyou list his songs, or lose your heart,
or your chaste treasureopen to his unmasteredimportunity. fear it, ophelia,fear it, my dear sister, and keep within the rearof your affection, out of the shotand danger of desire. the chariest maid isprodigal enough if sheunmask her beauty to the moon. virtue itself 'scapesnot calumnious strokes. the canker galls the infantsof the spring too oft... before their buttonsbe disclosed, and in the mornand liquid dew of youth...
contagious blastmentsare most imminent. be wary, then, best safety lies in fear. youth to itself rebels,though none else near. i shall the effectof this good lesson keepas watchman to my heart. but, good my brother,do not, as someungracious pastors do, show me the steepand thorny way to heaven... whilst, like a puffedand reckless libertine, himself the primrose pathof dalliance treadsand recks not his own rede. oh, fear me not.
i stay too long. [ polonius ] yet here, laertes! but here my father comes.a double blessingis a double grace. occasion smilesupon a second leave. aboard, aboard, for shame! the wind sits in theshoulder of your sailand you are stayed for. there, my blessingwith thee. and these few preceptsin thy memorysee thou character. give thy thoughts no tongue,nor any unproportioned thoughthis act.
be thou familiar,but by no means vulgar. the friends thou hast,and their adoption tried, grapple them to thy soulwith hoops of steel. but do not dullthy palm with entertainment... of each new-hatchedunfledged comrade. beware of entranceto a quarrel, but being in, bear it that the opposedmay beware of thee. give every man thy ear,but few thy voice. take each man's censure,but reserve thy judgment.
costly thy habitas thy purse can buy, but not expressed in fancy--rich, not gaudy. for the appareloft proclaims the man, and they in franceof the best rank and station... are of all most selectand generous chief in that. neither a borrowernor a lender be, for loan oft losesboth itself and friend... and borrowing dullsthe edge of husbandry. this above all:to thine own self be true,
and it must follow,as the night the day, thou canst not thenbe false to any man. farewell. my blessingseason this in thee. most humbly do i takemy leave, my lord. the time invites you.go, your servants tend. farewell, ophelia, and remember wellwhat i have said to you. 'tis in my memory locked,and you yourselfshall keep the key of it. farewell.
what is 't, ophelia,he hath said to you? [ bell tolling ] so please you, somethingtouching the lord hamlet. marry, well bethought. 'tis told mehe hath very oft of lategiven private time to you, and you yourself haveof your audience beenmost free and bounteous. if it be so--as so 'tis put on me,and that in way of caution-- i must tell youyou do not understandyourself so clearly... as it behooves my daughterand your honor.
what is between you? give me up the truth! he hath, my lord,of late made many tendersof his affection to me. affection? pooh!you speak like a green girl, unsifted in such perilous circumstance. do you believe his tenders,as you call them? i do not know, my lord,what i should think. marry, i'll teach you. think yourself a baby that youobtain his tenders for true pay,which are not sterling.
tender yourself more dearly or--not to crack the phrase--you'll tender me a fool. my lord, he hath importuned mewith love in honorable fashion. aye, fashion, you may call it.go to, go to. and hath given countenance tohis speech, my lord, with almostall the holy vows of heaven. aye, springesto catch woodcocks. i do know, when the blood burns,how prodigal the soul lendsthe tongue vows. these blazes, daughter,giving more light than heat, extinct in both, even intheir promise as it is a-making,you must not take for fire. from this time, daughter,be somewhat scanterof your maiden presence.
set your entreatment at a higher rate than a command to parley. for lord hamlet, believe so muchin him, that he is young, and with a larger tether may he walk than may be given you. in few, ophelia, do not believe his vows, for they are brokers, not of the dye whichtheir investments show, but mereimplorators of unholy suits, breathing likesanctified and pious bawdsthe better to beguile. this is for all.i would not, in plain terms,from this time forth... have you so slander any momentleisure as to give words or talkwith the lord hamlet. look to it, i charge you. come your ways.
[ thinking ]i shall... obey, my lord. the air bites shrewdly.it is very cold. it is a nippingand an eager air. what hour now? i think itlacks of twelve. no, it is struck. indeed...i heard it not. then it draws near the seasonwherein the spiritheld his wont to walk.
[ cannon fires ] what does this mean,my lord? the king doth wake tonight and takes his rouse, keeps wassail, and a swaggering upspring reels. as he drains his draughts of rhenish down, the kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out the triumph of his pledge. is it a custom? aye, marry, is 't. but to my mind, though i am native here and to the manner born,
it is a custom more honored in the breach than the observance. this heavy-headed revel east and west... makes us traducedand taxed of other nations. they clepe us drunkardsand with swinish phrasesoil our addition, and indeed it takesfrom our achievements, though performed at height,the pith and marrowof our attribute. so oft it chancesin particular men, that for some viciousmole of nature in them,as in their birth-- wherein they are notguilty, since naturecannot choose his origin--
by the o'ergrowthof some complexion, oft breaking down the palesand forts of reason, or by some habit thattoo much o'erleavens... the formof plausive manners,that these men-- carrying, i say, the stampof one defect, being nature'slivery, or fortune's star-- his virtues else--be they as pure as grace, as infinite as manmay undergo-- shall in the general censuretake corruption fromthat particular fault. the dram of evil dothall the noble substanceof a doubt to his own scandal.
[ gasps ] my lord, it comes! it beckons you to go awaywith it, as if some impartmentdid desire to you alone. look with what courteous actionit waves you to a more removedground. but do not go with it. - no, by no means.- it will not speak.then i will follow it. - do not, my lord!- why, what should be the fear? i do not set my life ata pin's fee, and for my soul, what can it do to that, beinga thing immortal as itself? it waves me forth again! i'll follow it. what if it tempt youtoward the flood, my lord,
or to the dreadful summitof the cliff that beetleso'er his base into the sea, and there assumesan other horrible form... which might depriveyour sovereignty of reasonand draw you into madness? think of it! the very placeputs toys of desperation,without more motive, into every brain that looksso many fathoms to the seaand hears it roar beneath. it wants me still.go on. i'll follow thee. - you shall not go!- hold off your hands! be ruled!you shall not go! my fate cries out,
and makes each petty arteryin this body as hardyas the nemean lion's nerve! still am i called.unhand me, gentlemen! by heaven, i'll makea ghost of him that lets me! i say, away! go on. i'll follow thee. he waxes desperatewith imagination. let's follow. 'tis not fit thus to obey him. have after.to what issue will this come? something is rottenin the state of denmark.
heaven will direct it. nay, let's follow him. [ thinking ]angels and ministersof grace defend us! be thou a spirit of healthor goblin damned, bring with thee airs fromheaven or blasts from hell, be thy intents wickedor charitable, thou comestin such a questionable shape... that i will speak to thee. i'll call thee hamlet,king, father, royal dane.oh, answer me! let me not burst in ignorance,
but tell whythy canonized bones,hearsed in death, have burst their cerements,why the sepulcher whereinwe saw thee quietly inurned... hath oped his ponderousand marble jawsto cast thee up again. what may this mean, that thou,dead corpse, again, in complete steel, revisits thusthe glimpses of the moon, making night hideous, andwe fools of nature so horridlyto shake our dispositions... with thoughts beyondthe reaches of our souls? say, why is this? wherefore?what should we do? [ hamlet panting ]
whither will thou lead me? speak. i'll go no further. [ ghost ]mark me. [ hamlet ] i will. my hour is almost comewhen i... to sulphurousand tormenting flamesmust render up myself. [ hamlet ]alas, poor ghost! pity me not,but lend thy serious hearingto what i shall unfold. [ hamlet ]speak. i am bound to hear.
[ ghost ]so art thou to revenge,when thou shalt hear. what? i am thy father's spirit, doomed for a certain termto walk the night... and for the day confinedto fast in fires... 'til the foul crimesdone in my days of nature... are burnt and purged away. but that i am forbid to tellthe secrets of my prison house, i could a tale unfold...
whose lightest wordwould harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, make thy two eyes, like stars,start from their spheres, thy knotted and combined locksto part... and each particular hairto stand on end... like quills uponthe fretful porcupine. but this eternal blazonmust not be... to ears of flesh and blood. list, hamlet. list.
oh, list! if thou didst everthy dear father love-- oh, god! revenge his fouland more unnatural murder. - murder?- murder most foul, as in the best it is,but this most foul, strange, and unnatural. haste me to know it,that i, with wingsas swift as meditation... or the thoughts of love,may sweep to my revenge.
i find thee apt,and duller shouldst thou bethan the fat weed... that roots itself in easeon lethe wharf wouldst thounot stir in this. now, hamlet, hear. 'tis given out that,sleeping in mine orchard,a serpent stung me-- so the whole ear of denmarkis by a forged processof my death... rankly abused. but know, thou noble youth,the serpent that did stingthy father's life... now wears his crown. oh, my prophetic soul!mine uncle!
aye, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, with witchcraft of his wit,with traitorous gifts-- o wicked wit and gifts, thathave the power so to seduce-- won to his shameful lust... the will of my mostseeming-virtuous queen. oh, hamlet, what a falling-off was there! from me, whose lovewas of that dignity...
that it went hand in handeven with the vow... i made to her in marriage, and to declineupon a wretch... whose natural gifts were poorto those of mine. but virtue,as it never will be moved... though lewdness court itin a shape of heaven, so lust, though toa radiant angel linked, will sate itselfin a celestial bed... and prey on garbage.
but soft! methinksi scent the morning's air.brief let me be. sleeping within mine orchard, my custom alwaysin the afternoon, upon my secure hourthy uncle stole with juice... of cursed hebenon in a vial, and in the porchesof mine ears did pourthe leperous distillment, whose effect holds suchan enmity with blood of man... that swift as quicksilverit courses through... the natural gatesand alleys of the body,
and with a sudden vigorit doth posset and curd, like eager droppings into milk, the thin andwholesome blood. so did it mine, and a mostinstant tetter barked about, most lazarlike,with vile and loathsome crust, all my smooth body. thus was i, sleeping, by a brother's hand... of life, of crown,of queen,
at once dispatched-- cut off even inthe blossoms of my sin, unhouseled, disappointed, unaneled, no reckoning made,but sent to my account... with all my imperfectionson my head. oh, horrible. oh, horrible, most horrible.
if thou hast nature in thee,bear it not. let not the royal bed of denmarkbe a couch for luxuryand damned incest. but, howsoeverthou pursuest this act, taint not thy mind,nor let thy soul... contrive againstthy mother aught. leave her to heavenand to those thorns... that in her bosom lodge... to prick and sting her. fare thee well at once.the glowworm showsthe matin to be near...
and 'gins to palehis ineffectual fire. [ cock crows ] adieu. adieu, hamlet. remember me. o all you... host of heaven. [ sobbing ] o earth. what else?
and shall i couple hell? oh, fie. hold, hold my heart. and you, my sinews,grow not instant old... but bear me stiffly up. remember thee. aye, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seatin this distracted globe. remember thee!yea, from the tableof my memory...
i'll wipe awayall trivial fond records, all saws of books, all forms,all pressures past, that youth and observationcopied there, and thy commandmentall alone shall live... within the book and volumeof my brain, unmixed with baser matter. yes, by heaven! o most pernicious woman! o villain, villain,smiling, damned villain!
my tables--meet it is i set it downthat one may smile, and smile, and be a villain. at least i am sureit may be so in denmark. so, uncle, there you are. now to my word. [ sword scraping ground ] it is "adieu. adieu. remember me." [ whispering ]i have sworn it.
[ footfalls approaching ] [ together ]my lord! my lord! lord hamlet! heaven secure him.so be it. illo, ho, ho, my lord! hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come! [ marcellus ] how is 't? what news, my lord? oh, wonderful!
- good, my lord. tell it.- no, you will reveal it. not i, my lord, by heaven. nor i, my lord. how say you, then, wouldheart of man once think it? but you'll be secret? [ horatio ] aye, by heaven, my lord. there's ne'er a villaindwelling in all denmarkbut he's an arrant knave. there needs no ghostcome from the graveto tell us this. why, right, you arein the right. and so, withoutmore circumstance at all,
i hold it fit thatwe shake hands and part-- you as your businessand desire shall point you, for every many hathbusiness and desire,such as it is. and for my own poor part,look you, i'll go pray. these are but wildand whirling words, my lord. i'm sorry theyoffend you, heartily,yes, faith, heartily. there's no offense, my lord. yes, by saint patrick,but there is, horatio! and much offense too.
touching this vision here,it is an honest ghost,that let me tell you. for your desireto know what is between us,o'ermaster 't as you may. and now, good friends,as you are friends,scholars and soldiers, give me one poor request. what is 't, my lord?we will. never make knownwhat you have seen tonight. my lord, we will not! nay, but swear it. in faith, my lord, not i.
nor i, my lord,not i. upon my sword. but we have sworn,my lord, already. indeed, upon my sword,indeed! - [ ghost ] swear!- aha, boy! say'st thou so? art thou there, truepenny?come on. you hear this fellowin the cellarage. consent to swear! propose the oath, my lord! never to speak of thisthat you have seen!swear by my sword!
[ ghost ]swear! hic et ubique?then we'll shift our ground! come hither, gentlemen!and lay your hands againupon my sword! never to speak of thisthat you have heard!swear by my sword! well said, old mole!canst work i' the earthso fast? a worthy pioneer!once more remove,good friends! oh, day and night, but this is wondrous strange! and therefore as a strangergive it welcome! there are more things inheaven and earth, horatio, thanare dreamt of in our philosophy.
but come, here, as before, never, so help you mercy,how strange or oddsoe'er i bear myself, as i perchance hereaftershall think meet to putan antic disposition on... that you, at such timesseeing me, never shallwith arms encumbered thus, or with this headshake,or by pronouncingof some doubtful phrase, as "well, we know,"or "we could an if we would," or "if we list to speak,"or "there be,an if they might," or such ambiguousgiving out, to notethat you know aught of me. this not to do,so grace and mercy...
at your most need help you! swear! rest. rest, perturbed spirit. so, gentlemen, with all my lovei do commend me to you. and what so poora man as hamlet is may... do to express his loveand friending to you,
god willing, shall not lack. let us go in together. and still your fingerson your lips, i pray. the time is out of joint. oh, cursed spite... that ever i was bornto set it right. nay, come, let's go together. give him this moneyand these notes, reynaldo.
i will, my lord. you shall do marvelous wisely,good reynaldo, before you visit him,to make inquire of his behavior. my lord, i did intend it. marry, well said,very well said. look you, sir, inquire me firstwhat danskers are in paris, and how, and who, what means,and where they keep, what company,at what expense, and findingby this encompassmentand drift of question...
that they do know my son, come you more nearerthan your particulardemands will touch it. take you, as 'twere,some distant knowledge of him, as thus, "i know his fatherand his friends,and in part him." do you mark this, reynaldo? aye, very well, my lord. "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 dishonor him,take heed of that, but, sir, such wanton,wild and usual slips... as are companions noted andmost known to youth and liberty. - as gaming, my lord?- aye, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarreling,drabbing. you may go so far. [ gasps ] my lord, thatwould dishonor him. faith, no, as you mayseason it in the charge.
you must not putanother scandal on himthat he is open to incontinency. that's not my meaning.but breathe his faultsso quaintly... that they may seemthe taints of liberty, the flash and outbreakof a fiery mind, the savagenessin unreclaimed blood,of general assault. - but, my good lord--- wherefore should you do this? aye, my lord,i would know that. marry, sir, here's my drift,and i believe it isa fetch of warrant. you laying theseslight sullies on my son,
as 'twere a thinga little soiled in the working, mark you,your party in converse,him you would sound, having ever seenin the prenominate crimesthe youth you breathe of guilty, be assured he closes with youin this consequence-- "good sir," or so,or "friend," or "gentleman," according to the phrase andthe addition of man and country. very good, my lord. and then, sir,does he this-- he does--what was i about to say? by the mass, i was about to saysomething. where did i leave?
at "closes in the consequence,"at "friend or so,"and at "gentleman." at "closes in the consequence,"aye, marry. he closes with you thus:"i know the gentleman.i saw him yesterday, "or t'other day, or then,or then, with such and such,and, as you say, "there was a' gaming,there o'ertook in 's rouse, there falling out at tennis." or perchance, "i saw himenter such a house of sale," videlicet, a brothel,or so forth. see you now, your baitof falsehood takesthis carp of truth.
and thus do weof wisdom and of reach, with windlassesand with assays of bias, by indirectionsfind directions out. so, by my former lectureand advice, shall you my son. - you have me, have you not?- my lord, i have. god be wi' you.fare you well. good, my lord. observe his inclinationin yourself. i shall, my lord.
and let him ply his music. well, my lord. my lord! how now, ophelia!what's the matter? alas, my lord,i have been so affrighted. with what,i' the name of god? my lord, as i was sewingin my chamber, lord hamlet,with his doublet all unbraced, no hat upon his head,his stockings fouled,
ungartered anddown-gyved to his ankle, pale as his shirt,his knees knocking each other, and with a lookso piteous in purport, as if he had been loosedout of hell to speak of horrors,he comes before me. - mad for thy love?- my lord, i do not know, but truly i do fear it. - what said he?- he took me by the wrist... and held me hard. then goes he tothe length of all his arm,
and with his other handthus o'er his brow. he falls to such perusalof my face... as he would draw it. long stayed he so. at last, a little shakingof mine arm, and thrice his headthus waving up and down, he raised a sighso piteous and profound... that it did seemto shatter all his bulk, and end his being.
that done, he lets me go. and with his headover his shoulder turned, he seemed to find his waywithout his eyes; for out of doors he wentwithout their help, and to the lastbended their light on me. [ sobs ] come. go with me.i will go seek the king. this is the veryecstasy of love,
whose violent propertyfordoes itself... and leads the willto desperate undertakings... as oft as any passionunder heaven that doesafflict our natures. i am sorry. why, have you given himany hard words of late? no, my good lord!but, as you did command, i did repel his lettersand denied his access to me! that hath made him mad. i am sorry that withbetter heed and judgmenti had not quoted him.
i feared he did but trifleand meant to wreck thee, but beshrew my jealousy. by heaven, it is as proper toour age to cast beyond ourselvesin our opinions... as it is commonfor the younger sortto lack discretion. [ sobbing continues ] come, go we to the king. this must be known,which, being kept close, might move more griefto hide than hateto utter love. welcome, dear rosencrantz...
a-and, uh,guildenstern. [ laughing ] [ both chuckling ] moreover that we muchdid long to see you, the need we haveto use you did provokeour hasty sending. something have you heardof hamlet's transformation. so i call it,since not the exteriornor the inward man... resemblesthat it was. what it should be,more than hisfather's death,
that thus hath put him somuch from the understandingof himself... i cannot dream of. i entreat you both that,being of so young daysbrought up with him... and sith so neighboredto his youth and humor... that you vouchsafeyour rest here in our courtsome little time, so by your companies todraw him into pleasures, and to gather so muchas from occasionyou may glean, whether aught to usunknown afflicts him thus... that openedlies within our remedy.
good gentlemen,he hath much talked of you, and sure i am two menthere is not livingto whom he more adheres. if it will please youto show us so muchgentry and goodwill... as to expend your time withus a while for the supplyand profit of our hope, your visitation shallreceive such thanks... as fitsa king's remembrance. both your majesties might,by the sovereign poweryou have of us, put your dread pleasuresmore into commandthan to entreaty. but we both obeyand here give up ourselvesin the full bent...
to lay our servicefreely at your feet,to be commanded. uh, thanks, uh,rosencrantz... and gentleguildenstern. thanks, guildensternand gentle rosencrantz. and i beseech youinstantly to visitmy too-much-changed son. go, some of you,and bring these gentlemenwhere hamlet is. heavens make our presenceand our practices pleasantand helpful to him. [ queen ]aye. amen. the ambassadors from norway,my good lord,are joyfully returned.
thou still has beenthe father of good news. have i, my lord? i assure you, my good liege,i hold my dutyas i hold my soul, both to my godand to my gracious king. and i do think, or else this brain of minehunts not the trailof policy so sure... as it had used to do, that i havefound the very causeof hamlet's lunacy. oh, speak of that.
that do i long to hear. give first admittanceto the ambassadors. my news shall be the fruitto that great feast. well, thyself do graceto them and bring them in. he tells me,my dear gertrude, that he hathfound the head and sourceof all your son's distemper. i doubt it is no otherbut the main. his father's deathand our o'erhasty marriage. well, we shall sift him.
ah. welcome,my good friends. say, voltemand, what from our brother norway? most fair returnof greetings and desires. [ voltemand continues ]upon our first, he sent out to suppresshis nephew's levies, which to him appearedto be a preparation'gainst the polack, but better looked into,he truly found it wasagainst your highness, whereat, grievedthat so his sickness,age and impotence...
was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrestson fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys,receives rebuke from norway... and in fine makes vowbefore his uncle... never more to givethe assay of armsagainst your majesty. whereon old norway,overcome with joy, gives himthree thousand crownsin annual fee... and his commission... to employ those soldiers,so levied as before,'gainst the polack.
with an entreaty,herein further shown, that it might please youto give quiet passthrough your dominions... for his enterprise, on such regardsof safety and allowanceas therein are set down. it likes us well, and at our more consideredtime we'll read, answer andthink upon this business. meantime we thank youfor your well-took labor. go to your rest. at night we'll feast together. - [ king ]most welcome home.- this business is well-ended.
[ polonius ]my liege and madam, to expostulatewhat majesty should be, what duty is, why day is day,night nightand time is time, were nothing but to wastenight, day and time. therefore, since brevityis the soul of wit... and tediousness the limbsand 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 benothing else but mad? - but let that go.- more matter with less art. madam, i sweari use no art at all. that he is mad, 'tis true. 'tis true 'tis pity,and pity 'tis 'tis true-- a foolish figure,but farewell it,for i will use no art. mad, let us grant him,then. and now remains thatwe find out the causeof this effect,
or rather say the causeof this defect, for this effect defectivecomes by cause. thus it remains,and the remainder thus. perpend. ophelia! i have a daughter--have while she is mine-- who, in her duty and obedience, mark, hath given me this. now gather and surmise. "t-to...
"the... "celestial... and... "my soul's idol, "the most... beautified ophelia--" that's an ill phrase, a vile phrase. "beautified"is a vile phrase.but you shall hear. "these... "in... her...
"excellent... w-white bosom, these--" came thisfrom hamlet to her? good madam, stay awhile.i will be faithful. [ polonius continues ]"doubt thou the starsare fire, "doubt that the sundoth move, doubt truth to be a liar,but never doubt i love." dear ophelia,i am ill at these numbers. i have not artto reckon my groans,but that i love thee best.
oh, most best. believe it. adieu! adieu. thine evermore-- "most dear lady, whilstthis machine is to him, hamlet." this, in obedience,hath my daughter showed me, and more above,hath his solicitings, as they fell out by time,by means and place,all given to mine ear.
- but how hath shereceived his love?- what do you think of me? - as of a man faithfuland honorable.- i would fain prove so. but what might you think,when i had seenthis hot love on the wing-- as i perceived it,i must tell you that,before my daughter told me-- what might youor my dear majestyyour queen here think... if i had playedthe desk or table book, or given my heart awinking,mute and dumb, or looked uponthis love with idle sight? no, i went round to work,and my young mistressthus i did bespeak: "lord hamlet is a prince,out of thy star.this must not be."
and then i precepts gave herthat she should lock herselffrom his resort, admit no messengers,receive no tokens. which done, she tookthe 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 declensioninto the madness wherein nowhe raves and all we wail for. do you think 'tis this? it may be, very like.
hath there been such a time,i'd fain know that, that i havepositively said "'tis so"when it proved otherwise? - not that i know.- take this from this,if this be otherwise. if circumstances lead me,i will find where truth is hid, though it were hid indeedwithin the center. how may we try it further? sometimes he walksfour hours togetherhere in the lobby. so he does indeed. at such a time i'llloose my daughter to him.
be you and ibehind an arras then.mark the encounter. if he love her notand be not from his reasonfallen thereon, let me be noassistant for a state,but keep a farm and carters. we will try it. but look... where sadly the poor wretch comes reading. away, i do beseech you,both away. i'll board himpresently. oh, give me leave.
how doesmy good lord hamlet? well, god have mercy. do you know me,my lord? excellent well.you are a fishmonger. not i, my lord. then i would you wereso honest a man! honest, my lord? aye, sir, to be honestas this world goes... is to be one man pickedout of ten thousand.
that's very true, my lord. for if the sun breed maggotsin a dead dog, being a godkissing carrion-- have you a daughter? i have, my lord. let her not walkin the sun. conception is a blessing,but as your daughtermay conceive-- friend, look to it. how say you by that?
still harpingon my daughter. yet he knew me not at first.he said i was a fishmonger. he's far gone.far gone. and truly in my youthi suffered much extremityfor love, very near this. i'll speak to him again. what do you read,my lord? words. words. words! what is the matter, my lord?
between who? i mean the matter you read. slanders, sir. for the satirical roguesays here that"old men have gray beards, "that their faces are wrinkled,their eyes purging thick amberand plum-tree gum... and that they havea plentiful lack of wit,together with most weak hams." all which,though i most powerfullyand potently believe, yet i hold it not honestyto have it thus set down, for you yourself, sir,shalt grow old as i am...
if, like a crab,you could go backward. [ to himself ]though this be madness,yet there is method in 't. will you walk outof the air, my lord? into my grave? indeed,that is out of the air. how pregnant sometimeshis replies are. a happiness thatoften madness hits on, which reason and sanitycould not so prosperouslybe delivered of. i will leave himand suddenly contrivethe means of meeting...
between him and my daughter. my lord. my lord,i will take my leaveof you. you cannot, sir, takefrom me anything i wouldmore willingly part withal. except my life. fare you well, my lord. these tedious old fools. [ whistle blowing ] my honored lord! you go to seekthe lord hamlet?there he is.
ohhh! whoo! my most dear lord! my excellent good friends!how dost thou? guildenstern!ah, rosencrantz!good lads, how do you both? as the indifferentchildren of the earth. happy in thatwe are not overhappy. on fortune's capwe are not the very button. nor the soles of her shoes. -neither, my lord.-then you live about her waist,or in the middle of her favors.
faith, her privates we. in the secret parts of fortune!most true, she is a strumpet.what news? none, my lord, but thatthe world's grown honest. then is doomsday near.but your news is not true.let me question in particular. what have you deservedat the hands of fortune thatshe sends you to prison hither? - prison, my lord?- denmark's a prison.- then is the world one. a goodly one, in whichthere are many confines,wards and dungeons, denmark beingone of the worst. we think not so,my lord.
why, then'tis none to you, for there isnothing either good or badbut thinking makes it so. to me it is a prison. why, then,your ambitionmakes it one. 'tis too narrowfor your mind. oh, god, i could be boundedin a nutshell and count myselfa king of infinite space... were it not that i havebad dreams. which dreams indeedare ambition, for the very substanceof the ambitious is merelythe shadow of a dream.
a dream itselfis but a shadow. truly, and i holdambition of so airyand light a quality... that it is buta shadow's shadow. then are our beggars bodies,our monarchs and outstretchedheroes the beggars' shadows? shall we to the court?for, by my fay,i cannot reason. we will waitupon you. no such matter. i will not sort youwith the rest of my servants, for to speak to youlike an honest man,i am most dreadfully attended.
but in the beaten wayof friendship, what make you at elsinore? to visit you, my lord.no other occasion. beggar that i am,i am even poor in thanks,but i thank you. and sure, dear friends,my thanks are too deara ha'penny. [ bell continues tolling ] were you not sent for? is it your own inclining?is it a free visitation? come, deal justly with me.hmm?
come. come.nay, speak. - what should we say, my lord?- why, anything,but to the purpose! you were sent for, and there is a confession inyour looks which your modestieshave not craft enough to color. - i know the good king and queenhave sent for you.- to what end, my lord? that you must teach me. but let me conjure you,by the rights of our fellowship,by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligationof our ever-preserved love... and by what more deara better proposercould charge you withal,
be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for,or no. - what say you? - [ hamlet ] nay, then, i have an eye of you. if you love me, hold not off. my lord,we were sent for. i will tell you why. so shall my anticipationprevent your discovery, and your secrecyto the king and queenmolt no feather. i have, of late--
but whereforei know not-- lost all my mirth, forgone all customof exercise, and indeedit goes so heavilywith my disposition... that this goodly framethe earth... seems to mea sterile promontory. this most excellent canopy,the air, look you, this braveo'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof...
fretted with golden fire-- why, it appearethno other thing to me... but a foul and pestilentcongregation of vapors. what a piece of workis a man. how noble in reason.how infinite in faculties. in form and movinghow express and admirable. in actionhow like an angel. in apprehensionhow like a god. the beauty of the world.the paragon of animals.
and yet, to me, what is this... quintessence of dust? man delights not me. [ chuckles ] no, nor woman neither,though by your smilingyou seem to say so. my lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts. why did you laugh, then,when i said"man delights not me"? to think, my lord,if you delight notin man,
what lenten entertainmentthe players shall receivefrom you. we coted them on the way,and hither they are comingto offer you service. he that plays the kingshall be welcome. his majestyshall have tribute of me. the adventurous knightshall use his foil and target; the lover shall notsigh gratis; the humorous manshall end his part in peace; the clown shallmake those laugh whose lungsare tickle o' the sere; and the lady shallspeak her mind freely or theblank verse shall halt for it.
what players are they? even those you arewont to take delight in. the tragediansof the city. how chances it they travel? their residence, bothin reputation and profit,was better both ways. i think their inhibitioncomes by the means ofthe late innovation. do they holdthe same estimation they didwhen i was in the city? are they so followed? no, indeed,they are not.
well, how comes it?do they grow rusty? nay, their endeavor keepsin the wonted pace. but there isan eyrie of children. little eyases that cry outon top of question and mosttyrannically clapped for it. these are now the fashionand so berattle the commonstages-- so they call them-- that many wearing rapiersare afraid ofgoose quills... and dare scarcecome thither. are they children?who maintains 'em?how are they escoted? will they pursuethe quality no longerthan they can sing?
will they not say afterwards,if they should grow themselvesto common players-- as it is most like iftheir means are no better-- their writers do them wrongto make them exclaim againsttheir own succession? faith, there hasbeen much to-doon both sides, and the nation holds itno sin to tarre themto controversy. there was for a while no moneybid for argument unless the poetand the player went to cuffs! is 't possible? oh, there has been muchthrowing-about of brains. and do the boyscarry it away?
aye, that they do, my lord. herculesand his load too. well, it is not very strange,for my uncle is king of denmark,[ chuckles ] and those thatwould make mouths at himwhile my father lived... give twenty, forty, fifty,a hundred ducats apiecefor his picture in little. [ laughs ] 'sblood, there's somethingin this more than natural,if philosophy could find it out. [ people murmuring, laughing ] there arethe players.
gentlemen, you arewelcome to elsinore.your hands. come then. the appurtenance of welcomeis fashion and ceremony. let me comply with youin the garb, lest my extentto the players-- which must showfairly outwards-- should more appearlike entertainmentthan yours. but my, uh, uncle-fatherand aunt-motherare deceived. in what, my dear lord? i am but madnorth-northwest. when the wind is southerly,i know a hawk from a handsaw.
well be with you, gentlemen. hark you, guildenstern, and youtoo-- at each ear a hearer. that great babyyou see there is not yetout of his swaddling clouts. happily he isthe second timecome to them, for they say an old manis twice a child. i will prophesy he comesto tell me of the players. you say right, sir!a' monday morning!'twas then indeed! my lord, i have newsto tell you. my lord, i have newsto tell you.
when roscius wasan actor in rome-- the actorsare come hither-- buzz, buzz! on my honor-- "then came each actoron his ass." the best actorsin the world, either for tragedy, comedy,history, pastoral, pastoral-comical,historical-pastoral, tragical-historical,tragical-comical-historical-pastoral,
scene individableor poem unlimited. seneca cannot be too heavy,nor plautus too light. for the law of writand the liberty,these are the only men. o jephthah, judge of israel,what a treasure hadst thou! what treasure had he, my lord? why, "one fair daughter,and no more, the whichhe loved passing well." still on my daughter. am i not in the right,old jephthah? if you call me jephthah,my lord, i have a daughterthat i love passing well.
nay, that follows not! what follows then,my lord? why, "as by lot, god wot,"and then-- y-you know,"it came to pass,as most like it was." the first row of the piouschanson will show you more, for look where myabridgement comes! you are welcome, masters,welcome all! i am glad to see thee well.welcome, good friends! oh, my old friend.
sir. why, thy face has valancedsince i saw thee last. comest thou to beard mein denmark? yeah? what, my young ladyand mistress! by our lady, your ladyshipis nearer to heaventhan when i saw you last, by the altitudeof a chopine. pray god your voice, likea piece of uncurrent gold, be not crackedwithin the ring. masters,you are all welcome.
we'll e'en to itlike french falconers--fly at anything we see. we'll havea speech straight. come, give us a tasteof your quality. come!a passionate speech! what speech, my good lord? oh, i heard theespeak me a speech once,but it was never acted. or if it was,not above once, for the play, i remember,pleased not the million. 'twas caviar to the general,but it was-- as i received it,and others,
whose judgments in such matterscried in the top of mine--an excellent play, well-digested in the scenes,set down with as much modestyas cunning. i remember one said therewere no sallets in the linesto make the matter savory, nor no matter in the phrasewhich might indict the authorof affectation, but called itan honest method,as wholesome as sweet, and by very muchmore handsome than fine. [ players laughing ] one speech in iti chiefly loved, 'twas aeneas' tale to dido,
and thereabout of itespecially where he speaksof priam's slaughter. if it live in your memory,uh, begin at this line-- let me see.let me see. ahh--[ groans ] "the rugged pyrrhus,like the hyrcanian beast--"it is not so. it beginswith pyrrhus. it begins with pyrrhus. "the rugged pyrrhus,he whose sable arms,black as his purpose, "did the night resemblewhen he lay couchedin the ominous horse,
"hath now this dread andblack complexion smeared... "with heraldry more dismal. "head to footnow is he total gules, gules! "horridly tricked with bloodof fathers, mothers,daughters, sons, "baked and impastedwith the parching streets... "that lend a tyrannousand a damned lightto their lord's murder. "roasted in wrath and fire,and thus o'ersizedwith coagulate gore, "with eyes like carbuncles,the hellish pyrrhus...
old grandsire priamseeks." wh-- uh-- so proceed you, please. [ applause,actors laughing ] 'fore god, my lord,well spoken, with good accentand good discretion. anon he finds him... striking too shortat greeks. his antique sword,rebellious to his arm,
lies where it falls,repugnant to command. unequal matched,pyrrhus at priam drives,in rage strikes wide, but with the whiffed windof his fell swordthe unnerved father falls. then senseless ilium,seeming to feel his blow, with flaming topstoops to his base, and with a hideous crashtakes prisoner pyrrhus' ear. for lo, his sword, which wasdeclining on the milky headof reverend priam, seemed in the airto stick. so as a painted tyrantpyrrhus stood,
and like a neutralto 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 belowas hush as death, anon the dreadful thunderdoth rend the region. so after pyrrhus' pausearoused vengeancesets him new awork. and never did the cyclops'hammers fall on mars, his armor forgedfor proof eterne, with less remorsethan pyrrhus' bleeding swordnow falls on priam.
out, out,thou strumpet, fortune! all you gods,in general synodtake away her power, break all the spokesand fellies from her wheel, and bowl the round navedown the hill of heaven... as low as to the fiends! this is too long. it shall to the barber's,with your beard. prithee, say on. he's for a jigor a tale of bawdry,or he sleeps.
say on. come to hecuba. but who, oh, who had seenthe mobled queen-- [ hamlet whispers ]"mobled queen." that's good."mobled queen" is good. run barefoot up and down, threatening the flameswith bisson rheum, a clout upon that headwhere late the diadem stood, and for a robe,
about her lankand all o'erteemed loinsa blanket, in the alarmof fear caught up. [ shouting ] [ player continues ]who this had seen, with tonguein venom steeped... 'gainst fortune's statewould treason have pronounced. but if the gods themselvesdid see her then, when she saw pyrrhusmake malicious sport... in mincing with his swordher husband's limbs,
the instant burst of clamorthat she made, unless things mortalmove them not at all, would have made milchthe burning eyes of heaven... and passion in the gods. look whether he has notturned his colorand has tears in his eyes. prithee, no more. 'tis well.i'll have thee speak outthe rest of this soon. good my lord,will you see the playerswell bestowed? let them be well used,
for they are the abstractand brief chroniclesof the time. after your death you'd betterhave a bad epitaph than theirill report while you live. i will use themaccording to their desert. god's bodkin, man,much better! use every man after his desertand who shall 'scape whipping? use them after your ownhonor and dignity. the less they deserve,the more meritis in your bounty. - take them in.- come, sirs. follow him, friends.we'll hear a play tomorrow.
[ chuckling ] dost thou hear me,old friend? can you play the murder of gonzago? aye, my lord. we'll ha 'ttomorrow night. you could, for a need,study a speech of somedozen or sixteen lines... which i would set downand insert in 't,could you not? very well. follow that lord,and look you,mock him not.
my good friends,i'll leave you 'til night.you are welcome to elsinore. good my lord. aye, so,god bye ye. now i am alone. oh, 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 soulso to his own conceit... that from her workingall his visage wanned, tears in his eyes,distraction in his aspect,a broken voice, and his whole functionsuiting with formsto his conceit? and all for nothing! for hecuba! what's hecuba to himor he to hecuba, that heshould weep for her? what would he do had hethe motive and the cuefor passion that i have? he would drown the stagewith tears...
and cleave the general earwith horrid speech, make mad the guiltyand appall the free, confound the ignorantand amaze indeed the veryfaculty of eyes and ears. yet i, a dulland muddy-mettled rascal, peak, like john-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,and can say nothing-- no, not for a king... upon whose propertyand most dear lifea damned defeat was made. am i a coward? huh?who calls me villain? hmm?
breaks my pate across?plucks off my beardand 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? hah?'swounds, i should take it! [ dishes clattering ] for it cannot bebut i am pigeon-livered... and lack gallto make oppression bitter, or ere this i should havefatted all the region kiteswith this slave's offal. bloody, bawdy villain! remorseless, treacherous,lecherous, kindless villain!
ohh, vengeance! what an ass am i. this is most brave,that i, the son ofa dear father murdered, prompted to my revengeby heaven and hell, must, like a whore,unpack my heart with words... and fall a-cursing likea very drab, a scullion. fie upon 't, foh!about, my brain! [ groans ] i have heardthat guilty creaturessitting at a play...
have, by the very cunningof the scene, been struckso to the soul... that presently they haveproclaimed their malefactions. for murder, though ithave no tongue, will speakwith most miraculous organ. i'll have these playersplay... something likethe 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 of the devil, and the devil hath powerto assume a pleasing shape.
yea, and perhaps,out of my weaknessand my melancholy, as he is very potentwith such spirits, abuses me... to damn me. i'll have grounds... more relative than this. the play's the thing... wherein i'll catchthe conscience of the king. and can you,by no drift of conference,get from him...
why he puts onthis confusion, grating so harshlyall his days of quiet withturbulent and dangerous lunacy? he does confess he feels himself distracted, but from what causehe will, by no means,speak. nor do we find himforward to be sounded, but, with a crafty madness,keeps aloof when we would bringhim on to some confession... of his true state. did hereceive you well? [ rosencrantz ] most like a gentleman.
but with much forcing of his disposition. niggard of question,but of our demandsmost free in his reply. [ queen ]did you say himto any pastime? madam, it so fell outthat certain playerswe o'erraught on the way. of these we told him,and there did seem in hima kind of joy to hear of it. they are about the court,and they have already orderthis night to play before him. 'tis most true,and he beseeched meto entreat your majesties... to hearand see the matter. with all my heart!
it doth much content meto hear him so inclined. give him a further edge,and drive his purposeinto these delights. we shall, my lord. sweet gertrude, leave us too, for we have closely sentfor hamlet hither, that he,as 'twere by accident,may here affront ophelia. her father and myself,lawful espials, will so bestow ourselvesthat, seeing unseen,
we may of their encounterfrankly judge... and gather by him,as he is behaved, if 't be the afflictionof his love or nothat thus he suffers for. i shall obey you. and for your part,ophelia, i do wish that your goodbeauties be the happy causeof hamlet's wildness. so shall i hopeyour virtues... will bring himto his wonted way again,to both your honors. madam,i wish it may.
ophelia, walk you here. gracious, so please you,we will bestow ourselves. read on this book.that show of such an exercisemay color your loneliness. we are oft to blame in this--'tis too much proved-- that with devotion's visageand pious action we dosugar o'er the devil himself. oh, 'tis too true. how smart a lash that speechdoth give my conscience. the harlot's cheek,beautied withplastering art, is not more ugly tothe thing that helps it...
than is my deed... to my most painted word. oh, heavy burden. i hear him coming.let's withdraw, my lord. to be... or not to be-- that is the question. whether 'tis noblerin the mind... to sufferthe slings and arrowsof outrageous fortune,
or to take arms againsta sea of troubles... and by opposingend them. to die, to sleep-- no more,and by a sleep... to say we endthe heartache... and the thousandnatural shocksthat flesh is heir to. 'tis a consummationdevoutly to be wished. to die, to sleep, to sleep--perchance to dream.
aye, there's the rub, for in that sleepof death... what dreams may come... when we have shuffled offthis mortal coilmust give us pause. there's the respectthat makes calamityof so long life. for who would bearthe whips and scornsof time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man'scontumely, the pangsof despised love,
the law's delay,the insolence of office... and the spurnsthat patient meritof the unworthy takes, when he himselfmight his quietus makewith a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear... to grunt and sweatunder a weary life, but that the dread... of something after death, the undiscovered country... from whose bournno traveler returns,
puzzles the will, and makes us ratherbear those ills we have... than fly to othersthat we know not of? thus conscience... doth make cowardsof us all, and thus the native hueof resolution... is sicklied o'er withthe pale cast of thought, and enterprisesof great pith and moment... with this regard...
their currents turn awry... and lose the name... of action. - [ footfalls ]- but soft you now. the fair ophelia. nymph, in thy orisons... be all my sinsremembered. good my lord, how does your honor for this many a day?
i-i humbly thank you. uh, well--[ chuckles ] [ chuckles ] well-- my lord, i have remembrancesof yours... that i have longed longto redeliver. i pray you nowreceive them. no.
not i.i never gave you aught. my honored lord, you know right wellyou did, and with them words ofso sweet breath composed asmade the things more rich. their perfume lost, take these again, for to the noble mindrich gifts wax poorwhen givers prove unkind. there, my lord-- huh? are you honest?
my lord? are you fair? what meansyour lordship? that if you be honest and fair,your honesty should admitno discourse to your beauty. could beauty have bettercommerce than with honesty? truly, for the power of beautywill sooner transform honestyfrom what it is to a bawd... than the force of honestycan translate beautyinto his likeness. this was sometime a paradox,but now the time gives it proof. i did love you once.
indeed, my lord,you made me believe so. well, you should nothave believed me, for virtue cannotso inoculate our old stockbut we shall relish of it. - i loved you not.- [ whimpers ] - i was the more deceived.- get thee to a nunnery. hmm? why wouldst thou bea breeder of sinners? i am myselfindifferent honest, but yet i could accuse me ofsuch things that it were bettermy mother had not borne me. i am very proud, revengeful,ambitious, with moreoffenses at my beck...
than thoughts to put them in,imagination to give them shapeor time to act them in. what should such fellows as ido crawling between earthand heaven? we are arrant knaves all.believe none of us. go thy waysto a nunnery. [ thump ] [ whispers ]where's your father? at home, my lord. let the doors... be shut upon him...
that he may play the fool... nowhere but in his own house. [ weeping ]farewell. oh, help him,you sweet heavens. if thou dost marry, i'll give thee this plaguefor thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice,as pure as snow--thou shalt not 'scape calumny! get thee to a nunnery.go. farewell. or if thou wilt need marry,marry a fool,
for wise men know well enoughwhat monsters you make of them! to a nunnery! go!and quickly too!farewell! heavenly powers,restore him. [ screams ] i have heard of yourpaintings too, well enough. god hath given you one faceand you make yourselvesanother! you jig, you amble,you lisp, and you nicknamegod's creatures, and you make your wantonnessyour ignorance. go to.
i'll no more on 't. it hath made me mad. i say... we will have... no more marriages. those that are marriedalready, all but one, shall live. the rest... shall keep as they are.
to a nunnery. go. oh, what a noble mindis here o'erthrown. the courtier's,soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword-- the expectancy and roseof the fair state, the glass of fashionand the mold of form, the observedof all observers-- quite, quite down.
and i, of ladiesmost deject and wretched, that sucked the honeyof his music vows, now see that nobleand most sovereign reason, like sweet bells jangled,out of tune and harsh, that unmatchedform and featureof blown youth... blasted with ecstasy. oh, woe is me to have seenwhat i have seen, see what i see. love! his affectionsdo not that way tend.
nor what he spake, thoughit lacked form a little,was not like madness. there's something in his soulo'er which his melancholysits on brood, and i do doubtthe hatch and the disclosewill be some danger. which to prevent, i havein quick determinationthus set it down: he shall with speed to england,for the demand of ourneglected tribute. haply the seasand countries differentwith variable objects... shall expel thissomething-settled matterin his heart... whereon his brainsstill beating puts him thusfrom fashion of himself. it shall do well.
but yet do i believethe origin and commencementof his grief... sprung fromneglected love. [ king slams table ] how now, ophelia? you need not tell uswhat lord hamlet said.we heard it all. my lord,do as you please, but, if you hold it fit, after the playlet his queen mother all aloneentreat him to show his grief. let her be roundwith him,
and i'll be placed,so please you, in the earof all their conference. if she find him not,to england send him, or confine himwhere your wisdom bestshall think. it shall be so. madness in great onesmust not unwatched go. [ explosions ] speak the speech,i pray you, as ipronounced it to you, trippinglyon the tongue. but if you mouth it,as many of your players do,
i had as liefthe town crierspoke my lines. nor do not saw the airtoo much with your hand,thus, but use all gently. for in the very torrent,tempest and, as i may say,whirlwind of your passion, you must acquireand beget a temperance... that may give itsmoothness. oh, it offends meto the soul to hear... a robustious,periwig-pated fellowtear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the earsof the groundlings,
who for the most partare capable of nothing... but inexplicable dumb showsand noise. i would havesuch a fellow whippedfor o'erdoing termagent. it out-herods herod.pray you, avoid it. i warrant your honor. be not too tame neither,but let your own discretionbe your tutor. suit the action to the word,the word to the action, with this specialobservance, that you o'erstep notthe modesty of nature.
for anything so o'erdone isfrom the purpose of playing, whose end, bothat the first and now, was and is to hold as 'twerethe mirror up to nature-- to show virtueher own feature,scorn her own image, and the very ageand body of the timehis form and pressure. now this overdoneor come tardy off, though it makesthe unskillful laugh, cannot but makethe judicious grieve, the censure of the which onemust in your allowance o'erweigha whole theater of others.
oh, there be playersthat i have seen play,and heard others praise-- and that highly,not to speak it profanely-- that neither havingthe accent of christians... nor the gait of christian,pagan, nor man, have so struttedand bellowed... that i have thought someof nature's journeymenhad made men, and had not made them well,they imitated humanityso abominably. i hope we've reformed thatindifferently with us. oh, reform it altogether.
and let thosethat play your clowns... speak no morethan is set down for them. for there be of themthat will themselves laugh, to set on some quantityof barren spectatorsto laugh too, though in the meantimesome necessary questionof the play... be then to be considered. that's villainous, and showsa most pitiful ambitionin the fool that uses it. eh? go. make you ready.
[ whispering ] how now, my lord?will the king hearthis piece of work? the queen too,and that presently. bid the players make haste. ah! will you twohelp to hasten them? [ together ]we will, my lord. what ho, horatio. here, sweet lord,at your service. horatio, thou arte'en as just a man as e'ermy conversation coped withal.
oh, my dear lord-- nay, do not thinki flatter. for what advancementmay i hope from thee... that no revenue hastbut thy good spiritsto feed and clothe thee? [ knock on door ] eh? why should the poorbe flattered? no, let the candied tonguelick absurd pomp... and crook the pregnanthinges of the knee wherethrift may follow fawning. dost thou hear?
since my dear soulwas mistress of her choiceand could of men distinguish, her electionshe hath sealed theefor herself. for thou hast beenas one in sufferingall that suffers nothing, a man that fortune'sbuffets and rewardshast ta'en with equal thanks. and blest are thosewhose blood and judgmentare so well commingled, that they are not a pipefor 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-- aye, in my heartof heart--
as i do thee. there's somethingtoo much of this. there is a play tonightbefore the king. one scene of it comes nearthe circumstance which i havetold thee of my father's death. i prithee when thou seestthat act afoot, even with the verycomment of thy soulobserve my uncle. if his occulted guiltdo not itself unkennelin one speech... it is a damned ghostthat we have seen... and my imaginations areas foul as vulcan's stithy.
give him heedful note,for i mine eyeswill rivet to his face, and after we willboth our judgments joinin censure of his seeming. if he steal aughtthe whilst this playis playing, and 'scape detecting, i will pay the theft. they are coming to the play.i must be idle.get you a place. [ cheering, applause ] [ audience murmuring ] how faresour cousin hamlet?
excellent, i' faith,of the chameleon's dish! i eat the air,promise-crammed. you cannot feed capons so. [ audience laughing ] i have nothingwith this answer, hamlet.these words are not mine. no, nor mine now! [ audience cheering ] you, uh, played oncei' the university, you say? that did i, my lord,and was accounteda good actor.
and, uh,what did you enact? i did enactjulius caesar. ohh! - [ murmuring, laughing ]- i was killed in the capitol. [ chuckling ]brutus killed me. it was a brute part of himto kill so capitala calf there. [ audience,hamlet laughing ] [ audience applauding ] be the players ready?
aye, my lord.they stay upon your patience. come hither, my good hamlet.sit by me. no, good mother,here's metal more attractive. oh, ho. do you mark that? lady, shall i liein your lap? no, my lord. i mean, my headupon your lap. do you think i meantcountry matters? i think nothing.
it's a fair thoughtto lie between maids' legs. what is, my lord? nothing! you are merry, my lord. i? youronly jig-maker. what should a man dobut be merry? look howcheerfully my mother looks, and my father diedwithin 's two hours! nay, 'tis twice two months,my lord. so long?
nay, then, let the devil wear black, for i'll have a suit of sables. heavens!died two months ago,and not forgotten yet? then there's hopea great man's memory mayoutlive his life half a year. but, by 'r lady, he must buildchurches then, or else shallhe suffer not thinking on, with the hobbyhorse, whose epitaph is "for, oh, for, oh, the hobbyhorseis forgot." [ ophelia ]what means this, my lord? this is miching mallecho. means mischief. belike this show importsthe argument of the play.
we shall know by this fellow.the players cannot keep counsel,they'll tell all. will he tell uswhat this show meant? aye, or any showyou'll show him.be not you ashamed to show, he'll not shame to tell youwhat it meant. you are naught.i'll mark the play. for us, and for our tragedy,here stooping to your clemency, we beg your hearing patiently. is this the prologue,or the posy of a ring? - 'tis brief, my lord.- as woman's love.
full thirty times hath phoebus' cart gone round. neptune's salt wash and tellus' orbed ground, and thirty dozen moonswith borrowed sheen... about the world havetimes twelve thirties been, since love our hearts and hymen did our hands... unite commutualin most sacred bands. so many journeys may the sunand moon make us again counto'er ere love be done! but, woe is me,you are so sick of late, so far from cheerand from your former state,that i distrust you.
yet, though i distrust,discomfort you, my lord,it nothing must. for women's fear and lovehold quantity... in either aughtor in extremity. now what my love is,proof hath made you know, and as my love is sized,my fear is so. where love is great,the littlest doubts are fear, where little fears grow great,great love grows there. faith, i must leave thee, love, and shortly too. my operant powerstheir functions leave to do.
and thou shalt livein this fair world behind, honored, beloved,and haply one as kindfor husband shalt thou-- oh, confound the rest!such love must needsbe treason in my breast. in second husband let me beaccurst! none wed the secondbut who killed the first. that's wormwood.wormwood. the instances that secondmarriage move are base respectsof thrift, but none of love. a second time i kill my husbanddead when second husbandkisses me in bed. i do believe you think what now you speak, but what we do determine oft we break.
purpose is butthe slave to memory, of violent birthbut poor validity, which now,like fruit unripe, sticks on the treebut falls unshakenwhen they mellow be. most necessary'tis that we forgetto pay ourselves... what to ourselves is debt. what to ourselvesin passion we propose, the passion ending,doth the purpose lose. the violence of either grief or joy...
their own enactureswith themselves destroy. where joy most revels,grief doth most lament, grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident. [ groans ] this world is not for aye, and 'tis not strangethat even our loves shouldwith our fortunes change. for 'tis a questionleft us yet to prove... whether love leads fortuneor else fortune love. the great man down, you'll mark his favorite flies, poor men advanced make friends of enemies.
and hitherto does loveon fortune tend, for who not needsshall never lack a friend, and who in wanta hollow friend doth try... directly seasons himhis enemy. but, orderlyto end where i begun, our wills and fatesdo so contrary run... that our devices stillare overthrown. our thoughts are ours,their ends none of our own. so think thou wiltno second husband wed,
but die thy thoughtswhen thy first lord is dead. nor earth to megive food nor heaven light. sport and repose lock from meday and night. to desperation turnmy trust and hope. an anchor's cheer in prisonbe my scope. each opposite that blanksthe face of joy... meet what i would have welland it destroy. both here and hencepursue me lasting strife... if, once a widow,ever i be wife.
if she should break it now. 'tis deeply sworn. sweet, leave me here a while. my spirits grow dull, and fain i would beguile... the tedious day with sleep. sleep rock thy brain,and never come mischance... between us twain. madam, how like youthis play? the lady doth protesttoo much, methinks.
but she'll keep her word! have you heard the argument?is there no offense in it? no, no, they do but jest,poison in jest--no offense in the world. - what do you call the play?- the mousetrap. marry, how? tropically.this play is the imageof a murder done in vienna. gonzago is the duke's name,his wife, baptista. you shall see anon.'tis a knavish piece of work,but what of that? your majesty, and we that havefree souls, it touches us not. let the galled jade wince,our withers are unwrung!
this is one lucianus, nephew to the king! [ ophelia ]you are as good as a chorus. i could interpret betweenyou and your love, if icould see the puppets dallying. you are keen, my lord. it would cost you a groaningto take off mine edge. still better, and worse. so you must takeyour husbands.begin, murderer! pox, leave thy damnable facesand begin! come, the croaking ravendoth bellow for revenge!
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 property... on wholesome lifeusurp immediately. he poisons him in the gardenfor his estate. his name's gonzago.the story is extant, andwritten in very choice italian.
you shall see anonhow the murderer getsthe love of gonzago's wife! [ ophelia gasps ]the king rises. what, frightedwith false fire? - how fares my lord?- give o'er the play! give me some light. away. - lights!- [ polonius ] lights! lights! horatio! horatio! "why, letthe stricken deer go weep,the hart ungalled play,
"for some must watchwhile some must sleep. thus runs the world away." would not this, sir,and a forest of feathers-- if the rest of my fortunesturn turk with me-- with two provincial roseson my razed shoes, get me afellowship in a cry of players? half a share. a whole one, i. "for thou dost know,o damon dear,this realm dismantled was... of jove himself,and now reigns herea very, very peacock."
you might have rhymed. oh, good horatio, i'll take the ghost's wordfor a thousand pound. didst perceive? very well, my lord. upon the talkof the poisoning? i did very well note him. ah. come, some music.come, the recorders. "for if the king like notthe comedy, why then, belike,he likes it not, perdy."
[ hamlet ]come, some music! good, my lord, vouchsafe mea word with you. sir, a whole history. the king, sir. what of him? is in his retirementmarvelous distempered. with drink, sir? no, my lord,rather with choler. your wisdom should show itselfmore richer to signifythis to his doctor,
for for me to put himto his purgation might perhapsplunge him into far more choler. put your discourse intosome frame, and start notso wildly from my affair. i am tame, sir.pronounce! the queen, your mother-- mm-hmm. in most great afflictionof spirit, sent me to you. you are welcome. nay, good my lord,this courtesy is notof the right breed. if it shall please you to makeme a wholesome answer, i willdo your mother's commandment.
if not, your pardonand my return shall bethe end of my business. sir, i cannot! what, my lord? make you a wholesome answer.my wit's diseased. but, sir, such answer asi can make you shall command, or rather,as you say, my mother. therefore, no more,but to the matter.my mother, you say-- then thus she says!your behavior hath struck herinto amazement and admiration. oh, wonderful son thatcan so astonish a mother!
but is there no sequel atthe heels of this mother'sadmiration? impart. she desires to speak with youin her closet ere you go to bed. we shall obey, were sheten times our mother. have you any further tradewith us? my lord, you once did love me. i do still, by thesepickers and stealers. good my lord,what is the causeof your distemper? you do freely bar the doorof your own liberty if you denyyour griefs to your friends. sir, i lack advancement.
how can that be when you havethe voice of the king himselffor your succession in denmark? aye, sir, but"while the grass grows--"the proverb is something musty. ♪♪ [ recorders ] ah! the recorders.let me see one. to withdraw with you--why do you go about... to recover the wind of me,as if you would drive meinto a toil? o my lord,if my duty be too bold,my love is too unmannerly. i do not well understand that.will you play upon this pipe? my lord, i cannot.
i pray you. believe me, i cannot. i do beseech you. i know no touch of it. it is as easyas lying, huh? govern these ventageswith your fingers and thumb,give it breath with your mouth. it will discoursemost eloquent music.look, these are the stops. but these cannot i commandto any utterance of harmony.i have not the skill. why, look you now,how unworthy a thingyou would make of me.
you would play upon me.you would seem to knowmy stops. you would pluck outthe heart of my mystery. you would sound mefrom my lowest noteto the top of my compass-- and there is much music,excellent voice,in this little organ-- yet cannot youmake it speak. 'sblood! do you thinki am easier to beplayed upon than a pipe? call me what instrumentyou will, though you can fret me,yet you cannot play upon me-- god bless you, sir.
my lord, the queen would speakwith you, and presently. do you seeyonder cloud that's almostin the shape of a camel? by the mass, and 'tislike a camel indeed. methinks it is like a weasel. it is backed like a weasel. or like a whale? very like a whale. then i will come tomy mother by and by. they fool meto the top of my bent.i will come by and by!
i will say so! "by and by" is easily said. leave me, friends. i like him not,nor stands it safe with usto let his madness range. therefore prepare you.i your commissionwill forthwith dispatch, and he to englandshall along with you. the terms of our estatemay not endure hazardso dangerous... as doth hourly growout of his lunacies. we will ourselves provide.
most holy andreligious fear it is to keepthose many, many bodies safe... that live and feedupon your majesty. the single and peculiar lifeis bound by all the strengthand armor of the mind... to keep itself from noyance, but much more that spiritupon whose weal depends... and rests the lives of many. the cease of majestydies not alone, but like a gulf doth drawwhat's near it with it. it is a massy wheelfixed on the summitof the highest mount,
to whose huge spokesten thousand lesser thingsare mortised and adjoined; which, when it falls,each small annexment,petty consequence, attendsthe boisterous ruin. never alonedid the king sighbut with a general groan. arm you, i pray you,to this speedy voyage, for we will fettersput upon this fear,which now goes too free-footed. we will haste us. my lord. he's going tohis mother's closet.
behind the arrasi'll convey myselfto hear the process. i'll warrantshe'll tax him home. and, as you said,and wisely was it said, 'tis meet that some moreaudience 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 goto bed and tell you what i know. thanks, dear my lord. 'tis now the verywitching 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 asthe day would quake to look on. soft. now to my mother. o heart, lose not thy nature,let not ever the soul of neroenter this firm bosom. let me be cruel,not unnatural. i will speak daggers to her,but use none. my tongue and soul in thisbe hypocrites. how in my words soever she be shent, to give them seals never, my soul, consent.
oh, my offense is rank. it smells to heaven. it hath the primaleldest curse upon it, a brother's murder. prayer can i not,though inclinationbe as sharp as will. my stronger guiltdefeats my strong intent. and like a man to doublebusiness bound, i stand in pausewhere i shall first begin, and both neglect. what if this cursed handwere thicker than itselfwith brother's blood,
is there not rain enoughin the sweet heavensto wash it white as snow? whereto serves mercy but toconfront the visage of offense? and what's in prayerbut this twofold force, to be forestalledere we come to fall... or pardoned being down? then i'll look up,my fault is past. but oh, what form of prayercan serve my turn? "forgive me my foul murder"? that cannot be,
since i am stillpossessed of those effectsfor which i did the murder-- my crown, mine own ambition,and my queen. may one be pardonedand retain the offense? in the corrupted currentsof this world... offense's gilded handmay shove by justice, and oft 'tis seenthe wicked prize itself... buys out the law. but 'tis not so above. there is no shuffling,there the action liesin his true nature,
and we ourselves compelled evento the teeth and forehead... of our faultsto give in evidence. what then? what rests? try what repentance can.what can it not? yet what can itwhen one cannot repent? oh, wretched state. oh, bosom black as death. oh, limed soul, that struggling to be freeart more engaged.
help, angels. make assay. bow, stubborn knees, and heart withstrings of steel, be soft as sinewsof the newborn babe. all may be well. [ thinking ]now might i do it pat, now he is praying. and now i'll do it.
and so he goes to heaven, and so am i revenged. that would be scanned: a villain kills my father, and for that i, his sole son, so this same villain send to heaven? oh, this is hire and salary,not revenge. he took my father grossly,full of bread, with all his crimesbroad blown, as flush as may, and how his audit standswho knows save heaven?
but in our circumstanceand course of thought,'tis heavy with him. and am i then revenged,to take him in the purgingof his soul, when he is fit and seasoned for his passage? up, sword, and know thoua more horrid hent. when he is drunk asleep,or in his rage, or in the incestuous pleasureof his bed-- at game, at swearing,or about some act that hathno relish of salvation in 't-- then trip him, that his heelsmay kick at heaven... and that his soul may beas damned and black as hell,whereto it goes.
my mother stays. this physic but prolongs thy sickly days. [ thinking ]my words fly up,my thoughts remain below. words without thoughtsnever to heaven go. he will come straight.look you lay home to him. tell him his pranks have beento broad to bear with, and that your grace hathscreened and stood betweenmuch heat and him. i'll sconce me even here.pray you, be round with him. i'll warrant you.fear me not!
mother, mother, mother! withdraw, i hear him coming. now, mother,what's the matter? hamlet, thou hast thy fathermuch offended. you have my father offended. come, come, you answerwith an idle tongue. go, go, you questionwith a wicked tongue! why, how now? what's the matter now?
have you forgot me? no, by the rood, not so! you are the queen, yourhusband's brother's wife! and-- would it were not so--you are my mother! nay, then, i'll set thoseto you that can speak! come, come,and sit you down.you shall not budge! you go not 'til i set youup a glass where you may seethe inmost part of you! what wilt thou do?thou wilt not murder me?help! - what ho! help!- how now! a rat?
dead for a ducat! dead! [ groaning ] i am slain. oh me, whathast thou done? nay, i know not.is it the king? oh, what a rash andbloody deed is this. a bloody deed. almost as bad,good mother, as kill a kingand marry with his brother. as kill a king? aye, lady, 'twas my word.
thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, i took thee for thy better. take thy fortune. thou find'st to betoo busy is some danger. leave wringingof your hands. peace! sit you down,and let me wring your heart! for so i shall if itbe made of penetrable stuff, if damned custom have notbrassed it so that it be proofand bulwark against sense! what have i done that thoudarest wag thy tongue innoise so rude against me?
such an act that blursthe grace and blush of modesty, calls virtue hypocrite,takes off the rose... from the fair foreheadof an innocent love,and sets a blister there-- makes marriage vowsas false as dicers' oaths. oh, such a deed as fromthe body of contractionplucks the very soul, and sweet religionmakes a rhapsody of words. heaven's face doth glow! yea, this solidityand compound mass, with tristful visage,as against the doom,is thought-sick at the act.
aye me, what actthat roars so loudand thunders in the index? look here upon this picture,and on this, the counterfeit presentmentof two brothers. see what a gracewas seated on this brow-- hyperion's curls,the front of jove himself, an eye like mars,to threaten and command, a station like the heraldmercury new-lightedon a heaven-kissing hill, a combination and a formindeed where every goddid seem to set his seal... to give the worldassurance of a man.
this was your husband. look you now what follows. here is your husband, like a mildewed ear, blasting hiswholesome brother. have you eyes?could you on thisfair mountain... leave to feed andbatten on this moor? huh? have you eyes? you cannot call it love,for at your age the heydayin the blood is tame! it's humble, and waitsupon the judgment. and what judgment would stepfrom this to this?
sense sure you have,else could you not have motion. but sure that senseis apoplexed; for madness would not err,nor sense to ecstasywas ne'er so thralled... but it reservedsome quantity of choiceto serve in such a difference. what devil was 't that thus hathcozened you at hoodman-blind? eyes without feeling,feeling without sight, ears without hands or eyes,smelling sans all, or but a sickly partof one true sensecould not so mope. oh, shame!
where is thy blush? rebellious hell, if thou canst mutinein a matron's bones, to flaming youthlet virtue be as waxand melt in her own fire. proclaim no shame whenthe compulsive ardorgives the charge, since frost itselfas actively doth burn,and reason panders will! o hamlet, speak no more.thou turn'st mine eyesinto my very soul, and there i see suchblack and grained spots aswill not leave their tinct. nay, but to live in the ranksweat of an enseamed bed,
stewed in corruption,honeying and making loveover the nasty sty-- oh, speak to me no more,these words like daggersenter in my ears! no more, sweet hamlet! a murderer and a villain, a slave that is nottwentieth part the titheof your precedent lord, a vice of kings,a cutpurse of the empireand the rule, that from a shelfthe precious diadem stoleand put it in his pocket! no more! a king of shredsand patches--
save me, and hovero'er me with your wings,you heavenly guards. what would your graciousfigure? alas, he's mad. do you not comeyour tardy son to chide that, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by the important actingof your dread command? oh, say. [ whispering ]do not forget. this visitationis but to whet...
thy almost blunted purpose. but look, amazementon thy mother sits. oh, step between herand her fighting soul. conceit in weakest bodies... strongest works. speak to her, hamlet. how is it with you, lady? alas, how is 't with you... that you do bend your eyeon vacancy...
and with the incorporal airdo hold discourse? forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep, and as the sleeping soldiersin the alarm, your bedded hair, like lifein excrements, start upand stand on end. o gentle son, uponthe heat and flameof thy distemper... sprinkle cool patience. whereon do you look? on him. look you how pale he glares.
his form and cause conjoined, preaching to stones,would make them capable. do not look upon me, lest with this piteous actionyou convert my stern effects. then what i have to dowill want true color--tears perchance for blood. to whom do youspeak this? do you see nothing there? nothing at all. yet all that is i see.
nor do you nothing hear? no, nothing but ourselves. look you there!look how it steals away! my father!in his habit as he lived! look where he goes,even now, out at the portal! this is the very coinageof your brain. this bodiless creationecstasy is very cunning in. ecstasy? my pulse, as yours,doth temperately keep time,
and makes as healthful music. it is not madnessthat i have uttered. bring me to the testand i the matter will reword, which madnesswould gambol from. mother, for love of grace, lay not that flatteringunction to your soul, that not your trespassbut my madness speaks. it will but skin and filmthe 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 spreadthe compost on the weedsto make them ranker. forgive me this my virtue, for in the fatnessof these pursy times... virtue itselfof vice must pardon beg. yea, curb and woo for leaveto do him good. thou hast cleftmy heart in twain. oh, throw awaythe worser part of it, and livethe purer with the other half.
good night.but go not to my uncle's bed. assume a virtueif you have it not. that monster, custom,who all sense doth eat,of habits devil, is angel yet in this,that to the use of actionsfair and good... he likewise gives a frockor livery that aptly is put on. refrain tonight,and that shall lenda kind of easiness... to the next abstinence,the next more easy. for use almost can changethe stamp of nature,and either shame the devil, or throw him outwith wondrous potency.
once more, good night. and when you aredesirous to be blest, i'll blessing beg of you. for this same lord,i do repent; but heaven hath pleased it so,to punish me with this,and this with me, that i must betheir scourge and minister. i will bestow him,and will answer wellthe death i gave him. so again good night. i must be cruelonly to be kind.
thus bad begins,and worse remains behind. one word more, good lady. what shall i do? not this, by no means,that i bid you do. let the bloat kingtempt you again to bed, pinch wanton on your cheek,call you his mouse, and let him, fora pair of reechy kisses... or paddling in your neckwith his damned fingers, make you to ravelall this matter out, thati 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 paddockfrom a bat, a gib,such dear concernings hide? who would do so?no, in despiteof sense and secrecy, unpeg the basketon 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. be thou assured...
if words be madeof breath... and breath of life, i have no life to breathewhat thou hast said to me. i must to england.you know that? alack, i had forgot. 'tis so concluded on. there's letters sealed,and my two schoolfellows, whom i will trustas i will adders fanged,they bear the mandate. they must sweep my way,and marshal me to knavery.
let it work, for 'tis the sportto have the engineer hoistwith his own petard. and it shall go hard... but i will delveone yard below their mines... and blow them at the moon: oh, 'tis most sweetwhen in one line... two crafts directly meet. this man shall set me packing. i'll lug the guts into the neighbor room. mother, good night,indeed.
this counseloris now most still, most secret,and most grave... who was in lifea foolish prating knave. come, sir, to draw towardan end with you. good night, mother. [ gasping ] oh![ gasps ] there's matter in these sighs,these profound heaves.
you must translate.'tis fit we understand them.where is your son? bestow this place on usa little while. oh, mine own lord,what have i seen tonight? what, gertrude?how does hamlet? mad as the sea and windwhen both contendwhich is the mightier. in his lawless fit,behind the arrashearing something stir, whips out his rapier,cries "a rat, a rat!" and in thisbrainish apprehensionkills the unseen... good old man.
oh, heavy deed! it had been so with ushad we been there! his liberty is fullof threats to all! to you yourself, to us,to everyone! alas, how shall thisbloody deed be answered? it will be laid to us, whose providenceshould have kept short,restrained and out of haunt, this mad young man. but so much was our lovewe would not understandwhat was most fit,
but, like the ownerof a foul disease, to keep it fromdivulging let it feedeven on the pith of life! where is he gone? to draw apartthe body he hath killed, o'er whom his very madness, like some ore amongsta mineral of metals base, shows itself pureor weeps for what is done. o gertrude! come away! the sun no soonershall the mountains touchbut we will ship him hence.
and this vile deed we mustwith all our majesty and skill, both countenance and excuse. ho, guildenstern.friends both, go join youwith some further aid. hamlet in madnesshath polonius slain, and from his mother's closethath he dragged him. go seek him out, speak fair,and bring the bodyinto the chapel. i pray you, haste in this! come, gertrude. we'll call up our wisest friendsand let them know...
both what we mean to doand what's untimely done, so when be a slander,whose whisper o'erthe world's diameter... as level as the cannonto his blank transportshis poison shot, may miss our nameand hit the woundless air. oh, come away! my soul is fullof discord and dismay. safely stowed. [ guildenstern ]hamlet! lord hamlet! but soft, what noise?who calls on hamlet?
lord hamlet! oh, here they come. what have you done, my lord,with the dead body? compounded it with dust,whereto 'tis kin. tell us where 'tis,that we may take it thenceand bear it to the chapel. i do not believe it. believe what? that i can keep your counseland not mine own. besides, to bedemanded of a sponge.
what replication should bemade by the son of a king? taking me for a sponge,my lord? aye, sir, that soaks up the king'scountenance, his rewards,his authorities. but such officers do the kingbest service in the end. he keeps them, like an ape,an apple, in the cornerof his jaw, first mouthed,to be last swallowed. when he needswhat you have gleaned,it is but squeezing you... and, sponge, youshall be dry again.
i understand you not,my lord. i am glad of it. a knavish speechsleeps in a foolish ear. my lord, you must tell uswhere the body is,and go with us to the king. the body is with the king,but the king is notwith the body! the king is a thing-- a thing, my lord? of nothing.bring me to him. hide fox, and all after!
[ ophelia ]my good lord hamlet! [ grunting ] [ ophelia ]hamlet! [ woman gasps ] hamlet! [ hammer clicks ] i have sent to seek him,and to find the body. how dangerous is itthat this man goes loose. yet must not we putthe strong law on him.
he's loved ofthe distracted multitude, who like not in their judgmentbut their eyes; and where 'tis so,the offender's scourgeis weighed, but never the offense. to bear all smooth and even,this sudden sending him away... must seem deliberate pause. diseases desperate grownby desperate applianceare relieved, or not at all. [ door opens ] how now! what hath befallen?
where the dead body is bestowed,my lord, we cannot get from him. but where is he? without, my lord, guarded,to know your pleasure. bring him before us. ho, guildenstern!bring in my lord. now, hamlet,where's polonius? at supper. at supper? where? not where he eats,but where he is eaten.
a certain convocationof politic wormsare e'en at him. your worm is youronly emperor for diet. we fat all creatures elseto fat us, and we fatourselves for maggots. your fat kingand your lean beggar... is but variable service,two dishes, but to one table. that's the end. alas, alas. a man may fish with the wormthat hath eat of a king, and eat of the fishthat hath fed of that worm.
what dost thou mean by this? nothing but to show you... how a king may go a progressthrough the guts of a beggar. [ screaming ]where is polonius? in heaven--send thither to see. if your messengerfind him not there, seek himi' the other placeyourself. but if indeed you find himnot within this month,you shall... nose him as you go upthe stairs into the lobby.
go seek him there. ah![ clears throat ] he will stay'til you come. hamlet, this deed of thine,for thine especial safety, which we do tender,as we dearly grievefor that which thou hast done, must send thee hencewith fiery quickness. therefore prepare thyself.the bark is readyand the wind at help, the associates tendand every thingis bent for england. for england?
aye, hamlet. good. so is it if thouknew'st our purposes. i see a cherubthat sees them. but, come, for england!farewell, dear mother. thy loving father,hamlet. mother. father and motheris man and wife, man and wife is one flesh,and so, my mother.
come, for england. [ whispers ]stay. follow him at foot,tempt him with speed aboard. delay it not,i'll have him hence tonight.away! for everything is sealedand done that else leans on theaffair. pray you make haste! and, england, if my lovethou hold'st at aught-- as my great power thereofmay give thee sense, since yet thy cicatricelooks raw and redafter the danish sword, and thy free awepays homage to us--
thou mayst not coldly setour sovereign process, which imports at full,by letters congruingto that effect, the present deathof hamlet! do it, england, for like the hecticin my blood he rages, and thou must cure me! 'til i know 'tis done,howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun. [ ophelia ]no! no! no!
no! no![ screaming ] [ continues screaming ] [ screaming continues,fades ] [ horse snorts ] go, captain, from me greetthe danish king. tell him that by his license fortinbras... craves the conveyanceof a promised marchover his kingdom. you know the rendezvous.
if that his majestywould aught with us, we shall express our dutyin his eye, and let him know so. i will do it. go... softly... on. good sir,whose powers are these? they are of norway, sir. -how purposed, sir, i pray you?-against some part of poland. - who commands them, sir?- the nephew of old norway,fortinbras. goes it against the main of poland, sir, or for some frontier?
truly to speak,and with no addition, we go to gain a little patchof ground that hath in itno profit but the name. to pay five ducats, five,i would not farm it. nor will it yield to norwayor the pole a ranker rateshould it be sold in fee. why, then the polacknever will defend it. yes, it isalready garrisoned. two thousand soulsand twenty thousand ducats... will not debate the questionof this straw. this is the imposthumeof much wealth and peace,
that inward breaks,and shows no causewithout why the man dies. - i humbly thank you, sir.- god be with you, sir. will it please you go,my lord? i'll be with you straight. go a little before. how all occasionsdo inform against me... and spur my dull revenge. what is a man... if his chief goodand market of his timebe but to sleep and feed?
a beast, no more. sure, he that made uswith such large discourse, looking before and after,gave us not that... capability and godlike reasonto fust in us unused. now whether it bebestial oblivion, or some craven scrupleof thinking too preciselyon the event-- a thought which, quartered,hath but one part wisdomand ever three parts coward-- i do not know why yeti live to say, "this thing's to do,"
sith i have cause,and will, and strength,and means to do it. examples gross as earthexhort me. witness this armyof such mass and charge, led by a delicateand tender prince... whose spirit withdivine ambition puffed... makes mouthsat the invisible event, exposing what ismortal and unsure... to all that fortune,death, and danger dare, even for an eggshell.
rightly to be great is notto stir without great argument, but greatly to find quarrelin a straw... when honor's at the stake. how stand i then, that have a father killed,a mother stained, excitements of my reasonand my blood, and let all sleepwhilst to my shame... i see the imminent death... of twenty thousand men...
that for a fantasyand trick of fame... go to their graveslike beds, fight for a plotwhereon the numberscannot try the cause, which is not tomb enoughand continent... to hide the slain? oh, from this time forth, my thoughts be bloody... or be nothing worth! [ king ] when sorrows come,they come not single spies,but in battalions:
first, her father slain;next your son gone, and he most violent authorof his own just remove; the people muddied,thick and unwholesome... in their thoughts and whispersfor good polonius' death, and we have done but greenlyin huggermugger to inter him; poor ophelia, divided fromherself and her fair judgment, without the which we arepictures or mere beasts; last, and as muchcontaining as all these, her brother who isin secret come from france,
feeds on this wonder,keeps himself in clouds, and wants not buzzers to infecthis ear with pestilent speechesof his father's death. wherein necessity,of matter beggared, will nothing stickour persons to arraignin ear and ear. o my dear gertrude,this like to a murdering piece, in many places gives mesuperfluous death! out! [ grunting continues ] i-i will not speak with her.
she is importunate,indeed distract. her mood willneeds be pitied. what would she have? she speaks much ofher father, says she hearsthere's tricks i' the world, and hemsand beats her heart. spurns enviouslyat straws, speaks things in doubtthat carry but half-sense. her speech is nothing,yet the unshaped useof it... doth move the hearersto collection.
they aim at it,and botch the words upfit to their own thoughts, which, as her winks and nodsand gestures yield them, indeed would make one thinkthere might be thought, though nothing sure,yet much unhappily. 'twere goodshe were spoken with, for she may strewdangerous conjecturesin ill-breeding minds. let her come in. to my sick soul,as sin's true nature is, each toy seems prologueto some great amiss.
so full of artless jealousyis guilt, it spills itselfin fearing to be spilt. where is the beauteousmajesty of denmark? how now, ophelia. "how should i your truelove knowfrom another one? by his cockle hat and staffand his sandal shoon." alas, sweet lady,what imports this song? say you? nay, pray you, mark.
"he is dead and gone, lady.he is dead and gone. at his head a grass-green turf,at his heels a stone." nay, but, ophelia-- pray you, mark! "white his shroudas the mountain snow-- alas, look here, my lord. "larded with sweet flowers,which bewept to the grave... did not go withtruelove showers." how do you, pretty lady?
well, god yield you. they say the owlwas a baker's daughter. lord, we know what we arebut know not what we may be. god be at your table. conceit upon her father. pray you--aah! let's haveno words of this! but when they ask youwhat it means, say you this: "tomorrow issaint valentine's day,
"all in the morning betime, "and i a maid at your window, "to be your valentine. "then up he rose,and donned his clothes,and dupped the chamber door, let in the maid, that outa maid never departed more." - pretty ophelia?- indeed, la, without an oath, i'll make an end on 't. "by gis and by saint charity,alack, and fie for shame. "young men will do it,if they come to it,
"by cock, they are to blame! "quoth she,before you tumbled me,you promised me to wed. "so would i had done,by yonder sun, an thou hadst notcome to my bed." how long hath she been thus? i hope all will be well. we must be patient. but i cannotchoose but weep... to think they should lay himi' the cold ground.
my brother shall know of it. [ gasps ]and so i thank you... for your good counsel! come, my coach. good night, ladies.good night, sweet ladies. good night!good night, sweet ladies!good night! follow her close! good night! give her good watch,i pray you.
oh, this is the poisonof deep grief. it springs allfrom her father's death. but now behold, o gertrude--gertrude? alack, what noise is this? where are my switzers?let them guard the doors! what is the matter? save yourself, my lord! the ocean, overpeering ofhis list, eats not the flatswith more impetuous haste... than young laertes,in a riotous head,o'erbears your officers!
the rabble called him lord,and as the world were nowbut to begin, antiquity forgot, customnot known, the ratifiersand props of every word, they cry "choose we--laertes shall be king!" caps, hands and tonguesapplaud it to the clouds-- "laertes shall be king! laertes king!" how cheerfully onthe false trail they cry! oh, this is counter,you false danish dogs! [ king ] the doors are broken! where is this king?
sirs,stand you all without. no, let's come in! i pray you,give me leave! we will. i thank you. [ laertes ]keep the door! o thou vile king!give me my father! calmly, good laertes! that drop of bloodthat's calm proclaims mebastard!
cries cuckold to my father,brands the harlot even here, between the chaste unsmirchedbrow of my true mother! what is the cause,laertes, that thy rebellionlooks so giantlike? let him go, gertrude.do not fear our person. there's such divinitydoth hedge a king that treasoncan but peep to what it would, act little of his will. tell me, laertes,why thou art thus incensed. let him go, gertrude.speak, man. - where is my father?- dead.
[ queen ]but not by him. - let him demand his fill.- how came he dead? i'll not be juggled with!to hell, allegiance! vows, to theblackest devil! conscience and grace,to the profoundest pit! i dare damnation!to this point i stand, that both the worldsi give to negligence. let come what comes,only i'll be revenged mostthroughly for my father! - who shall stay you?- my will! not all the world!
and for my means,i'll husband them so well... they shall gofar with little. good laertes, if you desireto know the certaintyof your dear father's death, is 't writ in your revengethat, sweepstake, you willdraw both friend and foe, winner and loser? - none but his enemies.- will you know them, then? to his good friendsthus wide i'll ope my arms, and like the kindlife-rendering pelican,repast them with my blood! why, now you speak...
like a good childand a true gentleman. that i am guiltlessof your father's death, and am most sensiblyin grief for it. it shall as levelto your judgment pierceas day doth to your eye. [ nurse ]no! how now!what noise is that? o heat,dry up my brains. tears seven times saltburn out the senseand virtue of mine eye. [ ophelia groans,giggles ]
[ continues giggling ] by heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight... 'til our scaleturns the beam. o rose of may. dear maid.kind sister. sweet ophelia. oh heavens. is 't possible a young maid'swits should be as mortalas an old man's life? nature is fine in love,
and where 'tis fineit sends some preciousinstance of itself... after the thing it loves. "they bore him barefacedon the bier." ♪ hey, nonny, nonnyhey, nonny, nonny ♪ "and on his graverained many a tear."fare you well, my dove. hadst thou thy witsand didst persuade revenge, it could not move thus. you must sing--♪ down, a-down, a-downa-down, a-down ♪ and you... call him...
♪ a-down, a-down, a-down ♪♪ oh, how the wheelbecomes it. it was the false steward thatstole his master's daughter! - shh.- this nothing'smore than matter. there's rosemary.that's for remembrance. pray, love, remember. and there is pansies. that's for thoughts. a document in madness,
thoughts and remembrancefitted. there's fennel for you, and columbines. there's rue for you,and here's some for me. we may call itherb of grace o' sundays. oh, you must wear your ruewith a difference. there's a daisy. i would give you some violets,but they withered allwhen my father died. they say a' madea good end.
♪ for bonny sweet robin ♪ ♪ is all my joy ♪ thought and affliction, passion, hell itself, she turns to favorand to prettiness. ♪ and will a' notcome again ♪ ♪ no, no, he is dead ♪ ♪ go to thy deathbed ♪ ♪ he never will come again ♪ ♪ his beardas white as snow ♪
♪ all flaxen was his poll ♪ ♪ he is gonehe is gone ♪ ♪ and we cast away moan ♪ ♪ god ha' mercyon his soul ♪♪ and of all christian souls, i pray god. god bye you. do you see this?o-oh, god. laertes, i must communewith your grief,or you deny me right.
go but apart,make choice of whom yourwisest friends you will, and they shallhear and judge'twixt you and me. if by director by collateral handthey find us touched, we will our kingdom give,our crown, our life... and all that we call oursto you in satisfaction. but if not,be you content to lendyour patience to us... and we shall jointlylabor with your soulto give it due content. let this be so. his means of death,
his obscure burial, no trophy, sword nor hatchmento'er his bones, no noble ritenor formal ostentation, cry to be heard, as 'twerefrom heaven to earth, i must call 'tin question. so you shall, and where the offense islet the great ax fall. i pray you,go with me. what are theythat would speak with me?
sailors, sir.they say they haveletters for you. [ water running ] [ ophelia screams ] [ door opens, closes ] [ dead bolt sets ] i do not know fromwhat part of the worldi should be greeted, if not from lord hamlet. let himbless thee too. he shall, sir.there's a letterfor you, sir.
it comes from the ambassadorthat was bound for england-- if your name be horatio,as i am let to know it is. "horatio, when thou shalthave overlooked this, "give these fellowssome means to the king. "they have lettersfor him. "ere we were two days oldat sea, a pirate of verywarlike appointment... "gave us chase. "finding ourselvestoo slow of sail, "we put on a compelled valor,and in the grapplei boarded them.
"on the instant they got clearof our ship, so i alonebecame their prisoner. "they have dealt with melike thieves of mercy; "but they knew what they did--i am to do a good turnfor them. "let the king have the lettersi have sent, and repair thouto me with as much haste... "as thou wouldstfly death. "i have wordsto speak in thine earwill make thee dumb, "yet they are much too lightfor the bore of the matter. "these good fellowswill bring thee where i am. "rosencrantz and guildensternhold their course for england.
"of them i have muchto tell thee. "farewell.he that thou knowest thine, come, i will give you wayfor these your letters, and do it the speedier thatyou may direct me to himfrom whom you brought them. now must your consciencemy acquittance seal, and you must put mein your heart for friend. since you have heard,and with a knowing ear, that he which hathyour noble father slainpursued my life. it well appears.
but tell me whyyou proceeded notagainst these feats, so crimefuland so capitalin nature... as by your safety,wisdom, all things else,you mainly were stirred up. oh, for twospecial reasons, which may to youseem much unsinewed, but yet to methey're strong. the queen, his mother,lives almost by his looks, and for myself--my virtue or my plague,be it either which-- she is so conjunctiveto my life and soul...
that as the star moves notbut in his sphere, i could not but by her. the other motivewhy to a public counti might not go... is the great lovethe general gender bear him, who, dipping all his faultsin their affections, would, like the springthat turneth wood to stone,convert his gyves to graces. so that my arrows,too slightly timberedfor so loud a wind, would have revertedto my bow again but notwhere i had aimed them. and so have ia noble father lost,
a sister driveninto desperate terms, whose worth, if praisesmay go back again, stood challengeron mount... of all the agefor her perfections. but my revengewill come. break not your sleepsfor that. you must not thinkthat we are made of stuffso flat and dull... that we can let our beardbe shook with dangerand think it pastime. you shortlyshall hear more.
i loved your father, and we love ourself, and that, i hope,will teach you to imagine-- how now.what news? letters, my lord,from hamlet. this to your majesty,this to the queen. from hamlet?who brought them? sailors, my lord, they say.i saw them not. they were given meby claudio.
he received them of himthat brought them. laertes,you shall hear them.leave us. "high and mighty,you shall know that i amset naked on your kingdom. "tomorrow i shall beg leaveto see your kingly eyes, "when i shall, first askingyour pardon thereunto,recount the occasion... of my sudden andmore strange return.hamlet." what should this mean? are all the rest come back?or this some abuse,and no such thing? know you the hand?
oh, 'tis hamlet'scharacter. "naked"?and in a postscript herehe says, "alone." - can you advise me?- i am lost in it, my lord. but let him come. it warms the very sicknessin my heart that i shall liveand tell him to his teeth, "thus diest thou." if it be so, laertes-- as how should it be so,how otherwise--will you be ruled by me? aye, my lord,if so you will noto'errule me to a peace.
to thine own peace. if he be now returned,as checking at his voyage, and that he means no moreto undertake it, i will work himto an exploit now ripein my device, under the whichhe shall not choosebut fall. and for his deathno wind of blameshall breathe, but even his mothershall uncharge the practiceand call it accident. my lord, i will be ruled,the rather if you coulddevise it... so that i might bethe organ.
it falls right. you have been talked ofsince your travels much,and that in hamlet's hearing, for a quality whereinthey say you shine. your sum of parts did nottogether pluck such envyfrom him as did that one, and that in my regardof the unworthiest siege. - what part is that, my lord?- a very ribbonin the cap of youth. yet needful too; for youthno less becomes the light andcareless livery that it wears... than settled agehis sables and his weeds, importing healthand graveness.
two months since, here was a gentlemanof normandy. i have seen myself,and served against,the french, and they can wellon horseback. but this gallanthad witchcraft in it. he grew into his seat,and to such wondrous doingbrought his horse... as he had beenincorpsed and deminaturedwith the brave beast. so far he topped my thoughtthat i, in forgeryof shapes and tricks, come short of what he did.
a norman, was 't? a norman! upon my life, lamond. the very same! i know him well.he is the brooch indeedand gem of all our nation. he made confession of you,and gave you sucha masterly report... for art and exercisein your defense, and for your rapiermost especial, that he cried out'twould be a sight indeedif one could match you.
the scrimersof their nation,he swore, had neither motion, guardnor eye if you opposed them. sir, this report of hisdid hamlet so envenomwith his envy... that he could nothing do but wish and beg your sudden coming o'er, to play with him. now, out of this-- what out of this, my lord? laertes, was your fatherdear to you? or are you like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart?
- why ask you this?- not that i think youdid not love your father, but that i know loveis begun by time, and that i see,in passages of proof, time qualifiesthe spark and fire of it. there lives withinthe very flame of love... a kind of wick or snuffthat will abate it. and nothing is ata like goodness still, for goodness,growing to a pleurisy, dies in his own too much.
that we would do... we should dowhen we would; for this "would" changesand hath abatementsand delays... as many as thereare tongues, are hands,are accidents, and then this "should"... is like a spendthrift sighthat hurts by easing. but to the quick of the ulcer. hamlet comes back. what would you undertaketo show yourself in deedyour father's son... more than in words?
to cut his throatin the church. no place indeedshould murder sanctuarize. revenge should haveno bound. but, good laertes,will you do this? keep closewithin your chamber. hamlet returned shall knowthat you are come home. we'll put on those shallpraise your excellence... and set a double varnishon the famethe frenchman gave you, bring you in fine togetherand wager on your heads.
he, being remiss,most generous and freefrom all contriving, will not peruse the foils, so that with ease,or with a little shuffling, you may choosea sword unbated, and in a pass of practicerequite him for your father. i will do it, and for that purposei'll anoint my sword. i bought an unctionof a mountebank... so mortal thatbut dip a knife in it,
where it draws bloodno cataplasm so rare, collected from all simplesthat have virtue under the moon, can save the thing from deaththat is but scratched withal. i'll touch my pointwith this contagion, that if i gall him slightly, it may be death. let's furtherthink on this, weigh what convenienceboth of time and meansmay fit us to our shape. if this should fail,
and that our drift look throughto our bad performance,'twere better not assayed. therefore this projectshould have a backor second... that might holdif this did blast in proof. soft, let me see. we'll make a solemn wageron your cunnings. i have it. when in your motionyou are hot and dry-- as make your boutsmore violent to that end-- and that he calls for drink,i'll have prepared hima chalice for the nonce,
whereon but sipping,if he perchance escapeyour venomed stuck, our purposemay hold there. [ door rattling ] but stay. what noise? how now, sweet queen. one woe doth treadupon another's heels, so fast they follow. your sister's... drowned,
laertes. drowned? oh. where? there is a willowgrows aslant a brook... that shows his hoary leavesin the glassy stream. there with fantastic garlandsdid she make... of crowflowers,nettles, daisiesand long purples...
that liberal shepherdsgive a grosser name, but our cold maids dodead men's fingerscall them. there onthe pendent boughs... her crowned weedsclambering to hang, an envious sliver broke, when down her weedy trophiesand herself fellin the weeping brook. her clothes spread wide, and mermaid-like... awhile they bore her up--
which time she chantedsnatches of old tunes, as one incapableof her own distress, or like a creature nativeand indued unto that element. but longit could not be... 'til that her garments,heavy with their drink, pulled the poor wretchfrom her melodious layto muddy death. alas, then,s-she is drowned? drowned. too much of water hast thou,poor ophelia,
and thereforei forbid my tears. but yet it is our trick-- nature her custom holds. let shamesay what it will. when these are gone,the woman will be out. adieu, my lord. i have a speech of firethat fain would blaze... but that this follydouts it. let's follow, gertrude.
how much i had to doto calm his rage. now fear i this will give it start again, therefore... let's follow! [ shovel digging ] is she to be buriedin christian burial... that willfully seeksher own salvation? i tell thee she is,therefore make her gravestraight. the coroner hath sat on her...
and finds itchristian burial. how can that be,unless she drowned herselfin her own defense? - why, 'tis found so.- it must be "se offendendo."it cannot be else. for here lies the point. if i drown myself wittingly,it argues an act, and an acthath three branches-- it is to act, to doand to perform. argal, she drowned herselfwittingly. - nay, but hear you,goodman delver--- give me leave.
here lies the water.good? here stands the man.good? if the man go to this waterand drown himself, it is, will he, nill hehe goes, mark you that; but if the watercome to him and drown him,he drowns not himself. argal, he that isnot guilty of his own deathshortens not his own life. - but is this law?- aye, marry, is 't. coroner's quest law. will you have the truthon it?
if this had not beena gentlewoman, she should have been buriedout of christian burial. why, there thou say'st. and the more pitythat great folks should havecountenance in this world... to drownor hang themselves morethan they're even christian. come, my spade. there is no ancientgentleman... but gardeners, ditchersand gravemakers. - they hold upadam's profession.- was he a gentleman?
- he was the firstthat ever bore arms.- why, he had none. what, art a heathen?how dost thou understandthe scripture? the scripture says adam digged. could he dig without arms? i'll put anotherquestion to thee. if thou answerest menot to the purpose,confess thyself-- - go to.- what is he thatbuilds stronger... than either the mason,the shipwrightor the carpenter? the gallows-maker,for that frame outlivesa thousand tenants.
[ laughing ] i like thy wit well,in good faith.the gallows does well. but how does it well?it does well to thosethat do ill. now thou dost ill to saythe gallows is builtstronger than the church; argal, the gallowsmay do well to thee. to it again, come. who builds strongerthan a mason, a shipwrightor a carpenter? - tell me that, and unyoke.- marry, now i can tell. to it.
mass, i cannot tell. cudgel thy brainsno more about it, for your dull ass will notmend his pace with beating, and when you are asked this question next, say, "a gravemaker." the houses that he makeslast 'til doomsday. get thee to johan. fetch me a stoupof liquor. [ gurgling sound ]
♪ in youth when i did lovedid love ♪ ♪ oh, methoughtit was very sweet ♪ ♪ to contract; oh, the timefor-a my behoove ♪ ♪ oh, methought there wasnothing-a meet ♪ ♪♪ [ continues: humming ] has this fellowno feeling of his business, that he singsat grave-making? custom hath made it in hima property of easiness. 'tis e'en so. the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.
♪ but agewith his stealing steps ♪ ♪ has clawed mein his clutch ♪ ♪ and hath shipped meintil the land ♪ ♪ as if i had neverbeen such ♪ that skull had a tongue in it,and could sing once. how the knave jowls itto the ground as ifit were cain's jawbone, that didthe first murder. this might bethe pate of a politician whichthis ass now o'erreaches-- one that would circumvent god,might it not?
it might, my lord. or a courtier which could say,"good morrow, sweet lord.how dost thou, sweet lord?" this might bemy lord such-a-one who praisedmy lord such-a-one's horse... when he meant to beg it,might it not? why, even so. and nowmy lady worm's chapless, and knocked about the mazzardwith a sexton's spade. here's fine revolution,and we had the trickto see it. did these bones costno more the breeding...
but to play at loggatswith 'em? mine ache to think on 't. ♪♪ [ whistling ] [ hamlet chuckles ]there's another. why, might that not bethe skull of a lawyer? where be his quiddities now,his quillets, his cases, his tenuresand his tricks? why does he sufferthis rude knave now... to knock him about the sconcewith a dirty shovel,
and will not tell himof his action of battery? this fellow might be in 's timea great buyer of lands... with his statutes,his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers,his recoveries. ♪♪ [ continues humming ] is this the fineof his fines... and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine patefull of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch himno more of his purchases,
and double ones too, that the length and breadthof a pair of indentures? the very conveyancesof his land will scarcelylie in this box, and must the inheritor himself have no more? not a jot more, my lord. is not parchmentmade of sheepskins? aye, my lord, and of calfskins too. they are sheep and calveswhich seek out assurancein that. - i will speak to this fellow.- ♪♪ [ continues humming ]
whose grave's this,sirrah? mine, sir. ♪ oh, a pit of clayfor to be madefor such a guest is meet ♪♪ i think it be thine indeed,for thou liest in 't. you lie out on 't, sir,and therefore it is not yours. for my part,i do not lie in 't,and yet it is mine. thou dost lie in 't,to be in 't and say'tis thine. 'tis for the dead,not for the quick,therefore thou liest. 'tis a quick lie, sir.'twill away againfrom me to you.
what man dost thoudig it for? for no man, sir. for what woman, then? for none neither. who is to be buriedin 't? one that was a woman, sir,but, rest her soul, she's dead. how absolutethe knave is. we must speak by the card,or equivocationwill undo us. these three years i have taken note of it--
the age has grownso picked... the toe of the peasant comesso near the heel of thecourtier, he galls his kibe. how long hast thoubeen a gravemaker? of all the days in the year,i came to it that daythat our last king, hamlet, o'ercame fortinbras. - how long is that since?- cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that. it was the very daythat young hamlet was born, he that was madand sent into england.
aye, marry, why was hesent into england? why?because he was mad. he shall recover his witsthere, or if he do not,'tis no great matter there. - why?- 'twill not be seenin him there-- there the menare as mad as he. - how came he mad?- very strangely, they say. - how "strangely"?- faith, e'en withlosing his wits. - upon what ground?- why, here in denmark. [ groans ]
i have been sexton here,man and boy, for thirty years. how long will a manlie i' the earthere he rot? i' faith, if he be notrotten before he die-- as we have many pocky corpsesnowadays that will scarcehold the laying in-- he will last yousome eight year or nine year. - a tanner willlast you nine year.- why he more than another? why, sir, his hide is so tannedwith his trade that he willkeep out water a great while, and your wateris a sore decayerof your whoreson dead body. here's a skull, sir.
now, this skull has lainin the earth threeand twenty years. - whose was it?- whoreson mad fellow's it was. - whose do you think it was?- nay, i know not. a pestilence on himfor a mad rogue. he poured a flagonof rhenish on my head once. this same skull, sir,was yorick's skull,the king's jester. - this?- e'en that. let me see.
alas, poor yorick. i knew him, horatio. a fellowof infinite jest,of most excellent fancy. he hath borne me on his backa thousand times, and now how abhorredin my imagination it is. my gorge rises at it. here hung those lipsthat i have kissedi know not how oft. where be your gibes now?
your gambols?your songs? your flashes of merrimentthat were wont to setthe table on a roar? not one now,to mock your own grinning. quite chopfallen. now get youto my lady's chamber. tell her, let her paintan inch thick, to this favorshe must come-- make her laugh at that. - prithee, horatio,tell me one thing.- what's that, my lord?
dost thou think alexanderlooked o' this fashioni' the earth? e'en so. - and smelt so?[ moans ]- e'en so, my lord. to what base useswe may return, horatio. why may not imagination tracethe noble dust of alexander... 'til he find itstopping a bunghole? 'twere to considertoo curiouslyto consider so. no, faith, not a jot,but to follow him thitherwith modesty enough... and likelihoodto lead it as thus.
alexander died,alexander was buried, alexander returneth to dust;the dust is earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam,whereto he was converted, might they not stopa beer barrel? imperious caesar, dead and turned to clay, might stop a holeto keep the wind away. oh, that that earth...
which kept the worldin awe... should patch a wallto expel the winter's flaw. - [ bird shrieking ] - but soft. but soft. aside--here comes the king, the queen,the courtiers. who is this they follow? and with such maimed rites? this doth betokenthe corpse they follow... did with desperate handfordo its own life.
'twas of some estate. couch we awhile,and mark. what ceremony else? that is laertes,a very noble youth.mark. her obsequieshave been as far enlargedas we have warranty. her death was doubtful, and but that great commando'ersways the order, she should in ground unsanctified have lodged 'til the last trumpet; for charitable prayers,shards, flints and pebblesshould be thrown on her.
yet here she hasher virgin rights,her maiden strewments... and the bringing homeof bell and burial. - must there no more be done?- no more be done. we should profanethe service of the dead... to sing sage requiemand such rest to heras to peace-parted souls. lay her in the earth. and from her fair and unpolluted flesh... may violets spring. i tell thee, churlish priest,
a ministry angelshall my sister bewhen thou liest howling! fair ophelia. sweetest of the sweet, farewell. i hoped thou shouldsthave been my hamlet's wife. i thought thy bride bedto have decked, sweet maid,and not have strewed thy grave. oh, treble woe... fall ten times trebleon that cursed head... whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense deprived thee of. hold off the earth a while 'til i have caught her once more in my arms!
now pile your dustupon the quick and dead... 'til of this flata mountain you have madeto o'ertop old pelion... or the skyish head of blue olympus! what is he whose griefbears such an emphasis? whose phraseof sorrow conjuresthe wandering stars... and makes them stand like wonder-wounded hearers? this is i,hamlet the dane! the devil take thy soul! [ gasps ]thou pray'st not well.
take thy fingersfrom my throat. for though i am not splenitive and rash, yet have i in me somethingwhich let thy wisdom fear. - hold off thy hand!- pluck them asunder! hamlet! hamlet! good my lord, be quiet. i will fight with himupon this theme... until my eyelidsno longer wag! - oh, my son, what theme?- i loved ophelia!
forty thousand brotherscould not, with all theirquantity of love, make up my sum! - what wilt thou dofor her?- oh, he is mad, laertes. for the love of god,forbear him. 'swounds, show mewhat thou'lt do. would weep?would fight? huh? would fast?would tear thyself?would drink up eisel? eat a crocodile?i'll do it! dost thou come hereto whine, to outface mewith leaping in her grave?
be buried quick with her,and so will i. if thou prate of mountains,let them throw millionsof acres on us, 'til our ground,singeing his pateagainst the burning zone, make ossa like a wart. nay, and thou'lt mouth,i'll rant as well as thou! this is mere madness, and thus awhilethe fit will work on him. anon, as patientas the female dove... when thather golden coupletsare disclosed,
his silencewill sit drooping. hear you, sir,what is the reasonthat you use me thus? i loved you ever. but it is no matter. let hercules himselfdo what he may. the cat will mew... and dogwill have his day. i pray you, good horatio, wait upon him. strengthen your patiencein our last night's speech.
we'll put the matterto the present push. good gertrude. set some watchover your son. this grave shall havea living monument. an hour of quietshortly shall we see. 'til then, in patienceour proceeding be. so much for this, sir.now shall you see the other. you do rememberall the circumstance? remember it, my lord.
sir, in my heartthere was a kind of fightingthat would not let me sleep. methought i layworse than the mutinesand the bilboes. rashly, and praisedbe rashness for it,let us know, our indiscretionssometime serve us well... when our deep plotsdo pall. and that should learn usthere's a divinity... that shapes our ends, roughhew themhow we will. that is most certain.
up from my cabin,my sea gown scarfed about me, in the dark groped i tofind out them, had my desire,fingered their packet... and in fine withdrewto mine own room again, making so bold,my fears forgetting manners, to unsealtheir grand commissionwhere i found, horatio-- ah, royal knavery-- an exact command,larded with many severalsorts of reasons, importing denmark's healthand england's too, with suchbugs and goblinsin my life...
that, on the supervise,no leisure bated, no, not to staythe grinding of the ax, my headshould be struck off. here's the commission.read it at more leisure. but wilt thou hear nowhow i did proceed? i beseech you. being thus benetted roundwith villainies-- ere i could makea prologue to my brains,they had begun the play-- i sat me down,devised a new commission,wrote it fair.
[ chuckles ]i once did hold it,as our statists do, a baseness to write fair,and labored much how toforget that learning. but, sir, nowit did me yeoman service. wilt thou know the effectof what i wrote? aye, good my lord. an earnest conjurationfrom the king, as england washis faithful tributary, as love between themlike the palm might flourish, as peace should stillher wheaten garland wear...
and stand a comma'tween their amities, and many suchlike "ases"of great charge, that, on the viewand know of these contents, without debatement further,more or less, he should those bearersput to sudden death, not shriving timeallowed. - how was this sealed?- why, even in thatwas heaven ordinant. i had my father's signetin my purse, which wasthe model of that danish seal. folded the writ upin the form of the other,subscribed it,
gave 't the impression,placed it safely,the changeling never known. the next day was our sea fight, and what to this was sequentthou knowest already. so... guildensternand rosencrantz go to 't. why, man, they did make loveto this employment. they are not nearmy conscience. their defeat does bytheir own insinuation grow. 'tis dangerous whenthe baser nature...
comes between the passand fell incensed pointsof mighty opposites. why, what a king is this. does it not, think'st thee,stand me now upon-- he that hath killed my kingand whored my mother, popped in betweenthe election and my hopes, thrown out his anglefor my proper life,and with such cozenage-- is 't not perfect conscienceto quit him with this arm? and is 'tnot to be damned... to let this cankerof our naturecome in further evil?
it must be shortly known to himfrom england what is the issueof the business there. it will be short. the interim is mine, and a man's life... no more than to say"one." i am very sorry,good horatio, that to laertesi forgot myself, for by the image of my causei see the portraiture of his. i'll court his favors.
but, sure, the braveryof his grief did put meinto a towering passion. [ door opens ] [ horatio whispers ] peace! who comes here? - your lordship is right welcomeback to denmark.- i humbly thank you, sir. - [ whispers ]dost know this water fly?- no, my good lord. thy state is the more gracious,for 'tis a vice to know him. he hath much land,and fertile. let a beastbe lord of beasts...
and his crib shall standat the king's mess. 'tis a chough,but, as i say, spaciousin the possession of dirt. sweet lord, if your friendshipwere at leisure, i should impart a thingto you from his majesty. i shall receive it, sir,with all diligence of spirit. put your bonnetto its right use;'tis for the head. i thank your lordship,but it is very hot. no, 'tis very cold.the wind is northerly. it is indifferent cold,my lord, indeed.
but yet methinks'tis very sultry and hotfor my complexion. exceedingly, my lord. it is very sultry, as 'twere--i cannot tell how. but, my lord, his majestybade me signify to you... that he hath laida great wager on your head. sir,this is the matter-- i beseech you, remember--hmm? nay, good my lord,for mine ease, in good faith. sir, here is newlycome to court laertes--
believe me,an absolute gentleman, full of most excellentdifferences, of very soft societyand great showing. indeed, to speakfeelingly of him, he is the cardor calendar of gentry, for you shall find in himthe continent of what parta gentleman would see. sir, his definementsuffers no perdition in you, though i know to divide him inventorially would dizzy the arithmetic of memory, and yet but yaw neither,in respect ofhis quick sail.
but in the verity ofextolment, i take him to bea soul of great article, and his infusionof such dearth and rareness as,to make true diction of him, his semblableis his mirror, and who else would trace him,his umbrage-- nothing more. your lordship speaksmost infallibly of him. the concernancy, sir? why do we wrap the gentlemanin our more rawer breath? - sir?- is 't not possible tounderstand in another tongue? you will to it, sir,really.
what imports the nominationof this gentleman? - of laertes?- his purse is emptyalready. all's golden wordsare spent. of him, sir. - i know you are not ignorant.- i would you did, sir. yet, in faith, if you did,it would not much approve me.well, sir? you are not ignorantof what excellencelaertes is. i dare not confess that,lest i should comparewith him in excellence. - but to know a man wellwere to know himself.- i mean, sir, for his weapon.
but in the imputation laidon him by them and his meed,he's unfellowed. - what his weapon?- rapier and dagger. that's two of his weapons,but well. the king, sir,hath wagered with him... six barbary horses, - against the whichhe has imponed--- "imponed"? as i take it, six french rapiersand poniards,with their assigns, as girdle, hangar or so--
three of the carriage,in faith,are very dear to fancy, very responsiveto the hilts, most delicate carriage,and of very liberal conceit. what call youthe "carriage"? i knew you must beedified by the margentere you had done. the carriages, sir,are the hangers. the phrase would be more germaneto the matter if we could carrycannon by our side. - i would it might behangers 'til then.- [ laughs loudly ] but, on-- six barbary horsesagainst six french swords,
their assigns and threeliberal-conceited-- - carriage. - carriage. that's the french betagainst the danish. why is this "imponed,"as you call it? the king, sir, hath laid, sir,that in a dozen passesbetween you and him, he shall not exceed youthree hits. he hath laid ontwelve for nine, and it would cometo immediate trial...
if your lordshipwould vouchsafe the answer. how if i answer no? i mean, my lord, the oppositionof your person in trial. sir, i will walk herein the hall. if it please his majesty,it is the breathing timeof day with me. let the foils be brought,the gentleman willing andthe king hold his purpose. i will win for him,and i can. if not, i shall gainnothing but my shameand the odd hits. shall i redeliver youe'en so?
to this effect, sir,after what flourishyour nature will. - i commend my dutyto your lordship.- yours, yours. um-- he does well tocommend it himself. there are no tongueselse for his turn. this lapwing runs away with the shell on his head. he did comply with his dugbefore he sucked it. thus has he-- and many moreof the same bevy that i knowthe drossy age dotes on-- only got the tuneof the time...
and outward habitof encounter, a kind of yeasty collectionwhich carries themthrough and through... the most fondand winnowed opinions-- and do but blow themto their trial, the bubbles are out. his majesty commended him to you by young osric, who brings back to himthat you attend himin the hall. he sends to knowif your pleasure holdsto play with laertes, or that you will takelonger time.
i am constant to my purposes.they follow the king's pleasure. if his fitness speaks,mine is ready,now or whensoever, provided i beso able as now. - the king and queen and allare coming down.- in happy time. the queen desires you to somegentle entertainment to laertesbefore you fall to play. she well instructs me. you will lose this wager,my lord. i do not think so. since he went into francei have beenin continual practice.
i shall win at the odds. but thou wouldst not thinkhow ill all's hereabout my heart. nay, good my lord-- 'tis but foolery, but it is such a kindof gaingiving... as would perhapstrouble a woman. if your mind dislikeanything, obey it. i will forestalltheir repair hitherand say you are not fit. not a whit.
we defy augury. there is a special providencein the fall of a sparrow. if it be now,'tis not to come; if it be not to come,it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come. the readiness is all. since no man knows aughtof what he leaves, what is to leavebetimes?
let be. come, hamlet, come, and take this handfrom me. give me your pardon,sir. i have done you wrong. but pardon 't,as you are a gentleman. [ hamlet continues ]this presence knows, andyou must needs have heard, how i am punishedwith a sore distraction. what i have done thatmight your nature, honorand exception roughly awake,
i here proclaim was madness. was 't hamletwronged laertes?never hamlet. if hamlet from himself beta'en away, and when he's nothimself does wrong laertes, then hamlet does it not,hamlet denies it. who does it then? his madness. if 't be so,hamlet is of the factionthat is wronged. his madnessis poor hamlet's enemy. sir, in this audience let my disclaiming from a purposed evil...
free me so far in your most generous thoughts... that i have shot mine arrowo'er the house, and hurt my brother. i am satisfied in nature, whose motive in this caseshould stir me mostto my revenge. but in my terms of honor, i stand aloof,and will no reconcilement... until by some elder mastersof known honor... i have a voiceand precedent of peaceto keep my name ungored.
but 'til that time... i do receive your offered lovelike love... and will not wrong it. i do embrace itfreely, and willthis brother's wagerfrankly play. give us the foils. come on. come one for me. i'll be your foil,laertes. in mine ignoranceyour skill shall,
like a starin the darkest night,stick fiery off indeed. - you mock me, sir.- no. by this hand. give them the foils,young osric. [ king ]cousin hamlet,you know the wager. very well, my lord.your grace has laidthe odds o' the weaker side. i do not fear it.i have seen you both. but since he is bettered,we have therefore odds. this one's too heavy.let me see another. [ foils scraping ]
this likes me well.these foils haveall the length. aye, my good lord. set me the stoups of wineupon that table. if hamlet give the firstor second hit, or quit in answerof the third exchange, let all the battlementstheir ordnance fire. the king shall drinkto hamlet's better breath, and in the cupa union shall he throw... richer than thatwhich four successive kingsin denmark's crown have worn.
give me the cup, and let the kettle to the trumpet speak, the trumpet tothe cannoneer without,the cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth, "now the king drinksto hamlet." come, begin, and you, the judges,bear a wary eye. - come on, sir.- come, my lord. [ both grunting ] - [ hamlet ]one!- [ queen gasps ]
no! judgment! a hit!a very palpable hit! - [ laertes ] well, again! - [ king ] stay! give me drink. hamlet,this pearl is thine. here's to thy health. give him the cup. i'll play this bout first.set it by a while.
- [ guard groaning ]- [ soldiers grunting ] come! [ hamlet shouts ] aaaah! yaaah! - [ hamlet groans ]- aaah! nyaaah! aaaaaah! another hit!what say you? - a touch.a touch, i do confess. - [ cheering, applause ]
our son shall win. he's fatand scant of breath. [ observers laughing ] here, hamlet,take my napkin,rub thy brows. the queen carousesto thy fortune, hamlet. good madam. gertrude! do not drink. [ laughs ] i will, my lord.
i pray you pardon me. [ thinking ]'tis the poisoned cup. it is too late. i dare not drink yet,madam-- by and by. come,let me wipe thy face. my lord,i'll hit him now. i do not think it. and yet 'tis almostagainst my conscience. attack!
come for the third,laertes.you but dally. i pray you passwith your best violence. i am afeard youmake a wanton of me. say you so? - come on!- [ observers gasp ] have at you now. [ hamlet ] yaaaah! [ hamlet ]hold! [ both yell ]
[ observers murmuring ] [ both groaning ] aaaah![ groans ] - nothing, neither way!- part them!they are incensed! nay! come again! - [ both grunting ]- look to the queen there, ho! [ foils clanging ] they bleed on both sides! [ screaming ]
- [ moaning ]- how is 't, laertes? why, as a woodcockto mine own springe, osric, i am justly killedwith mine own treachery. - how does the queen?- she swounds to see them bleed. [ queen ] no. no. the drink. the drink. oh, my dear hamlet. i am... poisoned. villainy.
let the doors be locked! treachery! seek it out! it is here, hamlet! hamlet, thou art slain. no medicine in the worldcan do thee good. in thee there is nohalf an hour of life. the treacherous instrument is in thy hand, unbated and envenomed. the foul practicehath turned itself on me.
lo, here i lie,never to rise again. thy mother's poisoned. i can no more. the king!the king's to blame! - treason!- treason! - [ blow lands ]- [ groans ] the point... envenomed too. then, venom,
to thy work. oh, yet defend me,friends! i am but hurt! aaaaaah! here, thou incestuous, murderous,damned dane. drink of this potion.is thy union here? - follow my mother. - [ king groaning ] he is justly served.
it is a poisontempered by himself. exchange forgiveness with me,noble hamlet. mine and my father's deathcome not upon thee, nor thine on me. heaven make theefree of it. i follow thee. [ whispering ]i am dead, horatio. [ groans ] wretched queen,
adieu. you that look paleand tremble at this chance, that are but mutesor audience to this act, had i but time-- aaaaah! as this fell sergeant, death,is strict in his arrest-- oh, i could tell you. but let it be. horatio,i am dead, thou livest. report me and my cause arightto the unsatisfied.
never believe it. i am more an antique romanthan a dane. there's yetsome liquor left. as thou 'rt a man,give me the cup.let go! by heaven! i'll have 't. [ cup clatters ] what a wounded name, things standing thus unknown,shall live behind me.
if thou didst everhold me in thy heart, absent theefrom felicity a while, and in this harsh world... draw thy breath in painto tell my story. what warlike noiseis this? young fortinbras, [ explosions continue ] with conquestcome from poland, to the ambassadors of englandgives this warlike volley.
i die, horatio. the potent poison... quite o'ercrows my spirit. i cannot live to hearthe news from england, but i do prophesy... the... election... lights on fortinbras. [ groaning ]he hath my dying voice.
so tell him, w-w-with the occurrents,more and less, which have solicited. the rest.. is... silence. now cracks a noble heart. good night, sweet prince, and flights of angelssing thee to thy rest.
♪♪ [ drum ] why does the drum come hither? [ rifles cocking ] [ fortinbras ] where is this sight? what is it you would see? if aught of woe or wonder, cease your search. this quarrycries on havoc. o proud death,
what feast is towardin thine eternal cellthat thou... so many princes at a shotso bloodily hast struck? [ ambassador ]the sight is dismal, and our affairs from englandcome too late. the ears are senselessthat should give us hearing, to tell him his commandmentis fulfilled, that rosencrantzand guildenstern... are dead. where should wehave our thanks?
not from his mouth, had it the ability of lifeto thank you. he never gave commandmentfor their death. but since,so jump upon this... bloody question, you from the polack wars, and you from england are here arrived, give orderthat these bodies... high on a stagebe placed to the view,
and let me speak to the yet unknowing world... how these thingscame about. so shall you hear of carnal, bloody... and unnatural acts, of accidental judgments,casual slaughters, of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause, and, in this upshot, purposes mistook fallenon the inventors' heads.
all this... can i truly deliver. let us haste to hear it, and call the noblestto the audience. for me, with sorrowi embrace my fortune. i have some rights of memoryin this kingdom, which now to claimmy vantage doth invite me. of that i shall have alsocause to speak,
and from his mouth whose voice will draw on more. but let this samebe presently performed, even while men's mindsare wild, lest more mischanceon plots and errors happen. let four captainsbear hamlet, like a soldier,to the stage. for he was likely,had he been put on,to have proved most royally. and for his passagethe soldiers' music... and the rites of warspeak loudly for him.
take up the body. such a sight as thisbecomes the field, but here shows much amiss. bid the soldiers shoot. [ rifles firing ] closed-captioned bycaptions, inc. los angeles ♪♪ ♪♪ [ man singing:latin ] ♪♪ [ continues ]
♪♪ [ singing ends ]
