A heart unfortified, a mind impatient,
An understanding simple and unschool'd:
For what, we know, must be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
Take it to heart? Fye! 'tis a fault to heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason most absurd. For your intent
In going back to school in Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our desire:
And, we beseech you, bend you to remain
Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.
Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers,
Hamlet;
I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.
Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam..
King. Why, 'tis a loving and fair reply;
Be as ourself in Denmark.-Madam, come;
This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart in grace whereof,
No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day,
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell;
And the king's rouse the heavens shall bruit again,
Re-speaking earthly thunder.
Come away.
[Exeunt KING, QUEEN, Lords, &c.,
POL., and LAERTES.
Ham. O, that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon * 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seems to me all the uses of this world!
Fye on't! O fye! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to seed; things rank 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 mother,
That he might not beteem § the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly yet, within a month,—
Let me not think on't;-Frailty, thy name is
woman!
A little month; or ere those shoes were old,
With which she follow'd my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears, why she, even she,-
O heaven! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,
Would have mourn'd longer,-married with mine
uncle,
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My father's brother; but no more like my father,
Than I to Hercules: Within a month;
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing of her galled eyes,
She married :-O most wicked speed,
It is not, nor it cannot come to, good;
But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
Enter HORATIO, BERNARDO, and MARCELLUS.
Hor. Hail to your lordship!
Ham.
I am glad to see you well;
Horatio, or I do forget myself.
Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant
*Canon means law.
Merely means entirely.
Hyperion means Apollo. ? Beteem means suffer.
But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg ?
Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.
Ham. I would not have your enemy say so;
Nor shall you do mine car that violence,
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself: I know you are no truant.
But what is your affair in Elsinore?
We'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.
Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's
funeral.
Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow
student;
I think it was to see my mother's wedding.
Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.
Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd
Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.
Hor. I saw him once, he was a goodly king.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again.
Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
Ham. Saw! who?
Hor. My lord, the king, your father.
Ham.
The king, my father.
Hor. Season your admiration for a while
With an attent ear; till I may deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.
For heaven's love, let me hear.
Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,
In the dead waste and middle of the night,
Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father
Arm'd at all points, exactly, cap-á-pé,
Appears before them, and, with solemn march,
Goes slow and stately by them. This to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did;
And I with them the third night kept the watch,
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes: I knew your father;
These hands are not more alike.
Ham.
But where was this?
Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we
watch'd.
Ham. Did you not speak to it?
Hor.
My lord, I did
But answer made it none: yet once, methought,
It lifted up its head, and did address
Itself to motion, like as it would speak :
But, even then, the morning cock crew loud;
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
And vanish'd from our sight.
Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true, | No more. And we did think it writ down in our duty,
Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. And keep within the rear of your affection,
Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
Mar., Ber. Longer, longer.
Hor. Not when I saw it.
Ham.
Out of the shot and danger of desire.
The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon :
Virtue itself escapes not calumnious strokes :
The canker galls the infants of the spring,
Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd ;
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Oph. I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,
As watchmen to my heart: But, good my brother,
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
Whilst like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And reeks not his own read.†
O, fear me not.
I stay too long;-But here my father comes.
Enter POLONIUS.
A double blessing is a double grace;
Occasion smiles upon a second leave.
Pol. Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame;
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
His beard was grisly? no. And you are staid for. There, my blessing with Hor. It was as I have seen it in his life, A sable silver'd.
Ham.
I will watch to-night;
Perchance 'twill walk again.
Hor.
I warrant it will.
Ham. If it assume my noble father's person,
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape,
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
Let it be treble in your silence still;
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night;
Give it an understanding, but no tongue ;
I will requite your loves. So fare ye well:
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.
All. Our duty to your honour." Ham. Your love, as mine to you: Farewell. [Exeunt HOR., MAR., and BER. My father's spirit in arms! all is not well; I doubt some foul play: would the night were
Till then sit still my soul. Foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. [Exit.
SCENE. A Room in Polonius' House.
Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA.
Laer. My necessaries are embark'd; farewell; And, sister, as the winds give benefit, And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, But let me hear from you.
Oph. Do you doubt that? Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favours, Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood; A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, The perfume and suppliance of a minute;
[Laying his hand on LAERTES' head.
And these few precepts in thy memory
See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel: but, being in,
Bear 't that the opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy; rich, but not gaudy:
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be:
For loan oft loses both itself and friend;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all,-To thine ownself be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell; my blessing season this in thee!
Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. Pol. The time invites you; go, your servants tend.
Laer. Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well What I have said to you. Oph.
'Tis in my memory lock'd, And you yourself shall keep the key of it. Laer. Farewell.
[Exit LAERTES. Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you? Oph. So please you, something touching the lord Hamlet.
Chariest means most cautious.
† Reeks not his own read, means reads not his own lessons.
HAMLET, waiting.-Enter Ghost.
Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd,
Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from
hell,
Be thy intents wicked, or charitable,
Thou com'st in such a questionable shape,
That I will speak to thee: I'll c ll thee Hamlet.
King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me ;
Let me not burst in ignorance! but tell,
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,
Have burst their cerements! why the sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To cast thee up again! What may this mean,
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel,
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous; and we fools of nature,
So horridly to shake our disposition †
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ?
Say, why is this?
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres ;
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine;
But this eternal blazon* must not be
To ears of flesh and blood:-List, Hamlet, O list!-
If thou didst ever thy dear father love,—
Ham. O heaven!
Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murther.
Ghost. Murther most foul, as in the best it is;
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
Ham. Haste me to know it; that I, with wings
as swift
As meditation, or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.
Ghost.
I find thee apt;
And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,
Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear;
'Tis given out, that sleeping in mine orchard,
A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process of my death
Rankly abus'd; but know, thou noble youth,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life,
Now wears his crown.
Ham. O my prophetic soul! mine uncle!
Ghost. Ay,
With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,
He won to himself the love
Of my most seeming virtuous queen;
O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there.
From me, whose love was of that dignity,
That it went hand in hand even with the vow
I made to her in marriage; and to decline
Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor
To those of mine!
But soft! methinks I scent the morning's air.
Brief let me be :-Sleeping within mine orchard,
My custom always in the afternoon,
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
A poisonous distilment.
Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand,
Of life, of crown, and queen, at once despatch'd,
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd ;†
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head:
O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act,
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
Against thy mother aught; leave her to heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!
The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire:
Adieu, adieu, Hamlet! remember me.
Ham. O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else?
And shall I couple hell?-O fye !-Hold, my heart, * Blazon means display.
Without sacraments, unprepared, without unction.
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me stiffly up!-Remember thee?
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe. Remember thee?
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
That youth and observation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, yes, by heaven.
O most pernicious woman!
O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
My tables, my tables,-meet it is I set it down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark. [Exit.
Enter POLONIUS and OPHELIA. Pol. How now, Ophelia? what's the matter? Oph. Alas, my lord, I have been so affrighted! Pol. With what, in the name of heaven?
Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my chamber,
Lord Hamlet,—with his doublet all unbrac'd;
No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd,
Ungarter'd, and down-gyved* to his ancle;
Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other;
And with a look so piteous in purport,
As if he had been loosed out of hell,
To speak of horrors, he comes before me.
Pol. Mad for thy love?
My lord, I do not know;
What said he?
Oph. He took me by the wrist, and held me hard;
Then goes he to the length of all his arm;
And with his other hand thus, o'er his brow
He falls to such perusal of my face,
As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so ;
At last, a little shaking of mine arm,
And thrice his head thus waving up and down,——
He raised a sigh so piteous and profound,
That it did seem to shatter all his bulk,
And end his being: That done, he lets me go:
And with his head over his shoulder turn'd,
He seem'd to find his way without his eyes.
For out o'doors he went without their help,
And, to the last, bended their light on me.
Pol. Go with me; I will go seek the king.
This is the very exstasy of love;
Whose violent property foredoes itself,
And leads the will to desperate undertakings,
As oft as any passion under heaven
That does afflict our natures.
I am sorry-
What, have you given him any hard words of late?
Oph. No, my good lord; but, as you did com-
SCENE. A Room in the Castle.
HAMLET reading-enter POLONIUS.
How does my good lord Hamlet?
Ham. Well, god-a'-mercy.
Pol. Do you know me, my lord?
Ham. Excellent well; you are a fishmonger. Pol. Not I, my lord.
Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man. Pol. Honest, my lord?
is to be one man picked out of a thousand. Ham. Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, Have you a daughter?
Pol. I have, my lord. harping on my daughter; yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a fishmonger: He is far gone, far gone and truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for love; very near this. I'll speak to him again.-What do you read, my lord? Ham. Words, words, words! Pol. What is the matter, my lord? Ham. Between who?
Pol. I mean the matter that you read, my lord. Ham. Slanders, sir; for the satirical slave says here, that old men have greybeards; that their faces are wrinkled. All of which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down; for you yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward.
Pol. Though this be madness, yet there is method in it. [Aside.] Will you walk out of the air, my lord?
Pol. Indeed, that is out o' the air. How pregoften madness hits on, which reason and sanity nant sometimes his replies are! a happiness that could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter.--My honourable lord, I will humbly take my leave of you.
Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more willingly part withal; except my life, my life.
Pol. Fare you well, my lord.
Ham. These tedious old fools!
Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.
Pol. You go to seek my lord Hamlet; there he
*Hanging down like fetters.
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[TO POLONIUS. [Exit POLONIUS. Ham. My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both?
Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth. Guil. Happy, in that we are not over happy. Ham. What's the news? Ros. None, my lord; but that the world's grown honest.
Ham. Then is doom's-day near: But your news is not true. Let me question more in particular: What have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune, that she sends you to prison hither?
Guil. Prison, my lord!
Ham. Denmark's a prison.
Ros. Then is the world one.
Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons; Denmark being one of the worst.
Ros. We think not so, my lord.
Hum. Why, then 'tis none to you for there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so; to me it is a prison.
Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one; 'tis too narrow for your mind.
Ham. O God! I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space: were it not that I have bad dreams. I have of late (but wherefore, I know not) lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises: and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging-this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculty in form and moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how 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, no, nor woman neither; though, by your smiling, you seem to say so.
Ros. My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.
Ham. Why did you laugh, then, when I said, "Man delights not me ?"
Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you: we coted them on the way; and hither are they coming, to offer you service.
Ham. He that plays the king shall be welcome; his majesty shall have tribute of me; the adventurous knight shall use his foil and target: the lover shall not sigh gratis; the humourous man shall end his part in peace: the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickled o' the sere; and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt for't.-What players are they?
Ros. Even those you were wont to take delight in, the tragedians of the city. Enter POLONIUS. Ham. 'Tis well; rest soon.-Good my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for they are the abstracts, and brief chronicles, of the time. After your death you were better have a bad epitaph, than their ill report while you lived.
Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their desert.
Ham. Odd's bodikin man, better: Use every man after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping! Use them after your own honour and dignity: the less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty.
[Exit POLONIUS with ROSENCRANTZ and GUIL
Pol. Come, sirs, I have heard,
That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,
Have by the very cunning of the scene
Been struck so to the soul, that presently
They have proclaimed their malefactions;
For murther, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these
players
Play something like the murther of my father,
Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;
I'll tent him to the quick; if he but blench,
I know my course. The play's the thing,
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
SCENE.-A Room in the Castle.
Enter KING, QUEEN, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.
King. And can you, by no drift of circumstance, Get from him, why he puts on this confusion; Grating so harshly all his days of quiet With turbulent and dangerous lunacy ?
Ros. He does confess he feels himself distracted; But from what cause he will by no means speak. Guil. Nor do we find him forward to be sounded; But with a crafty madness, keeps aloof,
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