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 HAMLET, 
 
 Prince of Denmark 
 
 / BY 
 
 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 
 n 
 
 i^ 
 
 EDITED BV 
 
 A'. C. PENDLETON, 
 
 
 Professor of Modern Languages and English Literature in Bethany 
 College, West Virginia. 
 
 CINCINNATI 
 
 STANDARD PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 1890 
 
. 4 9, fif. 
 
 Copyright, 1890, by 
 A. C. Pendleton. 
 
HAMLET, 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 DRAMATIS PE±!SON.£. 
 
 Claudius, King of Denmark. ^ 
 
 Hamlet, son to the late, and nephew to thTr 
 
 present king. 
 Polonius, lord chamberlain. 
 Horatio, friend to Hamlet. 
 Laertes, son to Polonius. 
 voltimand, 
 Cornelius, 
 
 ROSENCRANTZ, I courtiers 
 
 Guildenstern, f w> ur «« IS »« 
 » Osric, 
 
 A Gentleman, J 
 
 A Priest. 
 
 Marcellus, l omcers 
 . • Bernardo, } omcers - 
 
 Francisco, a soldier. 
 
 Reynaldo, servant to Polonius. 
 
 Players. 
 
 Two Clowns, grave-diggers. 
 
 Fortinbras, Prince of Norway. 
 
 A Captain. 
 
 English Ambassadors. 
 
 Gertrude, Queen of Denmark, and mother 
 
 to Hamlet. 
 Ophelia, daughter to Polonius. 
 
 Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Mes- 
 sengers, and other Attendants. 
 
 Ghost of Hamlet's Father. 
 
 Scene— Elsinore, Denmark. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. Elsinore. A platform before the castle. 
 
 Francisco at his jiost. Enter to him Bernardo. 
 
 Ber. Who 's there ? 
 
 Fran. Nay, answer me : stand, and unfold your- 
 self. 
 Ber. Long live the king ! 
 Fran. Bernardo ? 
 Ber. He. 
 Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour. 
 
4 HAMLET. 
 
 Ber. 'T is now struck twelve : get thee to bed, 
 
 Francisco. , 
 
 Fran. For this relief much thanks : 't is bitter 
 cold, 
 And I am sick at heart. 
 Ber. Have you had quiet guard ? 
 Fran. Not a mouse stirring. 
 
 Ber. Well, good-night. 
 If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, 
 The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. 
 
 Fran. I think I hear them. Stand, ho ! Who's 
 there ? 
 
 Enter Horatio and Marcellus. 
 
 Hor. Friends to this ground. 
 
 Mar. ' And liegemen to the Dane. 
 
 Fran. Give you good night. 
 
 Mar. 0, farewell, honest soldier : 
 
 Who hath relieved you ? 
 
 Fran. Bernardo hath my place. 
 
 Give you good night. [Exit. 
 
 Mar. Holla ! Bernardo ! 
 
 Ber. Say, 
 
 What, is Horatio there ? 
 
 Hor. A piece of him. 
 
 Ber. Welcome, Horatio : welcome, good Marcellus. 
 
 Mar. What, has this thing appear'd again to- 
 night ? 
 
 Ber. I have seen nothing. 
 
 Mar. Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy, 
 And will not let belief take hold of him 
 Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us : 
 Therefore I have entreated him along 
 With us to watch the minutes of this night ; 
 That if again this apparition come, 
 He may approve our eyes and speak to it. 
 
 Hor. Tush, tush, 't will not appear. 
 
 Ber. Sit down awhile ; 
 
 And let us once again assail your ears, 
 That are so fortified against our story, 
 What we two nights have seen. 
 
ACT I. — SCENE I. 5 
 
 Hor. Well, sit we down, 
 
 And let us hear Bernardo speak of this. 
 
 Ber. Last night of all, 
 When yond same star that 's westward from the pole 
 Had made his course to illume that part of heaven 
 Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself, 
 The bell then beating one, — 
 
 Enter Ghost. 
 
 • 
 
 Mar. Peace, break thee off; look where it comes 
 again ! 
 
 Ber. In the same figure, like the king that 's dead. 
 
 Mar. Thou art a scholar ; speak to it, Horatio. 
 
 Ber. Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio. 
 
 Hor. Most like : it harrows me with fear and won- 
 der. 
 
 Ber. It would be spoke to. 
 
 Mar. Question it, Horatio. 
 
 Hor. What art thou that usurp'st this time of 
 night, 
 Together with that fair and warlike form 
 In which the majesty of buried Denmark 
 Did sometimes march ? by heaven I charge thee, 
 speak ! 
 
 Mar. It is offended. 
 
 Ber. See, it stalks away ! 
 
 Hor. Stay ! speak, speak ! I charge thee, speak ! 
 
 [Exit Ghost. 
 
 Mar. 'T is gene, and will not answer. 
 
 Ber. How now, Horatio ! you tremble and look 
 pale : 
 Is not this something more than fantasy ? 
 What think you on't? 
 
 Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe 
 AVithout the sensible and true avouch 
 Of mine own eyes. 
 
 Mar. Is it not like the king ? 
 
 Hor. As thou art to thyself : 
 Such was the very armor he had on 
 When the ambitious Norway he combated ; 
 So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle, 
 
6 HAMLKT. 
 
 He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice. 
 'T is strange. 
 
 Mar. Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, 
 With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch. 
 
 Hor. In what particular thought to work I know 
 not; 
 But in the gross and scope of my opinion, 
 This bodes some strange eruption to our state. 
 
 Mar. Good now, sit down* and tell me, he that 
 knows, 
 Why this same strict and most observant watch 
 So nightly toils the subject of the land, 
 And why such daily cast of brazen cannon, 
 And foreign mart for implements of war; 
 Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task 
 Does not divide the Sunday from the week ; 
 What might be toward, that this sweaty haste 
 Doth make the night joint-laborer with the day : 
 Who is 't that can inform me ? 
 
 Ilor. That can I ; 
 
 At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king, 
 Whose image even but now appear'd to us, 
 Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway, 
 Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride, 
 Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet — 
 For so this side of our know T n world esteem'd him — 
 Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a seal'd compact, 
 Well ratified by law and heraldry, 
 Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands, 
 W 7 hich he stood seized of, to the conqueror : 
 Against the which, a moiety competent 
 Was gaged by our king ; which had return'd 
 To the inheritance ot Fortinbras, 
 Had he been vanquisher ; as, by the same covenant, 
 And carriage of the article design'd, 
 His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras, 
 Of unimproved mettle hot and full, 
 Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there 
 Shark'd up a list of landless resolutes, 
 For food and diet, to some enterprise 
 That hath a stomach in 't ; which is no other — 
 

 
 ACT I. — SCENE I. 
 
 As it doth well appear unto our s'ate— 
 Put to recover of us, by strong hand 
 And terms compulsatory, tho^e foresaid lands 
 So by his father lost: and this, I take it, 
 Is the main motive of our preparations, 
 The source of this our watch, and the chief head 
 Of this post-haste and romage in the land. 
 Ber. I think it be no other but e'en so : 
 AVell may it sort that this portentous figure 
 Comes armed through our watch ; so like the king 
 That was and is the question of these wars. 
 
 Bor. A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye. 
 In the most high and palmy state of Rome, m 
 A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, 
 The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead 
 Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets ; 
 As, stars with trains of fire, and dews of blood, 
 Disasters in the sun : and the moist star 
 Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands 
 Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse : 
 And even the like precurse of fierce events, 
 As harbingers preceding still the fates 
 And prologue to the omen coming on, 
 Have heaven and earth together demonstrated 
 Unto onr climatures and countrymen. 
 But soft, behold ! lo, where it comes again ! 
 
 Be enter Ghost. 
 I '11 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 thing to be done, 
 That may to thee do ease and grace to me, 
 Speak to me: [Cockcrows. 
 
 If thou art privy to thy country's fate, 
 Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid, 
 O, speak ! 
 
 Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life 
 Extorted treasure in the depths of earth, 
 For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death, 
 Speak of it: stay, and speak ! Stop it, Marcellus. 
 
HAMLET. 
 
 Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partisan ? 
 
 Hor. Do, if it will not stand. 
 
 Ber. 'Tis here ! 
 
 Hor. 'T is here. 
 
 Mar. 'Tis gone! [Exit Ghost. 
 
 We do it wrong, being so majestical, 
 To offer it the show of violence ; 
 For it is, as the air, invulnerable, 
 And our vain blows malicious mockery. 
 
 Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew. 
 
 Hor. And then it started like a guilty thing 
 Upon a fearful summons. I have heard, 
 The <*)ck, that is the trumpet to the morn, 
 Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat 
 Awake the god of day ; and, at his warning, 
 Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, 
 The extravagant and erring spirit hies 
 To his confine : and of the truth herein 
 This present object made probation. 
 
 Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock. 
 Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes, 
 Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, 
 The bird of dawning singeth all night long; 
 And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad ; 
 The nights are wholesome ; then no planets strike, 
 No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, 
 So hallow 'd and so gracious is the time. 
 
 Hor. So have I heard, and do in part believe it. 
 But look, the morn, in russet mantle glad, 
 Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill. 
 Break we our watch up ; and by my advice, 
 Let us impart what we have seen to-night 
 Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life, 
 This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him. 
 Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it, 
 As needful in our loves, fitting our duty ? 
 
 Mar. Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know 
 Where we shall find him most conveniently 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
ACT I. — SCENE II. 9 
 
 Scene II. .1 room of state in the castle. 
 
 Enter the King, Queen, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, 
 
 Yoltimand, Cornelius, Lords, and Attendants. 
 
 King. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's 
 death 
 The memory be green, and that it us befitted 
 To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom 
 To be contracted in one brow of woe, 
 Yet so far halh discretion fought with nature 
 That we with wisest sorrow think on him, 
 Together with remembrance of ourselves. 
 Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, 
 The imperial jointress to this warlike state, 
 Have we, as 't were with a defeated joy, — 
 With an auspicious and a dropping eye, 
 With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage, 
 In equal scale weighing delight and dole, — 
 Taken to wife : nor have we herein barr'd 
 Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone 
 With this affair along. For all, our thanks. 
 Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras, 
 Holding a weak supposal of our worth, 
 Or thinking by our late dear brother's death 
 Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, 
 Colleagued with the dream of his advantage, 
 He hath not fail'd to pester us with message, 
 Importing the surrender of those lands 
 Lost by his father, with all bonds of law, 
 To our most valiant brother. So much for him. 
 Now for ourself and for this time of meeting: 
 Thus much the business is : we have here writ 
 To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras, — 
 Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears 
 Of this his nephew's purpose, — to suppress 
 His further gait herein ; in that the levies, 
 The lists and full proportions, are all made 
 Out of his subjects : and we here despatch 
 You, good Cornelius, and you, Yoltimand, 
 For bearers of this greeting to old Norway ; 
 Giving to you no further personal power 
 
10 HAMLET. 
 
 To business with the king, more than the scope 
 
 Of these dilated articles allow. 
 
 Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty. 
 
 Cor. \ In that and all things will we show our 
 
 Vol. > duty. 
 
 King. We doubt it nothing: heartily farewell. 
 
 [Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius. 
 And now, Laertes, wln.t's the news with you ? 
 You told us of some suit ; what is 't, Laertes ? 
 You can not speak of reason to the Dane, 
 And lose your voice : what wouldst thou beg, Laertes, 
 That shall not be my offer, not thy asking ? 
 The head is not more native to the heart, 
 The hand more instrumental to the mouth, 
 Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. 
 What wouldst thou have, Laertes ? 
 
 Laer. My dread lord, 
 
 Your leave and favor to return to France ; 
 From whence though willingly I came to Denmark, 
 To show my duty in your coronation, 
 Yet now, I must confess, that duty done, 
 My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France 
 And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon. 
 
 King. Have you your father's leave? What says 
 Polonius ? 
 
 Pol. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow 
 leave 
 By laborsome petition, and at last 
 Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent : 
 I do beseech you, give him leave to go. 
 
 King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine, 
 And thy best graces spend it at thy will ! 
 But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son, — 
 
 Ham. [Aside'] A little more than kin, and less than 
 kind. 
 
 King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you ? 
 
 Ham. Not so, my lord ; I am too much i' the sun. 
 
 Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color off, 
 And let thine eyes look like a friend on Denmark. 
 Do not forever with thy vailed lids 
 Seek for thy noble father in the dust : 
 
ACT I. SCENE II. 11 
 
 Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, 
 Passing through nature to eternity. 
 
 Ham. Ay, madam, it is common. 
 
 Queen. If it be, 
 
 Why seems it so particular with thee ? 
 . Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not 
 
 seems. 
 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, 
 Nor customary suits of solemn black, 
 Nor windy suspiration of forced breath, 
 No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, 
 Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage, 
 Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief, 
 That can denote me truly: these indeed seem, 
 For they are actions that a man might play : 
 But I have that within which passeth show ; 
 These but the trappings and the suits of woe. 
 
 King. 'T is sweet and commendable in your nature, 
 Hamlet, 
 To give these mourning duties to your father : 
 But, you must know, your father lost a father ; 
 That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound 
 In filial obligation for some term 
 To do obsequious sorrow ; but to persever 
 In obstinate condolement is a course 
 Of impious stubbornness ; 't is unmanly grief ; 
 It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, 
 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 vulvar thing to sense, 
 Why should we in our peevish opposition 
 Take it to heart? Fie ! 't is a fault to heaven, 
 A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, 
 To reason most absurd ; whose common theme 
 Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried, 
 From the first corse till he that died to-day, 
 " This must be so." We pray you, throw to earth 
 This unprevailing woe, and think of us 
 As of a father: for let the world take note, 
 You are the most immediate to our throne ; 
 
12 HAMLET. 
 
 And with no less nobility of love 
 
 Than that which dearest father bears his son, 
 
 Do I impart toward you. 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, Ham- 
 let: 
 I pray thee, stay with us ; go not to Wittenberg. 
 
 Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam. 
 
 King. Why, 't is a loving and a fair reply : 
 Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come ; 
 This gentle and unforced 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 all but Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. 0, 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! God ! God ! 
 How r weary, stale, flat and unprofitable 
 Seem to me all the uses of this world ! 
 Fie on 't ! ah, fie ! 'tis an uiweeded 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 w T as, 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. Heaven and earth ! 
 Must I remember ! why, she would hang on him, 
 As if increase of appetite had grown 
 By w T hat it fed on : and yet within a month — 
 Let me not think on 't — Frailty, thy name is 
 
 "woman ! — 
 A little month, or ere those shoes were old 
 
ACT I. — SCENE II. 13 
 
 With which she follow 'd my poor father's body, 
 Like Niobe, all tears:— why she, even she — 
 
 God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, 
 Would have mourn'd longer — married w r ith my 
 
 uncle, 
 My father's brother, but no more like my father 
 That I to Hercules: within a month : 
 Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears 
 Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, 
 She married. 0, most wicked speed ! 
 It is not nor it can not come to good : 
 But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue. 
 
 Enter Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo. 
 
 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 
 ever. 
 
 Ham. Sir, my good friend; I '11 change that name 
 with you : 
 And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? 
 Marcellus ? 
 
 Mar. My good lord — 
 
 Ham. I am very glad to see you. Good even, sir. 
 But w 7 hat, in faith, make you from Wittenberg? 
 
 Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord. 
 
 Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so, 
 Nor shall you do mine ear that violence, 
 To make it truster of your own report 
 Against yourself : I know yon are no truant. 
 But what is your affair in Elsinore ? 
 We '11 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-stu- 
 dent ; 
 
 1 think it w T as to see my mother's wedding. 
 Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon. 
 Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio ! the funeral baked 
 
 meats 
 Did 'coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. 
 
 
14 HAMLET. 
 
 Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven 
 Or ever I had seen that day. Horatio ! 
 My father ! — methinks I see my father. 
 
 Hot. Where, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio. 
 
 Hot. 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. 
 
 Hot. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight. 
 
 Ham. Saw ? who ? 
 
 Hot. My lord, the king your father. 
 
 Ham. The king my father ! 
 
 Hot. Season your admiration for awhile 
 With an attent ear, till I may deliver, 
 Upon the witness of these gentlemen, 
 This marvel to you. 
 
 Ham. For God's love, let me hear. 
 
 Hot. Two nights together had these gentlemen, 
 Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, 
 In the dead vast and middle of the night, 
 Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father, 
 Arm'd ai point exactly, cap-a-pie, 
 Appears before them, and with solemn march 
 Goes slow and stately by them : thrice he walk'd 
 By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes, 
 Within his truncheon's length ; whilst they, dis- 
 
 tlled 
 Almost to jelly with the act of fear, 
 Stand dumb and speak not to him. 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 like. 
 
 Ham. But where was this? 
 
 Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we 
 watch'd. 
 
 Ham. Did you not speak to it ? 
 
 Hot. My lord, I did ; 
 
 But answer made it none : yet once methought 
 
ACT J. — SCENE II. 15 
 
 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 
 
 Ham. 'T is very strange. 
 
 Hor. As I do live, my honor'd lord, 'tis true: 
 And we did think it writ down in our duty 
 To let you know of it. 
 
 Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. 
 
 Hold you the watch to-night ? 
 
 Mar. > 
 
 ry | ^'e do, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Arm'd, say you ? 
 
 \ Arm'd, my lord. 
 Ber. i 
 
 Ham. From top to toe? 
 
 \ Mv lord, from head to foot. 
 
 Ber. ) 
 
 Ham. Then saw you not his face ? 
 
 Hor. O, yes, my Lord ; he wore his beaver up. 
 
 Ham. What, looked he frowningly ? 
 
 Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. 
 
 Ham. Pale or red ? 
 
 Hor. Najr, very pale. 
 
 Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you? 
 
 Hor. Most constantly. 
 
 Ham. I would I had been there. 
 
 Hor. It would have much amazed you. 
 
 Ham. Very like, very like. Stay'd it long? 
 
 Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a 
 
 hundred. 
 
 Mar. 
 
 . Longer, longer 
 Ber. ) 
 
 Hor. Not when I saw 't. 
 
 Ham. His beard was grizzled, — no ? 
 
 Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, 
 A sable silver'd. 
 
 Ham. I will watch to-night ; 
 
 Perchance 't will walk again. 
 
 Hor. I warrant it will. 
 
16 HAMLET. 
 
 Ham. If it assume my noble father's person, 
 I '11 speak to it, though hell itself should gape 
 And bid me hold my peace. I pray y» u all, 
 If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, 
 Let it be tenable 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 you well : 
 Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve, 
 I '11 visit you. 
 
 All. Our duty to your honor. 
 
 Ham. Your loves, as mine to you : farewell. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Hamlet. 
 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 ; foul deeds will rise, 
 Though all the earth o'er whelm them, to men's 
 eyes. [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. A room in Poloniu^ 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 favor, 
 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 ; 
 No more. 
 
 Oph. No more but~so ? 
 
 Laer. Think it no more : 
 
 For nature, crescent, does not grow alone 
 In thews and bulk, but as this temple waxes, 
 The inward service of the mind and soul 
 Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now, 
 And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch 
 The virtue of his will; but you must fear, 
 His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own; 
 
ACT I. — SCENE III. 17 
 
 For he himself is subject to his birth : 
 
 He may not, as unvalued persons do, 
 
 Carve for himself ; for on his choice depends 
 
 The safety and health of this whole state; 
 
 And therefore must his choice be circumscribed 
 
 Unto the voice and yielding of that body 
 
 Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you, 
 
 It fits your wisdom so far to believe it 
 
 As he in his particular act and place 
 
 May give his saying deed ; which is no further 
 
 Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. 
 
 Then weigh what loss your honor may sustain, 
 
 If with two credent ear you list his songs, 
 
 Or lose your heart, 
 
 Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister, 
 
 And keep you in the rear of your affection, ' 
 
 Out of the shot and danger of desire. 
 
 The chariest maid is j^odigal enough, 
 
 If she unmask her beauty to the moon : 
 
 Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes : 
 
 The canker galls the infants of the spring, 
 
 Too oft before their buttons be disclosed, 
 
 And in the morn and liquid dew of youth 
 
 Contagious blastments are most imminent. 
 
 Be wary then ; best safety lies in fear ; 
 
 Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. 
 
 Oph. I shall the effect of this good lesson keep, 
 As watchman to my heart. But good, my brother, 
 Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, 
 Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven : 
 "Whiles yet 
 
 Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, 
 And recks not his own rede. 
 
 Laer. 0, fear me not. 
 
 I stay too long : but here my father comes. 
 
 Enter Poloxius. 
 
 A double blessing is a double grace ; 
 Occasion smiles upon a second leave. 
 Pol. Yet here, Laertes! aboard! aboard, for 
 shame ! 
 
18 HAMLET. 
 
 The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, 
 
 And you are stay'd for. There ; my blessing with 
 
 thee! 
 And these few precepts in thy memory 
 See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, 
 Nor any unproportional thought his act. 
 Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. 
 Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 
 Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel: 
 But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 
 Of each new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade. Beware 
 Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, 
 Bear 't' that the opposer may beware of thee. 
 Give every man thy 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, not gaudy ; 
 For the apparel oft proclaims ti\e man, 
 And they in France of the best rank and station 
 Are most select and generous in that. 
 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 own self 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., 'T is in my memory lock'd, 
 
 And you yourself shall keep the key of it. 
 
 Laer. Farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he liath sa'd to you? 
 
 Oph. So please you, something touching the lord 
 Hamlet. 
 
 Pol. Marry, well bethought : 
 'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late 
 Given private time to you ; and you yourself 
 
ACT I. — SCENE III. 19 
 
 Have of your audience been most free and bounte- 
 ous : 
 If it be so, as so 'tis put on me, 
 And that in way of caution, I must tell you, 
 You do not understand yourself so clearly 
 As it behooves my daughter and your honor. 
 What is between you ? give me up the truth. 
 
 Oph. He hath, my lord, of late made many ten- 
 ders 
 Of his affection to me. 
 
 Pol. Affection ! pooh! you speak like a green girl, 
 Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. 
 Do you believe his tenders, as you call them? 
 
 Oph. I do not know, my lord, what I should think. 
 
 Pol. Marry, I '11 teach you : think yourself a baby ; 
 That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay, 
 Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more 
 
 dearly ; 
 Or — not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, 
 Running it thus — you '11 tender me a fool. 
 
 Oph. My lord, he hath importuned me with love 
 In honorable fashion. 
 
 Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it ; go to, go to. 
 
 Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech, 
 my lord, 
 With almost all the holy vows of heaven. 
 
 Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know, 
 When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul 
 Lends the tongue vows : these blazes, daughter, 
 Giving more light than heat, extinct in both, 
 Even in their promise, as it is a-making, 
 You must not take for fire. From this time 
 Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence ; 
 Set your entrfatments at a higher rate 
 Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet, 
 Believe so much in 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. 
 
 I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth, 
 Have you so slander any moment's leisure, 
 
20 HAMLET. 
 
 As to give words or talk with the lord Hamlet. 
 Look to 't, I charge you : come your ways. 
 
 Oph. I shall obey, my lord. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. The platform. 
 Enter Hamlet, Horatio and Marcellus. 
 
 Ham. The air bites shrewdly ; it is very cold. 
 
 Hot. It is a nipping and an eager air. 
 
 Ham. What hour now ? 
 
 Hor. I think it lacks of twelve. 
 
 Ham. No, it is struck. 
 
 Hor. Indeed ? I heard it not ; tben it draws near 
 the season 
 Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. 
 
 [A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot off, 
 
 within. 
 What does this mean, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. The king doth wake to-night, and takes his 
 rouse, 
 Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels ; 
 And, as he drains his draughts of Khenish down, 
 The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out 
 The triumph of his pledge. 
 
 Hor. Is it a custom ? 
 
 Ham. Ay, marry, is 't : 
 But to my mind, though I am native here 
 And to the manner b rn, it is a custom 
 More honor'd in the breach than the observance. 
 This heavy-headed revel east and west 
 Makes us traduced and tax'd of other nations : 
 They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase 
 .Soil our addition ; and indeed it takes 
 From our achievements, though perform'd at height, 
 The pith and marrow of our attribute. 
 So, oft it chances in particular men, 
 That for some vicious mole of nature in them, 
 As, in their birth — wherein they are not guilty, 
 Since nature can not choose his origin — 
 By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, 
 Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, 
 Or, by some habit that too much o'er-leavens 
 
ACT I — SCENE IV. 21 
 
 The form of plansive manners, that these men, 
 Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, 
 Being nature's liverv, or fortune's star, — 
 Their virtues else — be they as pure as grace, 
 As infinite as man may undergo — 
 Shall in the general censure take corruption 
 From that particular fault: the dram of evil 
 Doth all the noble substance often clout 
 To his own scandal. 
 Hor. Look, my lord, it comes ! 
 
 Enter Ghost. 
 
 [ Ham. Angels and ministeis of grace defend us ! 
 Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd, 
 Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell r 
 Be thy intents wicked or charitable, 
 Thou com est in such a questionable shape 
 That I will speak to thee : I '11 call thee Hamlet, 
 King, father, royal Dane : O, answer me ! 
 Let me not burst in ignorance ; but tell 
 Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death, 
 Have burst their cerements ; why the sepulcher, 
 Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, 
 Hath oped 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? wherefore? what should we do? 
 
 [Ghost beckons Hamlet. 
 
 Hor. It beckons you to go away with it, 
 As if it some impartment did desire 
 To you alone. 
 
 Mar. Look, with what courteous action 
 It waves you to a more removed ground : 
 But do not go with it. 
 
 Hor. No, by no means. 
 
 Ham. It will not speak ; then I will follow it. 
 
 Hor. Do not, my lord. 
 
22 HAMLET. 
 
 Ham. Why, what should be the fear? 
 
 I do not set my life at a pin's fee ; 
 And for my soul, what can it do to that, 
 Being a thing immortal as itself? 
 It waves me forth again: I '11 follow it. 
 
 Hor. What if it tempt you toward the flood, my 
 lord, 
 Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff 
 That beetles o'er his base into the sea, 
 And there assume some other horrible form, 
 Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason 
 And draw you into madness? think of it; 
 The very place puts toys of desperation, 
 Without more motive, into every brain 
 That looks so many fathoms to the sea, 
 And hears it roar beneath. 
 
 Ham. It waves me still. 
 
 Go on ; I '11 follow thee. 
 
 Mar. You shall not go, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Hold off your hands. 
 
 Hor. Be ruled; you shall not go. 
 
 Ham. My fate cries out, 
 
 And makes each petty artery in this body 
 As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. 
 Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen. 
 By heaven, I '11 make a ghost of him that lets me ! 
 I say, away ! Go on: I '11 follow thee. 
 
 . [Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet. 
 
 Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination. 
 
 Mar. Let's follow ; 'tis not fit thus to obey him. 
 
 Hor. Have after. To what issue will this come ? 
 
 Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. 
 
 Hor. Heaven will direct it. 
 
 Mar. Nay, let 's follow him. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene Y. Another part of 'the platform. 
 Enter Ghost and Hamlet. 
 Ham. W r here wilt thou lead me ? speak ; I '11 go 
 
 no farther. 
 Ghost. Mark me. 
 Ham. I will. 
 
ACT I. — SCENE V. .23 
 
 Ghost. My hour is almost come, 
 
 When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames 
 Must render up myself. 
 
 Ham. Alas, poor ghost ! 
 
 Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing 
 To what I shall unfold. 
 
 Ham. Speak ; I am bound to hear. 
 
 Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt 
 hear. 
 
 Ham. What? 
 
 Ghost. I am thy father's spirit, 
 Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, 
 And for the day confined to fast in fires, 
 Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature 
 Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid 
 To tell the secrets of my prison-house, 
 I could a tale unfold whose lightest word 
 Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, 
 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 porpentine : 
 But this eternal blazon must not be 
 To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, 0, list! 
 If thou didst ever thy dear father love — 
 
 Ham. God ! 
 
 Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural mur- 
 der. 
 
 Ham. Murder ! 
 
 Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is ; 
 But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. 
 
 Ham. Haste me to know 't, 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 roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, 
 Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear : 
 'T is given out that, sleeping in mine orchard, 
 
24 HAMLET. 
 
 A serpent stung me ; so the whole ear of Denmark 
 Is by a forged process of my death 
 Rankly abused ; but know, thou noble youth, 
 The serpent that did sting thy father's life 
 Now wears his crown. 
 
 Ham. O my prophetic soul ! 
 
 My uncle ! 
 
 Ghost. Ay, that beast, 
 With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts, — 
 O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power 
 So to seduce ! — won to his shameful suit 
 The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen : 
 
 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 
 
 1 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 air; 
 Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard, 
 My custom always of the afternoon, 
 Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, 
 With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial 
 And in the porches of my ears did pour 
 The leperous distilment ; whose effect 
 Holds such an enmity with blood of man 
 That swift as quicksilver it courses through 
 The natural gates and alleys of the body, 
 And with a sudden vigor it doth posset 
 And curd, like eager droppings into milk, 
 The thin and wholesome blood : so did it mine ; 
 And a most instant tetter bark'd about, 
 Most lazar-like, 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 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. 
 Ham. 0, horrible ! O, horrible ! most horrible ! 
 
ACT I. — SCENE V. 25 
 
 Ghost. If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not; 
 But, howsoever thou pursuest 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. [Exit. 
 
 Ham. all you host of heaven ! O earth ! what 
 else? 
 And shall I couple hell? O, fie ! Hold, hold my 
 
 heart; 
 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 '11 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, by heaven! 
 most pernicious woman ! 
 
 villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! 
 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 : 
 
 [ Writing. 
 So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word ; 
 It is "Adieu, adieu! remember me." 
 
 1 have sworn 't. 
 Mar. 
 Hor. 
 
 Mar. [Within'] Lord Hamlet, — 
 
 Hor. [Within] Heaven secure him ! 
 
 Ham. So be it ! 
 
 Hor. [Within] Hillo, ho, ho, my lord ! 
 Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come. 
 
 i[T i T&taw] My lord, my lord,- 
 
26 HAMLET. 
 
 Enter Horatio and Marcellus. 
 
 Mar. How is 't, my noble lord ? 
 
 Hor. What news, my lord? 
 
 Ham. 0, wonderful! 
 
 Hor. Good my lord, tell it. 
 
 Ham. No ; you '11 reveal it. 
 
 Hor. Not I, my lord, by heaven. 
 
 Mar. Nor I, my lord. 
 
 Ham. How say you, then ; would heart of man 
 
 once think it? 
 
 But you '11 be secret ? 
 
 Hor ^ 
 
 ' y ' Av, by heaven, my lord. 
 
 Mar. ) 
 
 Ham. There 's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Den- 
 mark 
 But he 's an arrant knave. 
 
 Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from 
 the grave 
 To tell us this. 
 
 Ham. Why, right ; you are i' the right ; 
 
 And so, without more circumstance at all, 
 I hold it fit that we shake hands and part : 
 You, as your busiuess and desire shall point you ; 
 For every man has business and desire, 
 Such as it is ; and for mine own poor part, 
 Look you, I '11 go pray. 
 
 Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my lord. 
 
 Ham. I 'm sorry they offend you, heartily ; 
 Yes, 'faith, heartily. 
 
 Hor. There 's no offense, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Yes, by Samt 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 desire to 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. 
 
 Hor. What is 't, my lord ? we will. 
 
 Ham. Never make known what you have seen to- 
 night. 
 
ACT I. — SCENE V. 27 
 
 Hor ' \ My lord, we will not. 
 J/ar. J 
 
 Ham. Nay, but swear 't. 
 
 .Hor. In faith, 
 
 My lord, not I. 
 
 Mar. Nor I, my lord, in faith. 
 
 Ham. Upon my sword. 
 
 Mar. We have sworn, my lord, already. 
 
 Ham. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. 
 
 Ghost. [Beneath] Swear. 
 
 Ham. Ah, ha, boy! say'st thou so? Art thou 
 there, truepenny ? 
 Come on — you hear this fellow in the cellarage- 
 Consent to swear. 
 
 Hor. Propose the oath, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Never to speak of this that you have seen, 
 Swear by my swcrd. 
 
 Ghost. [Beneath'] Swear. 
 
 Ham. Hie et ubique? then we '11 shift our ground. 
 Come hither, gentlemen, 
 And lay your hands again upon my sword : 
 Never to speak of this that you have heard, 
 Swear by my sword. 
 
 Ghost. [Beneath] Swear. 
 
 Ham. Weil said, old mole ! canst work i' the earth 
 so fast ? 
 A worthy pioneer ! Once more remove, good friends. 
 
 Hor. day and night, but this is wondrous 
 strange ! 
 
 Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. 
 There are more things in heaven and earth, Hora- 
 tio, 
 Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. 
 But come ; 
 
 Here, as before, never, so help you mercy, 
 How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself, 
 As I perchance hereafter shall think meet 
 To put an antic disposition on, 
 That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, 
 With arms enenmber'd thus, or this head-shake, 
 Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, 
 
28 HAMLET. 
 
 As "Well, 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 ambiguous giving out, to note 
 That you know aught of me : this not to do, 
 So grace and mercy at your most need help you, 
 Swear. 
 
 Ghost. [Beneath] Swear. 
 
 Ham. Rest, rest, perturb3d spirit! [They swear.'] 
 
 So, gentlemen, 
 With all my love I do commend me to you ; 
 And what so poor a man as Hamlet is 
 May do, to express his love and friending to you, 
 God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together ; 
 And still your fingers on your iips, I pray. 
 The time is out of joint: cursed spite, 
 That ever I was born to set it right ! 
 Nay, come, let's go together. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. A room in Polonius' house. 
 Enter Polonius and Reynaldo. 
 Pol. Give him this money and these notes, Rey- 
 naldo. 
 Bey. I will, my lord. 
 
 Pol. You shall do marvellous wisely, good Rey- 
 naldo, 
 Before you visit him, to make inquire 
 Of his behavior. 
 
 Rey. My lord, I did intend it. 
 
 Pol. Marry, well said ; very well said. Look you, 
 sir, 
 Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; 
 An i how, and who, what means, and where they 
 
 keep, 
 What company, at what expense ; and finding 
 By this encompassment and drift of question 
 That they do know my son, come you more neare" 
 Than your particular demands will touch it : 
 
ACT IT. — SCENE I. 29 
 
 Take you, as 't were, some distant knowledge of him ; 
 As thus, ' I know his father and his friends, 
 And in part him :' do you mark this, Reynaldo ? 
 
 Rey. Ay, very well, my lord. 
 
 Pol. 'And in part him; but' you may say 'not 
 well : 
 But, if-'t be he I mean, he is very wild ; 
 Addicted so and so:' and there put on him 
 What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank 
 As may dishonor him ; take heed of that ; 
 But, sir, such wanton, wild and usual slips 
 As are companions noted and most known 
 To youth and liberty. 
 
 Rey. As gaming, my lord. 
 
 Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrel- 
 ing, 
 You may go so far. 
 
 Rey. My lord, that would dishonor him. 
 
 Pol. 'Faith, no; as you may season it in the 
 charge. 
 But breathe his faults so quaintly, 
 That they may seem the taints of liberty, 
 The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind, 
 A savageness in unreclaimed blood, 
 Of general assault. 
 
 Rey. But, my good lord, — 
 
 Pol. Wherefore should you do this ? 
 
 Rey. Ay, my lord, 
 
 I would know that. 
 
 Pol. Marry, sir, here 's my drift ; 
 
 And, I believe, it is a fetch of wit : 
 You laying these slight sullies on my son, 
 As 't were a thing a little soil'd i' the working, 
 Mark you, 
 
 Your party in converse, him you would sound, 
 Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes 
 The youth you breathe of guilty, be assured 
 He closes with you in this consequence ; 
 ' Good sir,' or so, 'friend,' or ' gentleman,' 
 According to the phrase or the addition 
 Of man and country. 
 
30 HAMLET. 
 
 Rey. Very good, my lord. 
 
 Pol. And then, sir, does he this — he does— what 
 was I about to say? By the mass, I was about to 
 say something: where did I leave? 
 
 Rey. At 'closes in the consequence,' at 'friend 
 or so,' and 'gentleman.' 
 
 Pol. At ' closes in the consequence,' ay, marry ; 
 He closes thus : ' I know the gentleman : 
 I saw him yesterday, or t' other day, 
 Or then, or then ; with such, or such ; and as you say, 
 There was a' gaming ; there o'ertook in 's rouse ; 
 There falling out at tennis ;' 
 See you now ; 
 
 Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth ; 
 And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, 
 With windlasses and with assays of bias, 
 By indirections find directions out : 
 So by my former lecture and advice, 
 Shall you, my son. You have me, have you not? 
 
 Rey. My lord, I have. 
 
 Pol. God b' wi' you ; fare you well. 
 
 Rey. Good, my lord ! 
 
 Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself. 
 
 Rey. I shall my lord. 
 
 Pol. And let him ply his music. 
 
 Rey. Well, my lord. 
 
 Pol. Farewell ! \_Eorit Reynaldo. 
 
 Enter Ophelia. 
 
 How now, Ophelia! what's the matter? 
 
 Oph. Oh, my lord, my lord, I have been so af- 
 frighted ? 
 
 Pol. With what, i' the name of God? 
 
 Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, 
 Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced ; 
 No hat upon his head ; his stockings foul'd, 
 Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ankle; 
 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 roe. 
 
ACT II. — SCEXE I. 31 
 
 Pol. Mad for thy love ? 
 
 Oph. My lord, I do not know ; 
 
 But truly, I do fear it. 
 
 Pol. What said he ? 
 
 Oph. He took me by the wrist and held me hard ; 
 Then goes he to the length of all his arm ; 
 And with his other hand thus o'er his brow, 
 He falls to such perusal of my 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 
 As 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 seemed to find his way without his eyes ; 
 For out o' doors he went without their helps, 
 And, to the last, bended their light on me. 
 
 Pol. Come, go with me : I will go seek the king. 
 This is the very ecstasy of love, 
 Whose violent property fordoes itself 
 And leads the will to desperate undertakings* 
 As oft as any passion under 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 command, 
 I did repel his letters and denied 
 His access to me. 
 
 Pol. That hath made him mad. 
 
 I am sorry that with better heed and judgment 
 I had not quoted him : I fear'd he did but trifle, 
 But, beshrew my jealousy ! 
 By heaven, it is as proper to our age 
 To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions 
 As it is common for the younger sort 
 To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king : 
 This must be known ; which, being kept close, might 
 
 move 
 More grief to hide than hate to utter love. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
32 HAMLET. 
 
 Scene II. A room in the castle. 
 
 Enter King, Queen, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, 
 and Attendants. 
 
 King. Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guilden- 
 stern ! 
 Moreover that we much did long to see you, 
 The need we have to use you did provoke 
 Our hasty sending. Something have you heard 
 Of Hamlet's transformation ; so call it, 
 Sith nor the exterior nor the inward man 
 Resembles that it was. What it should be, 
 More than his father's death, that thus hath put 
 
 him 
 So much from the understanding of himself, 
 I can not dream of : I entreat you both, 
 That, being of so young days brought up with him, 
 And sith so neighbor'd to his youth and 'havior, 
 That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court 
 Some little time : so by your companies 
 To draw him on to pleasure, and to gather, 
 So much as from occasion you may glean, 
 Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus, 
 That, open'd, lies within our remedy. 
 
 Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of 
 you: 
 And sure I am two men there are not living 
 To whom he more adheres. If it will please you 
 To show us so much gentry and good will 
 As to expend your time with us awhile, 
 For the supply and profit of our hope, 
 Your visitation shall receive such thanks 
 As fits a king's remembrance. 
 
 Ros. Both your majesties 
 
 Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, 
 Put your dread pleasures more into command 
 Than to entreaty. 
 
 Guil. But we both obey, 
 
 And here give up ourselves, in the full bent 
 To lay our service freely at your feet, 
 To be commanded. 
 
ACT II. — SCENE II. 33 
 
 King. Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guilden- 
 
 stern. 
 Queen. Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosen- 
 crantz : 
 And I beseech yon instantly to visit 
 My too much changed son. Go, some of you, 
 And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is. 
 
 Guil. Heaven make our presence ?nd our prac- 
 tices 
 Pleasant and helpful to him ! 
 
 Queen. Ay, amen ! 
 
 [Exeunt Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and some 
 
 Attendants. 
 
 Enter Poionius. 
 
 ■ Pol. The ambassadors from Norway, my good lord, 
 Are joyfully return'd. 
 
 King. Thou still hast been the father of good news. 
 
 Pol. Have I, my lord? I assure my good liege, 
 I hold my duty, as I hold my soul, 
 Both to my God and to my gracious king: 
 And I do think, or else this brain of mine 
 Hunts not the trail of policy so sure 
 As it hath used to do, that I have found 
 The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy. 
 
 King. 0, speak of that ; that do I long to hear. 
 
 Pol. Give first admittance to the ambassadors ; 
 My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. 
 
 King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them 
 in. [Exit Poionius. 
 
 He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found 
 The head and source of all your son's distemper. 
 
 Queen. I doubt it is no other but the main ; 
 His father's death, and our o'erhasty marriage. 
 
 King. Well, we shall silt him. 
 
 Re-enter Polonius, with Voltimand and Cornelius. 
 
 Welcome, my good friends ! 
 Say, Voltirnand, what from our brother Norway? 
 Volt. Most fair return of greetings and desires. 
 Upon our first, he sent out to suppress 
 
34 HAMLET. 
 
 His nephew's levies ; which to him appear'd 
 To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack ; 
 But, better look'd into, he truly found 
 It was against your highness : whereat grieved, 
 That so his sickness, age and impotence 
 Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests 
 On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys; 
 Receives rebuke from Norway, and in fine 
 Makes vow before his uncle never more 
 To give the assay of arms against your majesty. 
 Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy, 
 Gives him thiee thousand crowns in annual fee, 
 And his commission to employ those soldiers, 
 So levied as before, against the Polack : 
 With an entreaty, herein further shown, 
 
 [ Giving a paper. 
 
 That it might please you to give quiet pass 
 Through your dominions for this enterprise, 
 On such regards of safety and allowance 
 As therein are set down. 
 
 King. It likes us well ; 
 
 And at our more consider'd time we '11 read, 
 Answer, and think upon this business. 
 Meantime we thank you for your well-took labor: 
 Go to your rest ; at night we '11 feast together: 
 Most welcome home ! 
 
 [Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius. 
 p l This business is well ended. 
 
 My liege, and madam, to expostulate 
 What majesty should be, what duty is, 
 Why day is day, night night, and time is time, 
 Were nothing but to waste night, day and time. 
 Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, 
 And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, 
 I will be brief : your noble son is mad : 
 Mad call I it ; for, to define true madness, 
 What is 't but to be nothing else but mad ? 
 But let that go. 
 
 Queen. More matter, with less art. 
 
 Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art, at all. 
 That he is mad, 't is true : 't is true 't is pity ; 
 
ACT II. — SCENE II. 35 
 
 And pity 't is 't is true ; a foolish figure ; 
 
 But farewell it, for I will use no art. 
 
 Mad let us grant him, then : and now remains 
 
 That we find out the cause of this effect, 
 
 Or rather say, the cause of this defect, 
 
 For this effect defective co i es by cause : 
 
 Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. 
 
 Perpend. 
 
 I have a daughter — have while she is mine — 
 
 Who, in her duty and obedience, mark, 
 
 Hath given me this : now, gather, and surmise. 
 
 [Re'.ds. 
 1 To the celestial and my soul's idol, the most beau- 
 tified Ophelia,' — 
 That 's an ill phrase, a vile phrase ; ' beautified ' is a 
 vile phrase ; but you shall hear. Thus: — 
 Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her ? 
 Pol. Good madam, stay awhile: I will be faithful. 
 
 [Reads. 
 ' Doubt thou the stars are fire : 
 
 Doubt that the sun doth move ; 
 Doubt truth to be a liar ; 
 But never doubt I love. 
 ' dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers ; I have 
 not art to reckon my groans : but that I love thee best, 
 O most best, believe it. Adieu. 
 
 ' Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this 
 machine is to him, Hamlet.' 
 This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me, 
 And more above, hath his solicitings, 
 As they fell out by time, by means and place, 
 All given to mine ear. 
 
 King. But how hath she 
 
 Received his love ? 
 
 Pol. What do you think of me ? 
 
 King. As of a man faithful and honorable. 
 Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might you 
 think, 
 When I had seen this hot love on the wing- 
 As I perceived it, I must tell you that, 
 Before my daughter told me — what might you, 
 
36 HAMLET. 
 
 Or my dear majesty your queen here, think, 
 
 If I had play'd the desk or table-book, 
 
 Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb, 
 
 Or look'd upon this love with idle sight ; 
 
 What might you think ? No, I went round to work, 
 
 And my young mistress thus I did bespeak : 
 
 ' Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star : 
 
 This must not be:' and then I precepts gave her, 
 
 That she should lock herself from his resort, % 
 
 Admit no messengers, receive no tokens. 
 
 Which done, she took the fruits of my advice ; 
 
 And he, repulsed — a short tale to make — 
 
 Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, 
 
 Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, 
 
 Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension, 
 
 Into the madness wherein now he raves, 
 
 And all we mourn for. 
 
 King. Do you think 'tis this? 
 
 Queen. It may be, very likely. 
 
 Pol. Hath there been such a time— I 'd fain know 
 that — 
 That I have positively said ' 'Tis so,' 
 When it proved otherwise ? 
 
 King. Not that I know. 
 
 Pol. [Pointing to his head and shoulder'] Take this 
 from this, if this be otherwise : 
 If circumstances lead me, I will find 
 Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed 
 Within the center. 
 
 King. How may we try it further? 
 
 Pol. You know, sometimes he walks four hours 
 together 
 Here in the lobby. 
 
 Queen. So he does indeed. 
 
 Pol. At such a time I '11 loose my daughter to him ; 
 Be you and I behind an arras then ; 
 Mark the encounter : if he love her not 
 And be not from his reason fall'n thereon, 
 Let me be no assistant for a state, 
 But keep a farm and carters. 
 
 King. We will try it. 
 
ACT II. — SCENE ir. 37 
 
 Queen. But, look, where sadly the poor wretch 
 
 comes reading. 
 Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away : 
 I '11 board him presently. 
 
 [Exeunt Kin<j, Queen, and Attendant*. 
 
 Enter Hamlet, reading. 
 
 0, give me leave : 
 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! 
 
 Ham. Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is 
 to be one man picked out of ten thousand. 
 
 Pol. That 's very true, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Have you a daughter? 
 
 Pol. I have, my lord, 
 
 Ham. Let her not walk i' the sun. Friend, look 
 to 't. 
 
 Pol. [Aside] How say you by that ? Still 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 rogue says 
 here that old men have gray beards, that their faces 
 are wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber and 
 plum tree gum, and that they have a plentiful lack 
 of wit, together with most weak hams: all which, 
 sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, 
 yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down ; 
 for yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if like a crab 
 you could go backward. 
 
38 HAMLET. 
 
 Pol. [Aside'] Though this be madness, yet there is 
 method in 't. Will you walk out of the air, my 
 lord? 
 
 Ham. Into my grave ? 
 
 Pol. Indeed, that is out o' the air. [Aside] How 
 pregnant sometimes his replies are ! a happiness 
 that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity 
 could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will 
 leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of 
 meeting between him and my daughter.— My hon- 
 orable lord, I w r ill most humbly take my leave of you. 
 
 Ham. You can not, sir, take from me anything 
 that I will more willingly part withal : except my 
 life, except my life, except my life. 
 
 Pol. Fare you well, my lord. 
 
 Ham. These tedious old fools ! 
 
 Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. 
 
 Pol. You go to seek the lord Hamlet ; there he is. 
 
 Ros. [To Polonius] God save you, sir ! 
 
 [Exit Polonius. 
 
 Guil. My honored lord ! 
 
 Eos. My most dear lord ! 
 
 Ham. My excellent good friends ! How dost thou, 
 Guildenstern ? Ah, Rosencrantz ! Good lads, how 
 do ye both ? 
 
 Eos. As the indifferent children of the earth. 
 
 Guil, Ha£>py, in that we are not over happy ; 
 On fortune's cap we are not the very button. 
 
 Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe ? What 's the 
 news? 
 
 Ros. None, my lord, but that the world's grown 
 honest. 
 
 Ham. Then is doomsday near : but your news is 
 not true. Let me question more in particular : what 
 have you, my good friends, deseived 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 
 
ACT II. — SCENE II. 39 
 
 confines, wards and dungeons, Denmark being one o' 
 the worst. 
 
 Eos. We think not so, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Why, then, 'tis none to > ou : for there is 
 nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it 
 bo : to me it is a prison. 
 
 Eos. Why then, your ambition makes it one ; 't is 
 too narrow for your mind. 
 
 Ham. God, I could be bounded in a nutshell 
 and count myself a king of infinite space, were it 
 not that I have bad dreams. 
 
 Guil. Which dreams indeed are ambition, for the 
 very substance of the ambitious is merely the 
 shadow of a dream. 
 
 Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow. 
 
 Eos. Truly, and 1 hold ambition of so airy and 
 light a quality that it is but a shadow's shadow. 
 
 Ham. Then are our beggars bodies, and our mon- 
 arch s and outstretched heroes the beggars' shadows. 
 Shall we to the court? for, by my fay, I can not 
 reason. 
 
 s * I We'll wait upon you. 
 Guil. > 
 
 Ham. No such matter; I will not sort you with 
 the rest of my servants, for, to speak to you like an 
 honest man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, 
 in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at 
 El sin ore? 
 
 Eos. To visit you, my lord • no other occasion. 
 
 Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks ; 
 but I thank you : and sure, dear friends, my thanks 
 are too dear a half-penny. Were you not sent for? 
 Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? 
 Come, deal justly with me. come, come; nay, 
 speak. 
 
 Guil. What should we say, my lord? 
 
 Ham. Why, anything, but to the purpose. You 
 were sent for; and there is a kind of confession in 
 your looks which your modesties have not craft 
 enough to color : I know the good king and queen 
 have sent for you. 
 
40 HAM LET. 
 
 Ros. To what end, my lord? 
 
 Ham. That you must teach me. But let me con- 
 jure you, by the rights of our fellowship, by the 
 consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our 
 ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a better 
 proposer could charge you withal, be even and 
 direct with me, whether you were sent for, or no? 
 
 Ros. [Aside to Guil.~] What say you ? 
 
 Ham. [Aside'] Nay, then I have an eye of you. — 
 If you love me, hold not off. 
 
 Guil. My lord, we were sent for. 
 
 Ham. I will tell you why ; so shall my anticipa- 
 tion prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the 
 king and queen moult no feather. I have of late — 
 but wherefore I know not — lost all my mirth, for- 
 gone 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 firmament, this majestical roof fretted 
 with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to 
 me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors. 
 What a piece of work is a man ! how noble in rea- 
 son ! 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 nay 
 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 coining, to offer you service. 
 
 Ham. He that plays the king shall be welcome ; 
 his majesty shall have tribute of me; the adventu- 
 rous knight shall use his foil and target; the lover 
 
ACT II. — SCENE II. 41 
 
 shall not sigh gratis ; the humorous man shall end 
 his part in peace ; the clown shall make those laugh 
 whose lungs are tickle o' the Sf>re ; 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. 
 
 Ham. How chances it they travel ? their residence, 
 both in reputation and profit, was better both ways. 
 
 Ros. I think their innovation comes by the means 
 of the late inhibition. 
 
 Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did 
 when I was in the city ? are they so followed ? 
 
 Ros. No, indeed, are they not. 
 
 Ham. How comes it? do they grow rusty? 
 
 Ros. Na} 7 , their endeavor keeps in the wonted 
 pace : but there is, sir, an aery of children, little 
 eyases, that cry out on the top of question, and are 
 most tyrannically clapped for't: these are now 
 the fashion, and so berattle the common stages — so 
 they call them — that many wearing rapiers are afraid 
 of goose-quills and dare scarce come thither. 
 
 Ham. What, are they children? who maintains 
 'em? how are they escoted? Will they pursue the 
 quality no longer than they can sing? will they not 
 say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to 
 common players — as it is most like, if their means 
 are no better — their writers do them wrong, to make 
 them exclaim against their own succession ? 
 
 Ros. 'Faith, there has been much to do on both 
 sides ; and the nation holds it no sin to tarre them 
 to controversy : there was, for a while, no money bid 
 for argument, unless the poet and player went to 
 cuffs in the question. 
 
 Ham. Is 't possible ? 
 
 Guil 0, there has been much throwing about of 
 brains. 
 
 Ham. Do the boys carry it away ? 
 
 Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord ; Hercules and his 
 load, too. 
 
 Ham. It is not very strange ; for mine uncle is 
 
42 HAMLET. 
 
 king of Denmark, and those that would make mows 
 at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, 
 fifty, an hundred ducats apiece for his picture in 
 little. 'Sblood, there is something in this more 
 than natural, if philosophy could find it out. 
 
 [Flourish of trumpets within. 
 
 Guil. There are the players. • 
 
 Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. 
 Your hands, come then : the appurtenance of wel- 
 come is fashion and ceremony : let me comply with 
 you in this garb, lest my extent to the players, 
 which, I tell you, must show fairly outward, should 
 more appear like entertainment than yours. You 
 are welcome ; but my uncle-father and aunt-mother 
 are deceived. 
 
 Guil. In what, my dear lord? 
 
 Ham. I am but mad north-north-west : when the 
 wind is southerly I know a hawk from a hand saw. 
 
 Enter Polonius. 
 
 Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen ! 
 
 Ham. Hark you, Gnildenstern ; and you too: at 
 each ear a hearer : that great baby j^ou see there is 
 not yet out of his swaddling clouts. 
 
 Ros. Happily he 's the second time come to them ; 
 for they say an old man is twice a child. 
 • Ham. I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the 
 players ; mark it. You say right, sir : 0, Monday 
 morning; 't was so, indeed. 
 
 Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you. 
 
 Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you. When 
 Roscius was an actor in Rome, — 
 
 Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord. 
 
 Ham Buz, buz ! 
 
 Pol. Upon mine honor, — 
 
 Ham. Then came each actor on his ass, — 
 
 Pol. The best actors in the world, either for 
 tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, 
 historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-com- 
 ical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem 
 unlimited : Seneca can not be too heavy, nor Plautus 
 
ACT II. — SCENE II. 43 
 
 too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these 
 are the only men. 
 
 Ham. Jephthah, juoge of Israel, what a treasure 
 hadst thou ! 
 
 Pol. What treasure had he, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. Why, 
 
 ' One fair daughter, and no more, 
 The which he loved passing well.' 
 
 Pol. [Aside] Still on my daughter. 
 
 Ham. Ami not i' the right, old Jephthah ? 
 
 Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a 
 daughter that I love passing- well. 
 
 Ham. Nay, that follows not. 
 
 Pol. What follows then, my lord? 
 
 Ham. Why, 
 
 'As by lot, God wot,' 
 and then, you know, 
 
 ' It came to pass, as most like it was,' — 
 the first row of the pious chanson will show you 
 more, for look, where my abridgment comes. 
 
 Eider four or five Players. 
 
 You are welcome, masters ; welcome, all. I am glad 
 to see thee well. Welcome, good friends. 0, my 
 old friend; thy face is valanced since I saw thee 
 last : comest thou to beard me in Denmark? What, 
 my young lady and mistress ! By 'r lady, your lady- 
 ship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last, by 
 the altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, 
 like a piece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within 
 the ring. Masters, you are all welcome. We '11 e'en 
 to't like French falconers, fly at anything we see: 
 we '11 have a speech straight : come, give us a taste 
 of your quality ; come, a passionate speech. 
 
 First Play. What speech, my lord? 
 
 Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it 
 was never acted ; or, if it was, not above once ; for 
 the play, I remember, pleased not the million ; 
 't was caviare to the general : but it was— as I re- 
 ceived it, and others, whose judgments in such mat- 
 ters cried in the top of mine— an excellent play, 
 
44 HAMLET. 
 
 well digested in the scenes, set down with as much 
 modesty as cunning. I remember, one said there 
 were no sallets in the lines to make ihe matter 
 savory, nor no matter in the phrase that might in- 
 dict the author of affectation; but called it an honest 
 method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much 
 more handsome than fine. One speech in it I 
 chiefly loved: 'twas .Eneas's tale to Dido; and 
 thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of 
 Priam's slaughter; if it live in your memory, begin 
 at this line : let me see, let me see — 
 ' The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast,' — 
 it is not so : — it begins with Pyrrhus : — 
 ' The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms, 
 Black as his purpose, did the night resemble 
 When he lay couched in the ominous horse, 
 Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd 
 With heraldry more dismal ; head to foot 
 Now is he total gules ; horridly trick'd 
 With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons. 
 Baked and impasted with the parching streets, 
 That lend a tyrannous and damned light 
 To their lord's murder ; roasted in wrath and fire, 
 And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore, 
 With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus 
 Old grandsire Priam seeks.' 
 So, proceed you. 
 
 Pol. 'Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good 
 accent and good discretion. 
 
 First Play. 'Anon he finds him 
 
 Striking too short at Greeks ; his antique sword, 
 Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls, 
 Repugnant to command; unequal match'd, 
 Pyrrhus at Priam drives ; in rage strikes w r ide ; 
 But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword 
 The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium, 
 Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top 
 Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash 
 Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear: for, lo ! his sword, 
 Which was declining on the milky head 
 Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick : 
 
ACT II. — SCENE II. 45 
 
 So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood, 
 
 And like a neutral to his will and matter, 
 
 Did nothing. 
 
 But, as we often see, against some storm, 
 
 A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still, 
 
 The bold winds speechless, and the orb below 
 
 As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder 
 
 Doth rend the region, so, after Pyrrhus' pause, 
 
 Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work ; 
 
 And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall 
 
 On Mars's armor forged for proof eterne 
 
 With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword 
 
 Now falls on Priam. 
 
 Out, out, thou fickle, Fortune ! All you gods, 
 
 In general synod, take away her power; 
 
 Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel, 
 
 And bowl the round nave down the hill of 
 
 he iven, 
 As low as to the fiends ! 
 Pol. This is too long. 
 Ham. It shall to the barber's, with your beard. 
 
 Prithee, say on : he 's for a jig, or he sleeps : say on : 
 
 come to Hecuba. 
 
 First Play. 'But who, O, who had seen the mobled 
 
 queen—' 
 
 Ham ' The mobled queen ?' 
 Pol. That 's good ; ' mobled queen ' is good. 
 First Play. ' Run barefoot up and down, threaten- 
 ing the flames 
 With bisson rheum : a clout upon that head 
 Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe, 
 A blanket, in the alarum of fear caught up : 
 Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd, 
 'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have pro- 
 nounced : 
 But if the gods themselves did see her then 
 When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport 
 In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs, 
 The instant burst of clamor that she made, 
 Unless things mortal move them not at all, 
 
46 HAMLET. 
 
 Would have made milch the burning eyes of 
 heaven, 
 
 And passion in the gods.' 
 
 Pol. Look, whether he has not turned his color 
 and has tears in 's eyes. Pray you, no more. 
 
 Ham. 'Tis well ; I '11 have thee speak out the rest 
 soon. Good, my lord, will you see the players well 
 bestowed ? Do you hear, let them be well used ; for 
 they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the 
 time : after your death you were better have a bad 
 epitaph than their ill report while you live. 
 
 Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their 
 desert. 
 
 Ham. God's bodykins, man, much better: use 
 every man after his desert, and who should 'scape 
 whipping? Use them after your own honor and 
 dignity : the less they deserve, the more merit is in 
 your bounty. Take them in. 
 
 Pol. Come, sirs. 
 
 Ham. Follow him, friends ; we '11 hear a play to- 
 morrow. [Exit Polonius with all the Players but the 
 First.'] Dost thou hear me, old friend ; can you play 
 the murder of Gonzago? 
 
 First Play. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ham. We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, 
 for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen 
 lines, which I would set down and insert in't, could 
 you not ? 
 
 First Play. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Very well. Follow that lord ; and look you 
 mock him not. [Exit First Player.] My good 
 friends, I '11 leave you till night: you are welcome 
 to Elsinore. 
 
 Eos. Good, my lord ! 
 
 Ham. Ay, so, God b' wi' ye ; [Exeunt Rosencrantz 
 
 and Ouildenstern.'] Now I am alone. 
 O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! 
 Is it not monstrous. that this player here, 
 But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, 
 Could force his soul so to his own conceit 
 That from her working all his visage wann'd, 
 
ACT II. — SCENE II. 47 
 
 Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect, 
 
 A broken voice, and his whole function suiting 
 
 With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing! 
 
 For Hecuba ! 
 
 What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, 
 
 That he should weep for her? What would he do, 
 
 Had he the motive and the cue for passion 
 
 That I have ? He would drown the stage with tears, 
 
 And cleave the general ear with horrid speech, 
 
 Make mad the guilty, and appall the free, 
 
 Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed 
 
 The very faculties of eyes and ears. 
 
 Yet I, 
 
 A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, 
 
 Like John-a-dreams, un pregnant of my cause, 
 
 And can say nothing ; no, not for a king, 
 
 Upon whose property and most dear life 
 
 A damn'd.defeat was made. Am I a coward ? 
 
 Who calls me villain ? breaks my pate across ? 
 
 Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face ? 
 
 Tweaks me by the nose ? gives me the lie i' the throat, 
 
 As deep as to the lungs ? w T ho does 'me this ? 
 
 Ha! 
 
 'Swounds, I should take it : for it can not be 
 
 But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall 
 
 To make oppression bitter, or ere this 
 
 I should have fatted all the region kites 
 
 With this slave's offal ; bloody villain ! 
 
 Remorseless, treacherous, kindless villain ! 
 
 O, vengeance ! 
 
 Why, what an ass am I ! This is most brave, 
 
 That I, the son of a dear father murder'd, 
 
 Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, 
 
 Must unpack my heart with words, 
 
 And fall a-cursing, like a very scullion ! 
 
 Fie upon 't ! foh ! About, my brain ! 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 proclaim'd their malefactions; 
 
 For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak 
 
48 HAMLET. 
 
 With most miraculous organ. 1 '11 have these players 
 Play something like the murder of my father 
 Before mine uncle : I 'II observe his looks ; 
 I '11 tent him to the quick : if he but blench, 
 I know my course. The_spirit that I have seen 
 May be the devil : and the devil hath power 
 To assume a pleasing shape: yea, and perhaps 
 Out of my weakness and my melancholy, 
 As he is very potent with such spirits, 
 Abuses me to damn me ; I J ll have grounds 
 More relative than ihis : the play 's the thing 
 Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. 
 
 [Exit. 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. A room in the castle. 
 
 Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Kosen- 
 crantz, 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, 
 When we would bring him on to some confession 
 Of his true state. 
 
 Queen. Did he receive you well ? 
 
 Ros. Most like a gentleman. 
 
 Guil. But with much forcing of his disposition. 
 
 Ros. Niggard of question; but, of our demands, 
 Most free in his reply. 
 
 Queen. Did you assay him 
 
 To any pastime ? 
 
 Ros. Madam, it so fell out, that certain players 
 We o'er-raught on the way : of these we told him ; 
 And there did seem in him a kind of joy 
 To hear of it : they are about the court, 
 And, as I think, they have already order 
 This night to play before him. 
 
ACT III. — SCENE I. 49 
 
 Pel. 'T is most true : 
 
 And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties 
 To hear and see the matter. 
 
 King. With all my heart ; and it doth much con- 
 tent me 
 To hear him so inclined. 
 Good gentlemen, give him a further edge, 
 And drive his purpose on to these delights. 
 
 Eos. We shall, my lord. 
 
 [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. 
 
 King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too ; 
 
 For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither, 
 That he, as 't were by accident, may here 
 Affront Ophelia : 
 
 Her father and myself, lawful espials, 
 Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing, unseen, 
 We may of their encounter frankly judge, 
 And gather by him, as he is behaved, 
 If 't be the affliction of his love or no 
 That thus he suffers for. 
 
 Queen. I shall obey you. 
 
 And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish 
 That your good beauties be the happy cause 
 Of Hamlet's wildness : so shall I hope your virtues 
 Will bring him to his wonted way again, 
 To both your honors. 
 
 Oph. Madam, I wish it may. [Exit Queen. 
 
 Pol. Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious, so please 
 you, 
 We will bestow ourselves. [To Ophelia] Read on 
 
 this book ; 
 That show of such an exercise may color 
 Your loneliness. AVe are oft to blame in this, — 
 'Tis too much proved — that with devotion's visage 
 And pious action we do sugar o'er 
 The devil himself. 
 
 King [Aside] 0, 't is too true ! 
 How smart a lash that speech doth give my con- 
 science ! 
 The haggard cheek, beautied with plastering art, 
 Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it 
 
50 HAMLET. 
 
 Than is my deed to my most painted word : 
 heavy burthen ! 
 
 Pol. I hear him coming : let 's withdraw, my lord. 
 
 [Exeunt King and Polonius. 
 
 Enter Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. To be, or not to be : that is the question : 
 Whether 't is nobler in the mind to suffer 
 The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 
 Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
 And by opposing end them ? To die : to sleep ; 
 No more ; and by a sleep to say we end 
 The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks 
 That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation 
 Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep ; 
 To sleep : perchance to dream : ay, there 's the rub ; 
 For in that sleep of death what dreams may come 
 When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 
 Must give us pause : there 's the respect 
 That makes calamity of so long life ; 
 For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 
 The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, 
 The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, 
 The insolence of office, and the spurns 
 That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 
 When he himself might his quietus make 
 With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, 
 To grunt and sweat under a weary life, 
 But that the dread of something after death, 
 The undiscover'd country from whose bourn 
 No traveler returns, puzzles the will, 
 And makes us rather bear those ills we have 
 Than fly to others that we know not of ? 
 Thus conscience does make cowards of us all ; 
 And thus the native hue of resolution 
 Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, 
 And enterprises of great pith and moment 
 With this regard the currents turn awry, 
 And lose the name of action.— Soft you now! 
 The fair Ophelia ! Nymph, in thy orisons 
 Be all mv sins remember'd. 
 
ACT III. — SCENE I. 51 
 
 Oph. Good my lord, 
 
 How does your honor for this many a day ? 
 
 Ham. I humbly thank you ; well, well, well. 
 
 Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours, 
 That I have longed long to re-deliver ; 
 I pray you, now receive them. 
 
 Ham. No, not I ; 
 
 I never gave you aught. 
 
 Oph. My honor'd lord, you know right well you 
 did; 
 And with them, words of so sweet breath composed 
 As made the things more rich : their perfume lost, 
 Take these again : for to the noble mind 
 Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. 
 There, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Ha, ha! are you honest? 
 
 Oph. My lord ? 
 
 Ham. Are you fair ? 
 
 Oph. What means your lordship ? 
 
 Ham. That if you be honest and fair, your hon- 
 esty should admit no discourse to your beauty. 
 
 Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better com- 
 merce than with honesty ? 
 
 Ham. Ay, truly ; for the power of beauty will 
 sooner transform honesty from what it is than the 
 force of honesty can translate beauty into his like- 
 ness : this was sometime a paradox, but now the 
 time gives it proof. I did love you once. 
 
 Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so. 
 
 Ham. You should not have believed me ; for vir- 
 tue can not so inoculate our old stock but we shall 
 relish of it : I loved you not. 
 
 Oph. I was the more deceived. 
 
 Ham. Get thee to a nunnery: lam myself indif- 
 ferent honest ; but yet I could accuse me of such 
 things that it were better my mother had not borne 
 me; I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with 
 more offenses at my beck than I have thoughts to 
 put them in, imagination to give them shape, or 
 time to act them in. What should such fellows as I 
 do crawling between earth and heaven ? We are 
 
52 HAMLET. 
 
 arrant knaves, all ; believe none of us. Go thy ways 
 to a nunnery. Where 's your father? 
 
 Oph. At home, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him that he 
 may play the fool nowhere but in 's own house. 
 Farewell. 
 
 Oph. O, help him, you sweet heavens ! 
 
 Ham. If thou dost marry, I '11 give thee this 
 plague for thy dowry ; be thou as chaste as ice, as 
 pure as snow r , thou shalt not escape calumny. Get 
 thee to a nunnery, go : farewell. Or, if thou wilt 
 needs marry, marry a fool ; for wise men know well 
 enough what monsters you make of them. To a 
 nunnery, go, and quickly, too. Farewell. 
 
 Oph. O heavenly powers, restore him ! 
 
 Ham. I have heard of your paintings too, well 
 enough ; God has given you one face, and you make 
 yourselves another : you jig, you amble, and you 
 lisp, and nickname God's creatures, and make your 
 wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I '11 no more 
 on 't ; it hath made me mad. I say, we will have no 
 more marriages ; those that are married already, all 
 but one, shall live ; the rest shall keep as they are. 
 To a nunnery, go, [Exit. 
 
 Oph. 0, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown ! 
 The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, 
 
 sword ; 
 The expectancy and rose of the fair state, 
 The glass of fashion and the mould of form, 
 The observed of all observers, quite, quite down ! 
 And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, 
 That suck'd the honey of his music vows, 
 Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, 
 Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh ; 
 That unmatched form and feature of blown youth 
 Blasted with ecstasy : O, woe is me, 
 To have seen what I have seen, see what I see ! 
 
 Re-enter King and Polonius. 
 
 King. Love ! his affections do not that way tend ; 
 Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little, 
 
ACT III. — SCENE II. 53 
 
 Was not like madness. There's something in his 
 
 soul, 
 O'er which his melancholy sits on brood ; 
 And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose 
 Will be some danger ; which for to prevent, 
 I have in quick determination 
 Thus set it down : he shall with speed to England, 
 For the demand of our neglected tribute : 
 Haply the seas and countries different 
 With variable objects shall expel 
 This something-settled matter in his heart, 
 Wheron his brain 's still beating puts him thus 
 From fashion of himself. What think you on 't ? 
 
 Pol. It shall do well : but yet do I believe 
 The origin and commencement of his grief 
 Sprung from neglected love. How now, Ophelia! 
 "i ou need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said ; 
 We heard it all. My lord, do as you please ; 
 But, if you hold it fit, after the play 
 Let his queen mother all alone entreat him 
 To show his grief: let her be round with him ; 
 And I '11 be placed, so please you, in the ear 
 Of all their conference. If she find him not, 
 To England send him, or confine him where 
 Your wisdom best shall think. 
 
 King. It shall be so : 
 
 Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. A hall in the castle. 
 Enter Hamlet and Players. 
 Ham. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced 
 it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you 
 mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief 
 the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the 
 air too much with your hand, thus, but use all 
 gently ; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I 
 may say, the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire 
 and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. 
 O, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious 
 periwig-pated follow tear a passion to tatters, to very 
 
54 HAMLET. 
 
 rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who for 
 the most part are capable of nothing but inexplica- 
 ble dumb-shows and noise : I would have such a 
 fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it out- 
 herods Herod : pray you, avoid it. 
 First Play. I warrant your honor. 
 Ham. Be not too tame neither, but let your own 
 discretion be your tutor : suit the action to the 
 word, the word to the action ; with this special ob- 
 servance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of na- 
 ture : for anything so overdone is from the purpose 
 of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, 
 was and is, to hold, as 't were, the mirror up to na- 
 ture ; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own 
 image, and the very age and body of the time his 
 form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come 
 tardy off, though it make the unskillful laugh, can 
 not but make the judicious grieve; the censure of 
 the which one must in your allowance o'erweigh 
 a whole theatre of others.' O, there be players that 
 I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that 
 highly, not to speak it profanely, that, neither hav- 
 ing the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Chris- 
 tian, pagan, nor Turk, have so strutted and bellowed 
 that I have thought some of nature's journeymen 
 had made them, and not made them well, they imi- 
 tated humanity so abominably. 
 
 First Play. I hope we have reformed that indiffer- 
 ently with us, sir. 
 
 i""* Ham. O, reform it altogether. And let those that 
 play your clowns speak no more than is set down for 
 them ; for there be of them that will themselves 
 laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators 
 to laugh too ; though, in the mean time, some neces- 
 sary question of the play be then to be considered : 
 that's villainous, and shows a most pitiful ambition 
 in the fool that uses it. Go, make you ready. 
 J [Exeunt Players. 
 
 Enter Polonius, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. 
 

 ACT III. — SCENE ir. 55 
 
 How now, my lord ! will the king hear this piece of 
 work ? 
 
 Pol. And the queen too, and that presently. 
 
 Ham. Bid the players make haste. [Exit Polo- 
 nius.~\ Will you two help to hasten them? 
 
 ^ 0S ' \ We will, my lord. 
 Guil. ) 
 
 [Exeunt Rosencranlz and Guild enstern. 
 Ham. What ho ! Horatio ! 
 
 Enter Horatio. 
 
 Hor. Here, sweet lord, at your service. 
 
 Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man 
 As e'er my conversation coped withal. 
 
 Hor. O, my dear lord, — 
 
 Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter ; 
 
 For what advancement may I hope from thee 
 That no revenue hast but thy good spirits, 
 'To feed and clothe thee ? Why should the poor be 
 
 flatter'd ? 
 No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, 
 And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee 
 Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear ? 
 Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice 
 And could of men distinguish, her election 
 Hath seal'd thee for herself ; for thou hast been 
 As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, 
 A man that fortune's buffets and rewards 
 Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and blest are those 
 W hose_ blood and judgment are so w^ l pmm-mnglpd, 
 That they are not a pi pe for fortunel s. fingex 
 
 'b sou nd \y l-m.t, sto p she please . Jjive me that man. 
 T^hali&jia Lpassion's slave, a,nd T will wear hj 
 T ^j22X freak's nnro ] ay ) \ n mv heart of hear t, 
 As I do thee.— So ething too much of this. — 
 There is a play to night before the king ; 
 One scene of it comes near the circumstance 
 Which I have told thee of my father's death : 
 I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot, 
 Even with the very comment of thy soul 
 Observe mine uncle : if his occulted guilt 
 
56 HAMLET. 
 
 Do not itself unkennel in one speech, 
 
 It is a damned ghost that we have seen, 
 
 And my imaginations are as foul 
 
 As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note ; 
 
 For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, 
 
 And after we will both our judgments join 
 
 In censure of his eeming. 
 
 Hor. Well, my lord : 
 
 If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing, 
 And 'scape detecting, I will pay the theft. 
 
 Ham. They are coming to the play; I must be 
 idle : 
 Get you a place. 
 
 Danish march. A flourish. Enter King, Queen, Po- 
 lonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and 
 others. 
 
 King. How fares our cousin Hamlet? 
 
 Ham. Excellent, i' faith ; of the chameleon's dish: 
 I eat the air, promise-crammed: you can not feed 
 capons so. 
 
 King. I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet; 
 these words are not mine. 
 
 Ham. No, nor mine now. [To Polonius] My lord, 
 you played once i' the university, you say? 
 
 Pol. That did I, my lord ; and was accounted a 
 good actor. 
 
 Ham. What did you enact? 
 
 Pol. I did enact Julius Ca?sarj ^J was killed i' the 
 Capitol ^ Brutus killed me. 
 
 Ham. It w r as a brute part of him to kill so capital 
 a calf there. Be the players ready ? 
 
 Ros. Ay, my lord ; they stay upon your patience. 
 
 Queen. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me. 
 
 Ham. No, good mother, here 's me tal mor e attrac^, 
 tive^ 
 
 Pol. [ To the King] O, ho ! do you mark that ? 
 
 Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap ? 
 
 [Lying down at Ophelia's feet. 
 
 Oph. No, my lord. 
 
 Ham. I mean, my head upon your lap ? 
 
ACT III. — SCENE II. 57 
 
 Oph. Ay, my lord. You are merry, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Who, I ? 
 
 Oph. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ham. God, your only jig-maker. AVhat should 
 a man do but be merry ? for, look you, how 
 cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died 
 within these two hours. 
 
 Oph. Nay, 't is twice two months, my lord. 
 
 Ham. So long? Nay, then, let the devil wear 
 black, for I '11 have a suit of sables. heavens ! 
 die two months ago, and not forgotten yet ? Then 
 there 's hope a great man's memory inay outlive his 
 life half a year : but, by 'r lady, he must build 
 churches, then ; or else shall he suffer not thinking 
 on, with the hobby horse, whose epitaph is, 'For, 
 O, for, O, the hobby-horse is forgot.' 
 
 Hautboys play. The dumb-show enters. 
 
 Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly ; the Queen 
 embracing him, and he Iter. She kneels, and makes 
 show of protestation unto him. He takes her up, and 
 declines his head upon her neck : lays him do wn upon 
 a bank of flowers : she, seeing him asleep, leaves him. 
 Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his crown, kisses it, 
 and pours poison in the King's ears, and exit. Tlie 
 Queen returns ; finds the King dead, and makes pas- 
 sionate action. The Poisoner, with some two or three 
 Mutes, comes in again, seeming to lament with her. 
 The dead body is carried away. The Poisoner woos 
 the Queen with gifts : she seems loath and unwilling, 
 awhile, but in the end accepts his love. [Exeunt. 
 
 Oph. What means this, my lord? 
 Ham. Marry, this is miching mallecho ; it means 
 
 mischief. 
 
 Oph. Belike this show imports the argument of 
 
 the play. 
 
 Enter Prologue. 
 
 Ham. We shall know by this fellow ; the players 
 can not keep counsel ; they '11 tell all. 
 Pro. For us, and for our tragedy, 
 
 Here stooping to your clemency, 
 
58 HAMLET. 
 
 We beg your hearing patiently. [Exit. 
 
 Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? 
 Oph. 'Tis brief, my lord. 
 Ham. As woman's love. 
 
 Enter two Players, King and Queen. 
 
 P. King. Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone 
 round 
 Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground, 
 And thirty dozen moons with borrowed sheen 
 About the world have times twelve thirties been, 
 Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands 
 Unite commutual in most sacred bands. 
 
 P. Queen. So many journeys may the sun and moon 
 Make us again count o'er ere love be done ! 
 But woe is me, you are so sick of late, 
 So far from cheer and from your former state, 
 That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust, 
 Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must : 
 For women's fear and love holds quantity ; 
 In neither aught, or in extremity. 
 Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know; 
 And as my love is sized, my fear is so : 
 Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear ; 
 Where little fears grow great, great love grows there. 
 
 P. King. 'Faith I must leave thee, love, and 
 shortly too ; 
 My operant powers their functions leave to do : 
 And thou shalt live in this fair world behind, 
 Honor'd, beloved ; and haply one as kind 
 For husband shalt thou — 
 
 P. Queen. O, confound the rest! 
 
 Such love must needs be treason in my breast: 
 In second husband let me be accurst! 
 None wed the second but who kill'd the first. 
 
 Ham. [Aside] Wormwood, wormwood. 
 
 P. Queen. The instances that second marriage 
 move 
 Are base respects of thrift, but none of love : 
 
 P. King. I do believe you think what now you 
 speak ; 
 
ACT III. — SCENE II. 59 
 
 But what we do determine oft we break. 
 
 Purpose is but the slave to memory, 
 
 Of violent birth, but poor validity : 
 
 Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree ; 
 
 But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be. 
 
 Most necessary 't is that we forget 
 
 To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt : 
 
 What to ourselves in passion we propose, 
 
 The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. 
 
 The violence of either grief or joy 
 
 Their own enactures with themselves destroy : 
 
 Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament : 
 
 Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident. 
 
 This world is not for aye, nor 't is not strange 
 
 That even our loves should with our fortunes 
 
 change ; 
 For 't is a question left us yet to prove, 
 Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love. 
 The great man down, you mark his favorite flies: 
 The poor advanced makes friends of enemies. 
 And hitherto doth love on fortune tend ; 
 For who not needs shall never lack a friend, 
 And who in want a hollow friend doth try, 
 Directly seasons him his enemy. 
 But, orderly to end where I begun, 
 Our wills and fateh do so contrary run 
 That our devices still are overthrown ; 
 Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our 
 
 own : 
 So think thou wilt no second husband wed ; 
 But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead. 
 P. Queen. Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven 
 
 light ! 
 Sport and repose lock from me day and night! 
 To desperation turn my trust and hope ! 
 An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope ! 
 Each opposite that blanks the face of joy 
 Meet what I would have well and it destroy ! 
 Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife, 
 If, once a widow, ever I be wife 1 
 Ham. If she should break it now ! 
 
60 HAMLET. 
 
 P. King. 'T is deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here 
 awhile ; 
 My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile 
 The tedious day with sleep. [Sleeps. 
 
 P. Queen. Sleep rock thy brain ; 
 
 And never come mischance between us twain ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Ham. Madam, how like you this play ? 
 
 Queen. The lady protests too much, methinks. 
 
 Ham. O, but she '11 keep her word. 
 
 King. Have you heard the argument? Is there no 
 offence in 't? 
 
 Ham. No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no 
 offence i' the world. 
 
 King. What do you call the play ? 
 
 Ham. The Mouse-trap. Marry, how ? Tropically. 
 This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna : 
 Gonzago is the duke's name ; his wife, Baptista ; you 
 shall see anon ; 't is a knavish piece of work : but 
 what o' that ? your majesty and we that have free 
 souls, it touches us not : let the galled jade wince, 
 our withers are unwrung. 
 
 Enter Lucianus. 
 
 This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king. 
 
 Oph. You are as good as a chorus, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Begin, murderer ; leave thy damnable faces, 
 and begin. Come : ' the croaking raven doth bellow 
 for revenge.' 
 
 Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and 
 time agreeing ; 
 Confederate season, else no creature seeing ; 
 Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected, 
 With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected, 
 Thy natural magic and dire property, 
 On wholesome life usurp immediately. 
 
 [Pours the poison into the sleeper's ear. 
 
 Ham. He poisons him in* the garden for 's estate. 
 His name 's Gonzago ; the story is extant, and writ 
 in choice Italian : you shall see anon how the mur- 
 derer gets the love of Gonzago's wife. 
 
ACT III. — SCENE II. 61 
 
 Oph. The king rises. 
 
 Ham. What, frighted with false fire ! 
 
 Queen. How fares my lord? 
 
 Pol. Give o'er the play. 
 
 King. Give me some light : away ! 
 
 All. Lights, lights, lights ! 
 
 [Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horatio. 
 Ham. Why let the stricken deer go weep, 
 The hart nngalled play ; 
 For some must watch, while some must 
 sleep : 
 So runs the w T orld away. 
 Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers— if the 
 rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me — with two Pro- 
 vincial roses on my razed shoes, get me a fellowship 
 in a cry of players, sir ? 
 Hor. Half a share. 
 Ham. A whole jone, ay. 
 
 For thou dost know, Damon dear, 
 
 This realm dismantled was 
 Of Jove himself ; and now reigns here 
 A very, very — pajock. 
 Hor. You might have rhymed. 
 Ham. O good Horatio, I '11 take the ghost's word 
 for a thousand pound. Didst perceive ? 
 Hor. Very well, my lord. 
 Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning? 
 Hor. I did very well note him. 
 Ham. Ah, ha ! Come, some music ! come, the 
 recorders ! 
 
 For if the king like not the comedy, 
 Why then, belike, he likes it not, perdy. 
 Come, some music ! 
 
 Re-enter Kosencrantz and Guildenstern. 
 
 Guil. Good, my lord, vouchsafe me a word with 
 you. 
 
 Ham. Sir, a whole history. 
 
 Guil. The king, sir,— 
 
 Ham. Ay, sir, what of him ? 
 
 Guil. Is in his retirement marvellous distempered. 
 
62 HAMLET. 
 
 Ham. With drink, sir? 
 
 Guil. No, rny lord, rather with choler. 
 
 Ham. Your wisdom should show itself more 
 richer to signify this to his doctor ; for — 
 
 Guil. Good, my lord, put your discourse into some 
 frame and start not so wildly from my affair. 
 
 Ham. I am tame sir : pronounce. 
 
 Guil. The queen, your mother, in most great afflic- 
 tion of spirit, hath sent me to you. 
 
 Ham. You are welcome. 
 
 Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of 
 the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a 
 wholesome answer, I will do your mother's com- 
 mandment: if not, your pardon and my return 
 shall be end of my business. 
 
 Ham. Sir, I can not. 
 
 Guil. What, my lord? 
 
 Ham. Make you a wholesome ^iswer ; my wit 's 
 diseased : but, sir, such answer as I can make, you shall 
 command; or, rather, as you say, my mother: there- 
 fore no more, but to the matter : my mother, you 
 say — 
 
 Ros. Then thus she says ; your beha vior hath 
 
 Struck hprJmjgL2i IW (ftP 1Pi Tli " nnrl ar l m i na tion 
 
 •^Harn. O wonderful son, that can so astonish a 
 mother! But is there no sequel at the heels of this 
 mother's admiration ? Impart. 
 
 Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet, 
 ere you go to bed. 
 
 Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our 
 mother. Have you any further trade with us ? 
 
 Ros. My lord, you once did love me. 
 
 Ham. So I do still, by these pickers and stealers. 
 
 Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of dis- 
 temper ? you do, surely, bar the door upon your 
 own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend. 
 
 Ham. Sir, I lack advancement. 
 
 Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice of 
 the king himself for your succession in Denmark ? 
 
 Ham. Ay, sir, but ' While the grass grows/ — the 
 proverb is something musty. 
 

 ACT III. — SCENE II. 63 
 
 Re-enter Players with recorders. 
 
 O, the recorders! let ine see one. To withdraw with 
 you : — why do you go about to recover the wind of 
 me, as if you would drive me into a toil ? 
 
 Guil. 0, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love 
 is too unmannerly. 
 
 Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you 
 play upon this pipe ! 
 
 Guil. My lord, I can not. 
 
 Ham. I pray you. 
 
 Guil. Believe me, I can not. 
 
 Ham. I do beseech you. 
 
 Guil. I know no touch of it, my lord. 
 
 Ham. T is as easy as lying : govern these ventages 
 with your fingers and thumb, give it breath with 
 your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent 
 music. Look you, these are the stops. 
 
 Guil. But these can not I command to any utter- 
 ance of harmony ; I have not the skill. 
 
 Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing 
 you make of me! You would play upon me; you 
 would seem to know my stops; you would pluck 
 out the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me 
 from my lowest note to the top of my compass : and 
 there is much music, excellent voice, in this little 
 organ ; yet can not you make it speak. 'Sblood, do 
 you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? 
 Call me what instrument you will, though you can 
 fret me, yet you can not play upon me. 
 
 • Enter Polonius. 
 
 God bless you, sir ! 
 
 Pol. My lord, the queen would speak with you, 
 and presently. 
 
 Ham. Do you see yonder cloud that 's almost in 
 shape of a camel ? 
 
 Pol. By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed. 
 
 Ham. Methinks it is like a weasel. 
 
 Pol. It is backed like a weasel. 
 
 Ham. Or like a whale ? 
 
 Pol. Very like a whale. 
 
64 HAMLET. 
 
 Ham. Then I will come to my mother by and by. 
 They fool me to the top of my bent. I will come 
 by andby. 
 
 Pol. I will say so. 
 
 Ham. By and bv is easily said. [Exit Polonius.~] 
 
 \ 
 
 U 
 
 Leave me, friends. [Exeunt all but Hamlet. 
 
 'Tis now the very witching time of night, 
 
 When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes 
 
 out 
 Contagion to this world : now could I drink hot 
 
 blood, 
 And do such bitter business as the day 
 Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother. 
 
 heart, lose not thy nature ; let not ever 
 The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom : 
 Let me be cruel, not unnatural : 
 
 1 will speak daggers to her, but use none : 
 My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites ; 
 How in my words soever she be shent, 
 To give them seals never, my soul, consent! [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. A room in the castle. 
 Inter King, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern. 
 King. I like him not, nor stands it safe with us 
 To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you ; 
 I your commission will forthwith despatch, 
 l And he to England shall along with you : 
 The terms of our estate may not endure 
 Hazard so dangerous as doth hourly grow 
 Out of his lunacies. 
 
 Guil. We will ourselves provide : 
 
 Most holy and religious fear it is 
 To keep those many, many bodies safe 
 That live and feed upon your majesty. 
 
 Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound, 
 With all the strength and armor of the mind, 
 TIo keep itself from noyance ; but much more 
 I That spirit upon whose weal depend and rest 
 1 The lives of many. The cease of majesty 
 Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw 
 What 's near it with it : it is a massy wheel, 
 

 
 
 A 
 
 ACT III. — SCENE III. 65 
 
 Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount, 
 To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things 
 Are mortised and adjoin'd ; which, when it falls, 
 Each small annexment, pretty consequence, 
 Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone 
 Did the king sigh, but with a general groan. 
 
 King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage ; 
 For we will fetters put upon this fear, 
 Which now goes too free-footed. 
 
 „ .", \ We will haste us. 
 
 Guil. > 
 
 [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildemtern. 
 Enter Polonius. 
 
 Pol. My lord, he 's going to his mother's closet : 
 Behind the arras I '11 convey myself, 
 To hear the process; I'll warrant she'll tax him 
 
 home : 
 And, as you said, and wisely was it said, 
 'T is meet that some more audience than a mother, 
 Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear 
 The speech of vantage. Fare you well, my liege : 
 I '11 call upon you ere you go to bed, 
 And tell you what I know. 
 
 King. Thanks, dear my lord. 
 
 [Exit Polonius. 
 , my offence is rank, it smells to heaven ; 
 hath the primal eldest curse upon 'k, 
 A brot her's murde r. Pray can I not, 
 Though inclination be as sharp as will : 
 My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent : 
 And, like a man to double business bound, 
 stand Tn pause where I shall first begin, 
 nd both neglect. What if this cursed hand 
 ere thicker than itself with brother's blood, 
 there not rain enough in the sweet heavens 
 ► wash it white as snow ? Whereto serves mercy 
 ut to comfort the visage of offence ? 
 
 what's in prayer but this twofold force, 
 e forest alled ere we come to fall, 
 Or pardon'd, being down ? Then I '11 look up ; 
 
HAMLET. 
 
 My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer 
 Can serve my turn ? ' Forgive me my foul mur- 
 der '? 
 That can not be ; since I am still possess'd 
 Of those effects for which 1 did the murder, — 
 My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. 
 May one be pardon'd and retain the offence ? 
 In the corrupted currents of this world 
 Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, 
 And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself 
 Buys out the law : but 'tis not so above ; 
 There is no shuffling, there the action lies 
 In his true nature ; and we ourselves compell'd, 
 Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, 
 To give in evidence. What then ? what rests? 
 Try what repentance can : what can it not ? 
 Yet what can it when one can not repent? 
 wretched state ! bosom black as death ! 
 O limed soul, that, struggling to be free, 
 Art more engaged ! Help, angels ! Make assay ! 
 Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of 
 
 steel, 
 Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe ! 
 All may be well. [Retires and kneels. 
 
 Enter Hamlet. 
 
 \Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying; 
 And now I '11 do 't. And so he goes to heaven ; 
 And so am I revenged. That would be scann'd : 
 A villain kills my father ; and for that, 
 I, his sole son, do this same villain send 
 To heaven. 
 
 O, this is hire and salary, not revenge. 
 He took my father grossly, full of bread ; 
 With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May ; 
 And how his audit stands who knows save heaven? 
 But in our circumstance and course of thought, 
 'Tis heavy with him : and am I then revenged, 
 To take him in the purging of his soul, 
 When he is fit and season'd for his passage ? 
 No! 
 
 ^No 
 
ACT III. — SCENE IV. 67 
 
 Up, sword : and know thou a more horrid hent : 
 When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage, 
 At gaming, swearing, or about some act 
 That has no relish of salvation in 't; 
 Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven, 
 And that his soul may be as damn'd and black 
 As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays ; 
 This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. [Exit. 
 
 King. [Risi ng'] My words fly up, my thoughts re- 
 main below : 
 Words without thoughts never to heaven go. [Exit. 
 
 
 Scene IV. The Queen's closet. 
 Enter Queen and Polonius. 
 Pol. He will come straight. Look you lay home 
 to him : 
 Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear 
 
 with, 
 And that your grace hath screen'd and stood be- 
 tween 
 
 Much heat and him. I '11 sconce me even here. 
 Pray you, be round with him. 
 
 Ham. [Within] Mother, mother, mother! 
 Queen. I '11 warrant you. 
 
 Fear me not : withdraw, I hear him coming. 
 
 Polonius hides behind the arras. 
 
 Enter Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. Now, mother, what's the matter? 
 
 Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much of- 
 fended. 
 
 Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended. 
 
 Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle 
 tongue. 
 
 Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue. 
 
 Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet! 
 
 Jfam. What 's the matter now ? 
 
 Queen. Have you forget me ? 
 
 Ham. No, by the rood, not so: 
 
 You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife ; 
 And — would it were not so ! — vou are mv mother. 
 
68 HAMLET. 
 
 Queen. Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can 
 speak. 
 
 Ham. Come, come, and sit you down; you shall 
 not budge ; 
 You go not till I set you up a glass 
 Where you may see the inmost part of you. 
 
 Queen. What wilt thou do ? thou wilt not murder 
 me ! 
 Help, help, ho! 
 
 Pol. [Behind'] What, ho! help, help, help! 
 
 Ham. [Drawing] How now! a rat? Dead, for a 
 ducat, dead ! 
 
 [Makes a pass through the arras. 
 
 Pol. [Behind] 0,1 am slain! [Falls and.dies.] 
 
 Queen. me, what hast thon done ? 
 
 Ham. Nay, I know not : 
 
 Is it the king? 
 
 Queen. 0, what a rash and blood deed is this ! 
 
 Ham. A bloody deed ! almost as bad, good mother, 
 As kill a king, and marry with his brother. 
 
 Queen. As kill a king ! 
 
 Ham. Ay, lady, 'twas my word. 
 
 [Lifts up the arras and discovers Polonius. 
 Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! 
 I took thee for thy better: take thy fortune ; 
 Thou flnd'st to be too busy is some danger. 
 Leave wringing of your hands : peace ! sit you 
 
 down, 
 And let me wring your heart ; for so I shall, 
 If it be made of penetrable stuff, 
 If damned custom have not brass'd it so 
 That it is proof and bulwark against sense. 
 
 Queen. What have I done, that thou darest wag 
 thy tongue 
 In noise so rude against me ! 
 
 Ham. Such an act 
 
 That blurs the grace and blush of modesty, 
 Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose 
 From the fair forehead of an innocent love, 
 And sets a blister there, ma^es marriage-vows 
 As false as dicers' oaths : 0, such a deed 
 

 ACT III. — SCENE IV. 69 
 
 • 
 As from the body of contraction plucks 
 The very soul, and sweet religion makes 
 A rhapsody of words: heaven's face doth glow ; 
 Yea. this solidity and compound mass, 
 With tristful visage, as against the doom, 
 Is thought-sick at the act. 
 
 Queen. Ay me, what act, 
 
 That roars so loud, and thunders in the index? 
 
 Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and on this, 
 The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. 
 See, what a grace was seated on this brow ; 
 Hyperion's curls ; the front of Jove himself ; 
 An eye like Mars, to threaten and command ; 
 A station like the herald Mercury 
 New-lighted on a heaven kissing hill; 
 A combination and a form indeed, 
 Where every god did seem to set his seal, 
 To give the world assurance of a man : 
 This was your husband. Look you now, what fol- 
 lows: 
 Here is your husband ; like a mildew'd ear, 
 Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes ? 
 Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, 
 And batten on this moor ? Ha ! have you eyes? 
 You can not call it love ; for at your age 
 The hey-day in the blood is tame, it 's hnmhle./ 
 And waits upon the judgment : and what judgment 
 Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you 
 
 have, 
 Else could you not have motion; but sure, that 
 
 sense 
 Is apoplex'd ; for madness would not err, 
 Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd 
 But it reserved some quantity of choice, 
 To serve in such a difference. What devil was 't 
 That thus hath cozen'd you athoodman-blind? 
 Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, 
 Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all, 
 Or but a sickly part of one true sense 
 Could not so mope. 
 shame ! where is thy blush ? 
 
70 HAMLET. 
 
 Queen. O Hamlet, speak no more : 
 
 Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul : 
 And there I see such black and grained spots 
 As will not leave their tinct. 
 
 Ham. A mur lerer and a \ illain : 
 
 A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe 
 Of your precedent lord ; a vice of kings ; 
 A cutpurse of the empire and the rule, 
 That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, 
 And put it in his pocket! 
 
 Queen. No more ! 
 
 Ham. A king of shreds and patches, — 
 
 Enter Ghost. 
 
 Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings, 
 You heavenly guards ! What would your gracious 
 figure ? 
 
 Queen. Alas, he 's mad ! 
 
 Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide, 
 That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by 
 The important acting of your dread command ? 
 0, say ! 
 
 Ghost. Do not forget : this visitation 
 Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. 
 But, look, amazement on thy mother sits: 
 0, step between her and her fighting soul : 
 Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works. 
 Speak to her, Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. How is it with you, lady ? 
 
 Queen. Alas, how is 't with you, 
 That you do bend your eye on vacancy 
 And with the incorporal air do hold discourse ? 
 Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep ; 
 And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm, 
 Your bedded hair starts up, and stands on end. 
 gentle son. 
 
 Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper 
 Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look ? 
 
 Ham. On him, on him ! Look you, how pale he 
 glares ! 
 His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, 
 
ACT III. SCENE IV. 71 
 
 Would make them capable. Do not look upon me ; 
 
 Lest with this piteous action you convert 
 
 My stern effects : then what I have to do 
 
 Will want true color ; tears perchance for blood. 
 
 Queen. To whom do you speak this ? 
 
 Ham. Do you see nothing there ? 
 
 Queen. Nothing at all ; yet all that is I see. 
 
 Ham. Nor did you nothing hear ? 
 
 Queen. No, nothing but ourselves. 
 
 Ham. Why, look you there ! look, how it steals 
 away ! 
 My father, in his habit as he lived ! 
 Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal ! 
 
 [Exit Ghost. 
 
 Queen. Tlrs is the very coinage of your brain: 
 This bodiless creation ecstasy 
 Is very cunning in. 
 
 Ham. Ecstasy! 
 
 My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, 
 And makes as healthful music: it is not madness 
 That I have utter' d ; bring me to the test, 
 And I the matter will re- word ; which madness 
 Would gambol from. Motha c^for love of ft ac^ 
 Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, 
 That not your trespass, but my madness speaks : 
 It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, 
 Whilst rank corruption, mining all within, 
 Infects unseen. Confe ss yourselfto_h eaven ;_ 
 K epent^ wTTaT's past ; avoid whatTsto come; 
 Forgive me this my virtu e ; 
 For in the fatness of these pursy times 
 Viftu"e~ttselt of vice must par doiTbeg , 
 YeayTTtrrtrand woo lor leave to do him good. 
 
 'Queen. Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in 
 twain . " 
 
 Ham. U, throw away the worser part of it, 
 And live the purer with the other half. 
 Assume a virtue, if you have it not. 
 
 That mnnstPr. nnstom, who fill sptisp doth eat, 
 
 4)i halms devil, is amrel vet in this. 
 Tha4- j hriiTe~usirof actions fair and good 
 
72 HAMLET. 
 
 He likewise gives a frock or livery, 
 
 That aptly is put on. 
 
 For use almost can change the stamp of nature, 
 
 And either master the devil, or throw him out 
 
 With wondrous potency. Good night : 
 
 And when you are desirous to be bless'd, 
 
 I '11 blessing beg of you. For this same lord, 
 
 [Pointirig to Polonius. 
 I do repent ; but heaven hath pleased it so, 
 To punish me with this, and this with me, 
 That I must be their scourge and minister. 
 I will bestow him, and will answer well 
 The death I gave him. So, again, good night. 
 I must be cruel, only to be kind : 
 Thus bad begins and worse remains behind. 
 One word more, good lady. 
 
 Queen. What shall I do ? 
 
 Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do: 
 Let the bloat king make you to ravel ail this matter 
 
 out, 
 That I essential ly am^nglJj]L madness f 
 ^nTmad in craft. 'T were good you let him know ; 
 For~Tvho, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, 
 Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib, 
 Such dear concernings hide ? who would do so ? 
 No, in despite of sense and secrecy, 
 Unpeg the basket on the house's top, 
 Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape, 
 To try conclusions, in the basket creep, 
 And break your own neck down. 
 
 Queen. B thou assured, if words be made of 
 breath, 
 And breath of life, I have no life to breathe 
 What thou hast said to me. 
 
 Ham. I must to England ; you know that? 
 
 Queen. Alack, 
 
 I had forgot : 'tis so concluded on. 
 
 Ham There 's letters seal'd : and my two school- 
 fellows, 
 Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd, 
 They bear the mandate ; they must sweep my way, 
 
ACT IV. — SCENE I. 73 
 
 And marshal me to knavery. Let it work ; 
 For 't is the sport to have the engineer 
 Hoist with his own petard : and 't shall go hard 
 But I will delve one yard below their mines, 
 And blow them at the moon : O, 'tis most sweet, 
 When in one line two crafts directly meet. 
 This man shall set me packing ; 
 <l''ll lug the corse into the neighbour room. 
 (Mother, good night. Indeed this counsellor 
 
 J Is now most still, most secret and most grave, 
 Who was in life a foolish prating knave. 
 
 / Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you. 
 
 / Good night, mother. 
 
 ^ [Exeurd severally ; Hamlet dragging in Polonius. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. A room in the castle. 
 Enter King, Queen, Rosencrantz, and Guilden- 
 
 STERN. 
 
 King. There is matter in these sighs, these pro- 
 found heaves : 
 You must translate : 'tis tit we understand them. 
 Where is your son ? 
 
 Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while. 
 
 {Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. 
 Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to-night ! 
 
 King. What, Gertrude ? How does Hamlet? 
 
 Queen Mad as the sea and wind, when both con- 
 tend 
 Which is the mightier : in his lawless fit, 
 Behind the arras hearing something stir, 
 Whips out his rapier, cries, 'A rat, a rat !' 
 And, in this brainish apprehension, kills 
 The unseen good old man. 
 
 King. heavy deed ! 
 
 It had been so with us, had we been there: 
 His liberty is full ot threats to all; 
 To you yourself, to us, to every one. 
 Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd ? 
 It will be laid to us, whose providence 
 
 u 
 
74 HAMLET. 
 
 Should have kept short, restrain'd and out of haunt, 
 
 This mad young man : but so much was our love, 
 
 We would not understand what was most fit : 
 
 But, like the owner of a foul disease, 
 
 To keep it from divulging, let it feed 
 
 Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone ? 
 
 Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd : 
 O'er whom his very madness, like some ore 
 Among a mineral of metals base, 
 Shows itself pure ; he weeps for what is done. 
 
 King. O Gertrude, come away ! 
 The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch, 
 But we will ship him hence : and this vile deed 
 We must, with all our majesty and ski 1, 
 Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guildenstern ! 
 
 Re-enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. 
 
 Friends both, go join you with some further aid : 
 Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, 
 And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him : 
 Go seek him out ; speak fair, and bring the body 
 Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this. 
 
 [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. 
 Come, Gertrude, we '11 call up our wisest friends ; 
 And let them know, both what we mean to do, 
 And what 's untimely done : so, haply slander — 
 Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter, 
 As level as the cannon to his blank, 
 Transports his poison' d shot, may miss our name, 
 And hit the woundless air. 0, come away ! 
 My soul is full of discord and d smay. [Exeunt. 
 
 . Scene II. Another room in the castle. 
 
 Enter Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. Safely stowed. 
 
 P •/ } [Within] Hamlet! Lord Hamlet! 
 
 Ham. What noise? who calls on Hamlet? O, 
 here they come. 
 
 Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. 
 

 ACT IV. — SCENE III. 75 
 
 Ros. What have you done, my lord, with the dead- 
 body? 
 
 Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin. 
 
 Ros. Tell us where .'t is, that we may take it thence 
 And bear it to the chapel. 
 
 Ham. Do not believe it. 
 
 Ros. Believe what? 
 
 Ham. That I can keep your counsel and not mine 
 own. Besides, to be demanded of a sponge ! what 
 replication should be made by the son of a king? 
 
 Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord? 
 
 Ham. Ay, sir, that soaks up the king's counte- 
 nance, his rewards, his authorities. But such offi- 
 cers do the king best service in the end : he keeps 
 them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw T ; first 
 mouthed, to be last swallowed : when he needs what 
 you have gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, 
 sponge, you shall be dry again. 
 
 Ros. I understand you not, my lord. 
 
 Ham. I am glad of it : a knavish speech sleeps in 
 a foolish ear. 
 
 Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the body is, 
 and go with us to the king 
 
 Ham. The body is with the king, but the king is 
 not with the body. The king is a thing— 
 Guil. A thing, my lord! 
 
 Ham. Of nothing: bring me to him. Hide fox, 
 and all after. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. Another room in the castle. 
 Enter King, attended. 
 King. I have sent to seek him, and to find the 
 body. 
 How dangerous is it that this man goes loose ! 
 Yet must not we put the strong law on him : 
 He 's loved of the distracted multitude, 
 Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes : 
 And where 'tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd, 
 But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even, 
 This sudden sending him away must seem 
 Deliberate pause : diseases desperate grown 
 
76 HAMLET. 
 
 By desperate appliance are relieved, 
 Or not at all. 
 
 Enter Rosencrantz. 
 
 How now ! what hath befall'n? 
 Ros. Where the dead body is bestow 'd, my lord, 
 We can not get from him. 
 
 King. But where is he ? 
 
 Ros. Without, my lord ; guarded, to know your 
 
 pleasure. 
 King. Bring him before us. 
 Ros. Ho, Guildenstern ! bring in my lord. 
 
 Enter" Hamlet and Guildenstern. 
 
 King. Now, Hamlet, where 's Polonius ? 
 
 Ham. At supper. 
 
 King. At supper ! where ? 
 
 Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten : a 
 certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. 
 Your worm is your only emperor for diet : we fat all 
 creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for 
 maggots: your fat king and your lean beggar is but 
 variable service, two dishes, but to one table: that's 
 the end. 
 
 King. Alas, alas ! 
 
 Ham. A man may fish with the worm that hath 
 eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of 
 that worm. 
 
 King. 'Where is Polonius ? 
 
 Ham. In heaven: send thither to see: if your 
 messenger find him not there, seek him i' the other 
 place yourself. But indeed, if you rind him not 
 within this month, you shall nose him as you go up 
 the stairs into the lobby. 
 
 King. Go seek him there. [To some Attendants. 
 
 Ham. He will stay till ye come. 
 
 [Exeunt Attendants. 
 
 King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety, — 
 Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve 
 For that which thou hast done, — must send thee 
 
 hence 
 With fiery quickness ; therefore prepare thyself : 
 
ACT IV. — SCENE IV. 77 
 
 The bark is ready, and the wind at help, 
 The associates tend, and everything is bent 
 For England. 
 
 Ham. For England ! 
 
 King. Ay, Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. Good. 
 
 King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes. 
 
 Ham. I see a cherub that sees them. But, come ; 
 for England ! Farewell, dear mother. 
 
 King. Thy loving father, Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. My mother ; father and mother is man and 
 wife ; man and wife is one flesh ; and so, my mother. 
 Come, for England! [Exit. 
 
 King. Follow him at foot ; tempt him with speed 
 aboard ; 
 Delay it not; I '11 have him hence to-night: 
 Away ! for everything is seal'd and done 
 That else leans on the affair ; pray you, make haste. 
 [Exeunt Rosencrantz and GuUdenstern. 
 And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught — 
 As my great power thereof may give thee sense. 
 Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red 
 After the Danish sword, and thy free awe 
 Pays homage to us — thou mayst not coldly set 
 Our sovereign process ; which imports at full, 
 By letters congruing to that effect, 
 The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England ; 
 For like the hectic in my blood he rages, 
 And thou must cure me : till I know 't is done, 
 
 Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Scene IV, A Plain in Denmark. 
 
 Enter Fortinbras, a Captain, and Soldiers, marching. 
 
 For. Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king; 
 Tell him that, by his license, Fortinbras 
 Craves the conveyance of a promised march 
 Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous. 
 If that his majesty would aught with us, 
 We shall express our duty in his eye : 
 And let him know so. 
 
 Cap. I will do 't, my lord. 
 
78 HAMLET. 
 
 For. Go softly on. 
 
 [Exeunt Fortinbras and Soldiers. 
 
 Enter Hamlet, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and 
 
 others. 
 
 Ham. Good sir, whose powers are these ? 
 
 Cap. They are of Norway, sir. 
 
 Ham. How purposed, sir, I pray you ? 
 
 Cap. Against some part of Poland. 
 
 Ham. Who commands them, sir? 
 
 Cap. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras. 
 
 Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, sir, 
 Or for some frontier ? 
 
 Cap. Truly to speak, and with no addition, 
 We go to gain a little patch of ground 
 That hath in it no profit but the name. 
 To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it ; 
 Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole 
 A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee. 
 
 Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it, 
 
 Cap. Yes, it is already garrison'd. 
 
 Ham. Two thousand souls and twenty thousand 
 ducats 
 Will not debate the question of this straw : 
 This is the imposthune of much wealth and peace, 
 That inward breaks, and shows no cause without 
 Why the man dies. I humbly thank you, sir. 
 
 Cap. God b' wi' you, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Ros. Will 't please you go, my lord? 
 
 Ham. I '11 be Math you straight. Go a little before. 
 
 [Exeunt dll except Hamlet. 
 How all occasions do inform against me, 
 And spur my dull revenge ! What is a man, 
 If his chief good and market of his time 
 Be but to sleep and feed ? a beast, no more. 
 Sure, He that made us with such large discourse, 
 Looking before and after, gave us not 
 That capability and godlike reason 
 To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be 
 Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple 
 Of thinking too precisely on the event, 
 
ACT IV. — SCENE V. 79 
 
 A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wis- 
 dom 
 And ever three parts cow r ard, I do not know 
 Why yet I live to say 'This thing 's to do ;' 
 Sith I have cause and will and strength and means 
 To do 't. Examples gross as earth exhort me: 
 Witness this army of such mass and charge 
 Led by a delicate and tender prince, 
 Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd 
 Makes mouths at the invisible event, 
 Exposing w 7 hat is mortal and unsure 
 To all that fortune, death, and danger dare, 
 Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great 
 Is not to stir without great argument, 
 But greatly to find quarrel in a straw 
 When honor 's at the stake. How stand I then, 
 That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd, 
 Excitements of my reason and my blood, 
 And let all sleep ? while, to my shame, I see 
 The imminent death of twenty thousand men, 
 That, for a fantasy and trick of fame, 
 Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot 
 Whereon the numbers can not try the cause, 
 Which is not tomb enough and continent 
 To hide the slain ? 0, from this time forth, 
 My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth ! [Exit. 
 
 Scene V. Elsinore. A room in the castle. 
 Enter Queen, Horatio, and a Gentleman. 
 
 Queen. I will not speak with her. 
 
 Gent. She is importunate, indeed distract: 
 Her mood will needs be pitied. 
 
 Queen. What w r ould she have ? 
 
 Gent. She speaks much of her father ; says she 
 hears 
 There 's tricks i' the w T orld ; and hems, and beats her 
 
 heart ; 
 Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doabt, 
 That carry but half sense : her speech is nothing, 
 Yet the unshaped use of it doth move 
 The hearers to collection ; they aim at it, 
 
80 . HAMLET. 
 
 And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts : 
 Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield 
 
 them, 
 Indeed would make one think there might be 
 
 thought, 
 Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. 
 
 Hor. 'T were good she were spoken with ; for she 
 may strew 
 Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds. 
 
 Queen. Let her come in. [Exit Horatio. 
 
 To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is, 
 Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss : 
 So full of artless jealousy is guilt, 
 It spills itself in fearing to be spilt. 
 
 Re-enter Horatio, ivith Ophelia. 
 
 Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Den- 
 mark ? 
 Queen. How now, Ophelia ? 
 
 Oph. [Sings] How should I your true love know 
 From another one? 
 By his cockle hat and staff, 
 And his sandal shoon. 
 Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song? 
 Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark. 
 [Sings] He is dead and gone, lady, 
 He is dead and gone ; 
 At his head a grass-green turf, 
 At his heels a stone. 
 Queen. Nay, but, Ophelia, — 
 Oph. Pray you, mark. 
 [Sings] White his shroud as the mountain snow,— 
 
 Enter King. 
 
 Queen. Alas, look here, my lord. 
 Oph. [Sings] Larded with sweet flowers ; 
 Which bewept to the grave did go 
 With true-love showers. 
 King. How do you, pretty lady? 
 Oph. Well, God 'ild you ! They say^the^owljwas 
 a baker's daughter. Lord, we know, what]|we] are, 
 
ACT IV. — SCENE V. 81 
 
 but know not what we may be. God be at your 
 table ! 
 
 King. Conceit upon her father. 
 
 Oph. Pray you, let's have no words of this; but 
 when they ask you what it means, say you this : 
 [Sings'] To-morrow is St Valentine's day, 
 All in the morning betime, 
 And la maid at your window, 
 To be your Valentine. 
 
 King. How long hath she been thus ? 
 
 Oph. I hope all will be well. We must be patient : 
 but I can not choose but weep to think they should 
 lay him i' the cold ground. My brother shall know 
 of it: and so I thank you for your good counsel. 
 Come, my coach ! Good night, ladies ; good night, 
 sweet ladies ; good night, good night. [Exit. 
 
 King. Follow her close ; give her good watch, 
 I pray you. [Exit Horatio. 
 
 O, this is the poison of deep grief ; it springs 
 All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude, 
 When sorrows come, they come not single spies, 
 But in battalions. First, her father slain : 
 Next, your son gone ; and he most violent author 
 Of his own just remove : the people muddied, 
 Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whis- 
 pers, 
 For good Polonius' death ; and we have done but 
 
 greenly, 
 In hugger-mugger to inter him : poor Ophelia 
 Divided from herself and her fair judgment, 
 Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts : 
 Last, and as much containing as all these, 
 Her brother is in secret come from France ; 
 Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds, 
 And wants not buzzers to infect his ear 
 With pestilent speeches of his father's death ; 
 Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd, 
 Will nothing slick our person to arraign 
 In ear and ear. my dear Gertrude, this, 
 Like to a murdering-piece, in many places 
 Gives me superfluous death. [A noise within. 
 
82 HAMLET. 
 
 Queen. Alack, what noise is this ? 
 
 King. Where are my Switzers ? Let them guard 
 the door. 
 
 Enter another Gentleman. 
 
 What is the matter ? 
 
 Gent. j Save yourself, my lord : 
 
 The ocean, overpeering of his list, 
 Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste 
 Than young Laertes, in a riotous head, 
 O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him lord ; 
 And, as the world were now but to begin, 
 Antiquity forgot, custom not known, 
 The ratifiers and props of every word, 
 They cry, 'Choose we : Laertes shall be king;' 
 Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds: 
 ' Laertes shall be king, Laertes king !' 
 
 Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail they 
 cry! 
 0, this is counter, you false Danish dogs! 
 
 King. The doors are broke. [Noise within. 
 
 Enter Laertes, armed; Danes following. 
 
 Laer. Where is this king? Sirs, stand you all 
 without. 
 
 Danes. No, let 's come in. 
 
 Laer. I pray you, give me leave. 
 
 Danes. We will, we will. 
 
 [They retire without the door. 
 
 Laer. I thank you ; keep the door. O thou vile 
 king, 
 Give me my father! 
 
 Queen. Calmly, good Laertes. 
 
 King. What is the cause, Laertes, 
 
 That thy rebellion looks so giant-like ? 
 .Let him go, Gertrude ; do not fear our person : 
 There 's such divinity doth hedge a king, 
 That treason can but peep to what it would, 
 Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes, 
 Why thou art thus incensed. Let Lim go, Gertrude. 
 Speak, man. 
 
ACT VI. — SCENE V. 83 
 
 Laer. Where is my father ? 
 
 King. Dead. 
 
 Queen. But not by him. 
 
 King. Let him demand his fill. 
 
 Laer. How came he dead ? I '11 not be juggled 
 with : 
 To hell, allegiance ! vows, to the blackest devil ! 
 Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit ! 
 I dare damnation. To this point I stand, 
 That both the worlds I give to negligence, 
 Let come what comes ; only I '11 be revenged 
 Most throughly for my father. 
 
 King. Who shall stay you ? 
 
 Laer. My will, not all the world : 
 And for my means, I Ml husband them so well, 
 They shall go far with little. 
 
 King. Good Laertes, 
 
 If you desire to know the certainty 
 Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your re- 
 venge, 
 That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend and 
 
 foe, 
 Winner and loser ? 
 
 Laer. None but his enemies. 
 
 King. Will you know them then ? 
 
 Laer. To his good friend thus wide I '11 ope my 
 arms; 
 And like the kind life-rendering pelican, 
 Repast them with my blood. 
 
 King, Why, now you speak 
 
 Like a good child and a true gentleman. 
 That I am guiltless of your father's death, 
 And am most sensible in grief for it, 
 It shall as level to your judgment pierce 
 As day does to your eye. 
 
 Banes. [Within] Let her come in. 
 
 Laer. How now ! what noise is that ? 
 
 Re-enter Ophelia. 
 
 heat, dry up my brains ! tears seven times salt, 
 Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye ! 
 
84 HAMLET. 
 
 By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight, 
 Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May ! 
 Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia! 
 O heavens ! is 't possible, a young maid's wits 
 Should be as mortal as an old man's life ? 
 Nature is fine in love, and where 't is fine, 
 It sends some precious instance of itself 
 After the thing it loves. 
 Oph. [Sings'] 
 
 They bore him barefaced on the bier ; 
 Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny ; 
 And in his grave rain'd many a tear: — 
 Fare you well, my dove ! 
 Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade re- 
 venge, 
 It could not move thus. 
 
 Oph. [Sings] You must sing a-down a-down, 
 An you call him a-down-a. 
 O, how the wheel becomes it. It is the false stew- 
 ard, that stole his master's daughter. 
 Laer. This nothing 's more than matter. 
 Oph. There 's rosemary, that's for remembrance ; 
 pray, love, remember : and there is pansies, that 's 
 for thoughts. 
 
 Laer. A document in madness, thoughts and re- 
 membrance fitted. 
 
 Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines: 
 there 's rue for you ; and here 's some for me : we 
 may call it herb-grace o' Sundays : O, you must wear 
 your rue with a difference. There's a daisy: I 
 would give you some violets, but they withered all 
 when my father died : they say he made a good 
 end, — 
 
 [Sings] For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. 
 Laer. Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself, 
 She turns to favor and to prettiness. 
 
 Oph. [Sings] And will he not come again ? 
 And will he not come again ? 
 No, no, he is dead : 
 Go to thy death -bed: 
 He never will come again. 
 
ACT IV. — SCENE VI. 85 
 
 His beard was as white as snow, 
 All flaxen was his poll : 
 He is gone, he is gone, 
 And we cast away moan : 
 God ha' mercy on his soul ! 
 And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God b' w' 
 ye. [Exit. 
 
 Laer. Do you see this, God ? 
 King. 'Laertes, I must commune with your grief, 
 Or you deny me right. Go but apart, 
 Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will, 
 And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me : 
 If by direct or by collateral hand 
 They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give, 
 Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours, 
 To you in satisfaction ; but if not, 
 Be you content to lend your patience to us, 
 And we shall jointly labor with your soul 
 To give it due content. 
 
 Laer. Let this be so ; 
 
 His means of death, his obscure funeral — 
 No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones, 
 No noble right nor formal ostentation — 
 Cry to be heard, as 't were from heaven to earth, 
 That I must call 't in question. 
 
 King. So you shall ; 
 
 And where the offence is let the great axe fall. 
 I pray you, go with me. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI. Another room in the castle. 
 Enter Horatio and a Servant. 
 Hor. What are they that would speak with me ? 
 Serv. Sailors, sir : they say they have letters for 
 
 you. 
 Hor. Let them come in. [Exit Servant. 
 
 I do not know from what part of the world 
 I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet. 
 
 Enter Sailors. 
 
 First Sail. God bless you, sir. 
 Hor. Let him bless thee too. 
 
86 HAMLET. 
 
 First Sail. He shall, sir, an' t please him. There's 
 a letter for you, sir : it comes from the ambassador 
 that was bound for England ; if your name be Hora- 
 tio, as I am let to know it is. 
 
 Hor. [Reads] ' Horatio, when thou shalt have 
 overlooked this, give these fellows some means to 
 the king: they have letters for him. Ere we were 
 two days old at sea, a pirate of very warlike appoint- 
 ment gave us chase. Finding ourselves too slow of 
 sail, we put on a compelled valor, and in the grap- 
 ple I boarded them : on the instant they got clear of 
 our ship ; so I alone became their prisoner. They 
 have dealt with me like thieves of mercy : but they 
 knew what they did ; I am to do a good turn for 
 them. Let the king have the letters I have sent ; 
 and repair thou to me with as much speed as thou 
 wouldst fly death. I have words to speak in thine 
 ear will make thee dumb ; yet are they much too 
 light for the bore of the matter. These good fellows 
 will bring thee where I am. Rosencrantz and Guil- 
 denstern hold their course for England : of them I 
 have much to tell thee. Farewell 
 
 ' He that thou knowest thine, Hamlet.' 
 Come, I will make you way for these your letters ; 
 And do 't the speedier, that you may direct me 
 To him from whom you brought them. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VII. Another room in the castle. 
 Enter King and Laertes. 
 
 King. Now T must your conscience my acquittance 
 seal, 
 And you must put me in your. heart for friend, 
 Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear, 
 That he which hath'your noble father slain 
 Pursued my life. 
 
 Laer. It well appears : but tell me 
 
 Why you proceeded not against these feats, 
 So crime ful and so capital in nature, 
 As by your safety, wisdom, all things else, 
 You mainly we're stirr'd up. 
 
 King. O, for two special reasons, 
 
ACT IV. — SCENE VII. 87 
 
 Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinevv'd, 
 But yet to me they are strong. The queen his 
 
 mother 
 Liv s almost by his looks ; and for myself — 
 My virtue or my plague, be it either which — 
 She 's so conjunctive to my life and soul, 
 That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, 
 I could not but by her. The other motive, 
 Why to a public count I might not go, 
 Is the great love the general gender bear him : 
 Who, dipping all his faults in their affection, 
 Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone, 
 Convert his gyves to graces ; so that my arrows, 
 Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind, 
 Would have reverted to my bow again, 
 And not where I had aim'd them. 
 
 Laer. And so have I a noble father lost; 
 A sister driven into desperate terms, 
 Whose worth, if praises may go back again, 
 Stood challenger on mount of all the age 
 For her perfections: but my revenge will come. 
 
 King. Break not your sleeps for that : you must 
 not think 
 That we a r e made of stuff so flat and dull 
 That we can let our beard be shook with danger 
 And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more : 
 I loved your father, and we love ourself ; 
 And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine — 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 How now ! what news ? 
 
 Mess. Letters, my Lord, from Hamlet : 
 
 This to your majesty ; this to the queen. 
 
 King. From Hamlet! who brought them ? 
 
 Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not: 
 They were given me by Claudio ; he received them 
 Of him that brought them. 
 
 King. Laertes, you shall hear them. 
 
 Leave us. [Exit Messenger. 
 
 [Beads] ' High and mighty, You shall know I am 
 set naked on your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg 
 
88 HAMLET. 
 
 leave to see your kingly eyes : when I shall, first 
 asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion 
 of my sudden and more strange return. 
 
 'Hamlet.' 
 What should this mean? Are all the rest come 
 
 back? 
 Or, is it some abuse, and no such thing? 
 Laer. Know you the hand ? 
 King. 'Tis Hamlet's character. ' Naked !' 
 And in a postscript here, he says ' alone.' 
 Can you advise me ? 
 
 Laer. I 'm lost in it, my lord. But let him come : 
 It warms the very sickness in my heart, 
 That I shall live and tell him to' his teeth, 
 ' Thus didst thou." 
 
 King. If it be so, Laertes — 
 
 As how should it be so ? how otherwise ? — 
 Will you be ruled by me ? 
 
 Laer. Ay, my lord ; 
 
 So you will not o'errule me to a peace. 
 
 King. To thine own peace. If he be now re- 
 turn'd, 
 As checking at his voyage, and that he means 
 No more to undertake it, I will work him 
 To an exploit, now ripe in my device, 
 Under the which he shall not choose but fall : 
 And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe, 
 But even his mother shall uncharge the practice 
 And call it accident. 
 
 Laer. My lord, I will be ruled : 
 
 The rather, if you could devise it so 
 That I might be the organ. 
 
 King. It falls right. 
 
 You have been talk'd of since your travel much, 
 And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality 
 Wherein, they say, you shine: your sum of parts 
 Did not together pluck such envy from him 
 As did that one, and that, in my regard, 
 Of the an worthiest siege. 
 
 Laer. What part is that, my lord? 
 
 King. A very riband in the cap of youth, 
 
ACT IV. — SCENE VII. 89 
 
 Yet needful too ; for youth no less becomes 
 
 The light and careless livery that it wears, 
 
 Than settled age his sables and his weeds, 
 
 Importing health and graveness. Two months since, 
 
 Here was a gentleman of Normandy : — 
 
 I 've seen myself, and served against, the French, 
 
 And they can well on horseback : but this gallant 
 
 Had witchcraft in 't ; he grew unto his seat ; 
 
 And to such wondrous doing brought his horse, 
 
 As he had been incorpsed and demi-natured 
 
 With the brave beast : so far he topp'd my thought, 
 
 That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks, 
 
 Come short of what he did. 
 
 Laer. A Norman was 't ? 
 
 King. A Norman. 
 
 Laer. Upon my life, Lamond. 
 
 King. The very same. 
 
 Laer. I know him well : he is the brooch indeed 
 And gem of all the nation. 
 
 King. He made confession of you, 
 And gave you such a masterly report 
 For art and exercise in your defence, 
 And for your rapier most especially, 
 That he cried out, 't would be a sight indeed, 
 If one could match you : the scrimers of their na- 
 tion, 
 He swore, had neither motion, guard, nor eye, 
 If you opposed them. Sir, this report of his 
 Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy 
 That he could nothing do but wish and beg 
 Your sudden coming o'er, to play with him. 
 Now, out of this, — 
 
 Laer. What out of this, my lord? 
 
 King. Laertes, was your father dear to you ? 
 Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, 
 A face without a heart? 
 
 Laer. Why ask you this ? 
 
 King, Not that I think you did not love your 
 father ; 
 But that I know love is begun by time ; 
 And that I see, in passages of proof, 
 
90 HAMLET. 
 
 Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. 
 
 There lives within the very flame of love 
 
 A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it ; 
 
 And nothing is at a like goodness still ; 
 
 For goodness, growing to a pleurisy, 
 
 Dies in his own too much : that we would do, 
 
 We should do when we would; for this 'would' 
 
 changes 
 And hath abatements and delays as many 
 As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents ; 
 And then this ' should ' is like a spendthrift sigh, 
 That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o' the 
 
 ulcer: — 
 Hamlet comes back : what would you undertake, 
 To show yourself your father's son in deed 
 More than in words ? 
 
 Laer. To cut his throat i' the church. 
 
 King. No place, indeed, should murder sanctu- 
 arize ; 
 Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes, 
 Will you do this, keep close within your chamber. 
 Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home : 
 We '11 put on those shall praise your excellence 
 And set a double varnish on the fame 
 The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine to- 
 gether 
 And wager on your heads: he, being remiss, 
 Most generous and free from all contriving, 
 Will not peruse the foils; so that, with ease, 
 Or with a little shuffling, you may choose 
 A sword unbated, and in a pass of practice 
 Eequite him fcr your father. 
 
 Laer. I will do 't : 
 
 And, for that purpose, I '11 anoint my sword, 
 ' I bought an unction of a mountebank, 
 So mortal that, but dip a knife in it, 
 Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, 
 Collected from all simples that have virtue 
 Under the moon, can save the thing from death 
 That is but scratch'd withal : I'll touch my point 
 
ACT IV. — SCENE VII. 91 
 
 With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly, 
 It may be death. 
 
 King. Let 's further think ot this ; 
 
 Weigh what convenience both of time and means 
 May fit us to our shape : if this should fail, 
 And that our drift look through our bad perform- 
 ance, 
 'T were better not assay 'd: therefore this project 
 Should have a back or second, that might hold, 
 If this should blast in proof. Soft ! let me see : 
 We '11 make a solemn wager on your cunnings : 
 Iha't: 
 
 When in your motion you are hot and dry — 
 As make your bouts more violent to that end — 
 And that he calls for drink, I '11 have prepared him 
 A chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping, 
 If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck, 
 Our purpose may hold there. 
 
 Enter Queen. 
 
 How now, sweet queen! 
 
 Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel, 
 So fast they follow : your sister 's drown'd, Laertes. 
 
 Laer. Drown'd ! O, where ? 
 
 Queen. There is a willow grows aslant a brook, 
 That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream ; 
 There with fantastic garlands did she come, 
 And on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds 
 Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke ; 
 When down her weedy trophies and herself 
 Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread 
 
 wide ; 
 And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up : 
 Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes, 
 As one incapable of her own distress, 
 Or like a creature native and indued 
 Unto that element; but long it could not be 
 Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, 
 Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay 
 To muddy death. 
 
 Laer. Alas, then she is drown'd 9 
 
92 HAMLET. 
 
 ^ • 
 
 Queen. Drown'd, drown'd. 
 
 Laer. Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, 
 And therefore I forbid Yny tears : but yet 
 It is our trick; nature her custom holds, 
 Let shame say what it will : when these are gone, 
 The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord : 
 I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, 
 But that this folly douts it. [Exit 
 
 King. Let 's follow, Gertrude : 
 
 How much I had tc do to calm his rage ! 
 Now fear I this will give it start again ; 
 Therefore let 's follow. [ExeunL 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. A churchyard. 
 Enter two Clowns, with spades, etc. 
 
 First Clo. Is she to be buried in Christian burial 
 that willfully seeks her own salvation ? 
 
 Sec. Clo. I tell thee she is; and therefore make her 
 grave straight : the crowmer hath sat on her, and 
 finds it Christian burial. 
 
 First Clo. How can that be, unless she drowned 
 herself in her own defence? 
 
 Sec. Clo. Why, 't is found so. 
 
 First Clo. 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 act hath three 
 branches ; it is, to act, to do, and to perform : argal, 
 she drowned herself wittingly. 
 
 Sec. Clo. Nay, but hear you, goodman delver, — 
 
 First Clo. Give me leave. Here lies the w r ater ; 
 good : here stands the man ; good : if the man go to 
 this water, and drown himself, it is, will he, nil] he, 
 he goes, — mark you that; but if the water come to 
 him and drown him, he drowns not himself: argal, 
 he that is not guilty of his own death shortens not 
 his own life. 
 
 Sec. Clo. But is this law ? 
 
 First Clo. Ay, marry, is 't ; crowmer's quest law. 
 
 Sec. Clo. Will you ha' the truth on 't? If this had 
 
ACT V. — SCENE I. 93 
 
 not been a gentlewoman, she should have been 
 buried out o' Christian burial. 
 
 First Clo. Why, there thou say'st : and the more 
 pity that great folk should have countenance in this 
 world to drown or hang themselves, more than their 
 even Christian. Come, my spade. There is no an- 
 cient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave- 
 makers: they hold up Adam's profession. 
 
 Sec. Clo. Was he a gentleman ? 
 
 First Clo. He was the first that ever bore arms. 
 
 Sec. Clo. Why, he had none. 
 
 First Clo. What, art a heathen? How dost thou 
 understand the Scripture ? The Scripture says 
 'Adani digged:' conld he dig without arms? I'll 
 put another question to thee : if thou answerest me 
 not to the purpose, confess thyself — 
 
 Sec. Clo. Go to. 
 
 First Clo. What is he that builds stronger than 
 either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? 
 
 Sec. Clo. The gallows-maker ; for that frame out- 
 lives a thousand tenants. 
 
 First Clo. I like thy wit well, in good faith : the 
 gallows does well : but how does it well ? it does 
 well to those that do ill : now thou dost ill to say the 
 gallows is built stronger than the church : argal, the 
 gallows may do well to thee. To 't again, coiiip. 
 
 See. Clo. ' Who builds stronger than a mason, a 
 shipwright, or a carpenter?' 
 
 First Clo. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke. 
 
 Sec. Clo. Marry, now I can tell. 
 
 First Clo. To't, 
 
 Sec. Clo. Mass, I can not tell. 
 
 Enter Hamlet and Horatio, at a distance. 
 
 First Clo. Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for 
 your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating ; 
 and when you are asked this question next, say ' a 
 grave-maker:' the houses that he makes last till 
 doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan: fetch me a 
 stoop of liquor. [Exit Sec. Clown. 
 
 [He digs and sings. 
 
94 HAMLET. 
 
 In youth, when I did love, did love, 
 
 Met nought it was very sweet, 
 To contract, 0, the time, for, ah, my behove, v 
 0, methought, there was nothing meet. 
 Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business, 
 that he sings at grave-making? 
 
 Hot. Custom hath made it in him a property of 
 easiness. 
 
 Ham. 'T is e'en so : the hand of little employment 
 hath the daintier sense. 
 First Clo. [Sings'] 
 
 But age, with his stealing steps, 
 Hath claw'd me in his clutch, 
 And hath shipped me intil the land, 
 As if I had never been such. 
 
 [Throws up a skull. 
 Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and could 
 sing once : how the knave jowls it to the ground, as 
 if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! 
 It might be the pate of a politician, which this ass 
 now o'er-reaches ; one that would circumvent God, 
 might it not? 
 
 Hot. It might, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Or of a courtier ; which could say ' Good 
 morrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord?' 
 This might be my lord such-a-one, that praised my 
 lord such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; 
 might it not ? 
 
 Hot. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Why, e'en so : and now my Lady Worm's ; 
 chapless, and knocked about the mazzard with a 
 sexton's spade : here 's fine revolution, and we had 
 the trick to see 't. Did these bones cost no more the 
 breeding, but to play at loggats w T ith 'em ? Mine 
 ache to think on't. 
 First Clo. [Sings'] 
 
 A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade, 
 
 For and a shrouding sheet : 
 0, a pit of clay for to be made 
 For such a guest is meet. 
 
 [ Throws up another skull. 
 
ACT V. — SCENE I. 95 
 
 Ham. There 's another : why may not that be the 
 skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, 
 his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks ? 
 why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock 
 him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will 
 not tell him of his action of battery ? Hum ! This 
 fellow might be in 's time a great buyer of land, with 
 his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double 
 vouchers, his recoveries ; is this the fine of his fines, 
 and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine 
 pate full of fine dirt ? will his vouchers vouch him 
 no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than 
 the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? 
 The very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in 
 this box; and must the inheritor himself have no 
 more, ha ? 
 
 Hor. Not a jot more, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Is not parchment made of sheep-skins ? 
 
 Hor. Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too. 
 
 Ham. Thev are sheep and calves which seek out 
 assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow. 
 Whose grave 's this, sirrah ? 
 
 First Clo. Mine, sir. 
 
 [Sings'] 0, a pit of clay for to be made 
 For such a guest is meet. 
 
 Ham. I think it be thine, indeed ; for thou liest in't. 
 
 First Clo. 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. 
 
 Ham. Thou dost lie in 't, to be in 't and say it is 
 thine : 'tis for the dead, not for the quick ; therefore 
 thou liest. 
 
 First Clo. Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again, 
 from me to you. 
 
 Ham. What man dost thou dig it for? 
 
 First Clo. For no man, sir. 
 
 Ham. What woman, then? 
 
 First Clo. For none, neither. 
 
 Ham. Who is to be buried in 't? 
 
 First Clo. One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her 
 soul, she 's dead. 
 
96 HAMLET. 
 
 Ham. How absolute the knave is! we must speak 
 by the card, or equivocation will undo us. By the 
 Lord, Horatio, these three years I have taken a note 
 of it; the age is grown so picked that the toe of the 
 peasant comes so near the heehof the courtier, he 
 galls his kibe. How long hast thou been a grave- 
 digger ? 
 
 First Clo. Of all the days i' the year, I came to 't 
 that day that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortin- 
 bras. 
 
 Ham. How long is that since ? 
 
 First Clo. Can not you tell that? every fool can 
 tell that: it was the very day that young Hamlet 
 was born ; he that is mad, and sent into England? 
 
 Ham. Ay, marry, why was he sent into England ? 
 
 First Clo. Why, because he was mad : he shall re- 
 cover his wits there ; or, if he do not, it 's no great 
 matter there. 
 
 Ham. Why? 
 
 First Clo. 'Twill not be seen in him there; there 
 the men are as mad as lie. 
 
 Ham. How came he mad? 
 
 First Clo. Very strangely, they say. 
 
 Ham. How strangely ? 
 
 First Clo. Faith, e'en with losing his wits. 
 
 Ham. Upon what ground ? 
 
 First Clo. Why, here in Denmark : I have been 
 sexton here, man and boy, thirty years. 
 
 Ham. How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot ? 
 
 First Clo. I' faith, if he be not rotten before he die 
 he will last you some eight year or nine year. A 
 tanner will last you nine year. 
 
 Ham. Why he more than another? 
 
 First Clo. Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his 
 trade, that he will keep out water a great while; 
 and your water is a sore decayer of your dead body. 
 Here 's a skull now ; this skull has lain in the earth 
 three and twenty years. 
 
 Ham. Whose was it ? 
 
 First Clo. A mad fellow 's it was : whose do you 
 think it was ? 
 
ACT V. — SCENE I. 97 
 
 Ham. Nay, I know not. 
 
 First Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue ! a' 
 pour'd a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This 
 same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester. 
 
 Ham. This? 
 
 First Clo. E'en that. 
 
 Ham. Let- me see. [Takes the skull.'] Alas, poor 
 Yorick ! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite 
 jest, of most excellent fancy : he hath borne me on 
 his back a thousand times ; and now, how T abhorred 
 in my imagination it is ! my gorge rises at it. Here 
 hung those lips that I have kissed I know r not how 
 oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? 
 your songs? your flashes of merriment, that w r ere 
 wont to set the table on a roar ? Not one now, to 
 mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen ? Now 
 get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her 
 paint an inch thick, to this favor she must come ; 
 make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me 
 one thing. 
 
 Hor. What 's that, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this 
 fashion i' the earth ? 
 
 Hor. E'en so. 
 
 Ham. And smelt so ? pah ! [Puts down the skull. 
 
 Hor. E'en so, my lord. 
 
 Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio ! 
 Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of 
 Alexander, till he finding it stopping a bung-hole? 
 
 Hor. 'T were to consider too curiously, to consider 
 
 BO. 
 
 Ham. No, faith, not a jot ; but to follow him 
 thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead 
 it: as thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried, 
 Alexander returneth into dust ; the dust is earth ; of 
 earth we make loam ; and why of that loam, whereto 
 he was converted, might they not stop a beer- 
 barrel ? 
 
 Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, 
 Might stop a hole to keep the wind away : 
 O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, 
 
98 HAMLET. 
 
 Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw I 
 But soft ! but soft ! aside : here comes the king, 
 
 Enter Priests, etc., in procession ; the Corpse of Ophe- 
 lia, Laertes, and Mourners following ; King, 
 Queen, their trains, etc. 
 
 The queen, the courtiers : who is this they follow ? 
 And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken 
 The corse they follow did with desperate hand 
 Fordo its own life : 't was of some estate. 
 Couch we awhile, and mark. [Retiring with Horatio. 
 
 Laer. What ceremony else ? 
 
 Ham. That is Laertes, 
 
 A very noble youth : mark. 
 
 Laer. What ceremony else ? 
 
 First Priest. Her obsequies have been as far en- 
 larged 
 As we have warrantise ; her death was doubtful ; 
 And, but that great command o'ersways the order, 
 She should in ground unsanctified have lodged 
 Till the last trumpet : for charitable prayers, 
 Shards, flints and pebbles should be thrown on her: 
 Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants, 
 Her maiden strewments and the bringing home 
 Of bell and burial. 
 
 Laer. Must there no more be done ? 
 
 First Priest. No more be done : 
 
 We should profane the service of the dead 
 To sing a requiem and such rest to her 
 As to peace-parted souls. 
 
 Laer. Lay her i' the earth : 
 
 And from her fair and unpolluted flesh 
 May violets spring ! I tell thee, churlish priest, 
 A ministering angel shall my sister be, 
 When thou liest howling. 
 
 Ham. What, the fair Ophelia ! 
 
 Queen. Sweets to the sweet: farewell ! 
 
 [Scattering flowers, 
 I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife ; 
 I thought thy bridal to have decked, sweet maid, 
 And not have strew'd thy grave. 
 
ACT V. SCENE I. 99 
 
 Laer. O, treble woe 
 
 Fall ten times treble on that cursed head, 
 Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense 
 Deprived thee off! Hold off the earth awhile, 
 Till I have caught her once more in mine arms : 
 
 [Leaps into the grave. 
 Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead, 
 Till of this flat a mountain you have made, 
 T' o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head 
 Of blue Olympus. 
 
 Ham. [Advancing] What is he whose grief 
 Bears such an emphasis ? whose phrase of sorrow 
 Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them 
 
 stand 
 Like wonder-wounded hearers ? This is I, 
 Hamlet the Dane. [Leaps into the grave. 
 
 Laer. The devil take thy soul ! 
 
 [Grappling with him. 
 
 Ham. Thou pray'st not well. 
 I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat ; 
 For, though I am not splenitive and rash, 
 Yet have I something in me dangerous, 
 Which let thy wisdom fear : hold off thy hand. 
 
 King. Pluck them asunder. 
 
 Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet ! 
 
 All. Gentlemen, — 
 
 Hor. Good my lord, be quiet. 
 
 [The Attendants part them, and they come out of the 
 
 grave. 
 
 Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme 
 Until my eyelids will no longer wag. 
 
 Queen. O my son, what theme? 
 
 Ham. I loved Ophelia : forty thousand brothers 
 Could not, with all their quantity of love, 
 Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her? 
 
 King. 0, he is mad, Laertes. 
 
 Queen. Fur love of God, forbear him. 
 
 Ham. 'Swounds, show me what thou 'It do : 
 Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear 
 
 thyself? 
 Woo't drink up eisel ? eat a crocodile ? 
 
100 HAMLET. 
 
 I '11 do 't. Dost thou come here to whine ? 
 To outface me with leaping in her grave ? 
 Be buried quick with her, and so will I : 
 And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw 
 Millions of acres on us, till our ground, 
 Singeing his pate against the burning zone, 
 Make Ossa like a wart ! Nay, an thou 'It mouth, 
 I '11 rant as well as thou. 
 
 Queen. This is mere madness : 
 
 And thus awhile the fit will work on him ; 
 Anon, as patient as the female dove, 
 When that her golden couplets are disclosed, 
 His silence will sit drooping. 
 
 Ham. Hear you, sir ; 
 
 What is the reason that you use me thus ? 
 I loved you ever : but it is no matter ; 
 Let Hercules himself do what he may, 
 The cat will mew and dog will have his day. [Exit. 
 
 King. I pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him. 
 
 [Exit Horatio. 
 [To Laertes"] Strengthen your patience in our last 
 
 night's speech ; 
 We '11 put the matter to the present push. 
 Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son. 
 This grave shall have a living monument : 
 An hour of quiet shortly shall we see ; 
 Till then, in patience our proceeding be. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. A hall in the castle. 
 Enter Hamlet and Horatio. 
 
 Ham. So much for this, sir : now shall you see the 
 other ; 
 You do remember all the circumstance ? 
 
 Hor. Remember it, my lord ! 
 
 Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fight- 
 ing, 
 That would not let me sleep : methought I lay 
 Worse than the mutines in the bilboes. Rashly, 
 And praised be rashness for it, let us know, 
 Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, 
 
ACT V. — SCENE II. 101 
 
 When our deep plots do pall : and that should teach 
 
 us 
 There 's a divinity that shapes our ends, 
 Eough-hew them how we will, — 
 
 Hor. That is most certain. 
 
 Ham. Up from my cabin, 
 My sea-gown scarf d about me, in the dark 
 Groped I to find out them ; had my desire, 
 Finger'd their packet, and in fine withdrew 
 To mine own room again ; making so bold, 
 My fears forgetting manners, to unseal 
 Their grand commission ; where I found, Horatio, — 
 
 royal knavery ! — an exact command, 
 Larded with many several sorts of reasons 
 Importing Denmark's health and England's too, 
 With, ho ! such bugs and goblins in my life, 
 That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, 
 
 No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, 
 My head should be struck off. 
 
 Hor. Is 't possible ? 
 
 Ham. Here's the commission: read it at more 
 leisure. 
 But wilt thou hear me how I did proceed? 
 
 Hor. I beseech you. 
 
 Ham. Being thus be-netted round with villanies, — 
 Ere I could make a prologue to^my brains, 
 They had begun the play — I sat me down, 
 Devised a new commission, wrote it fair : 
 
 1 once did hold it, as our statists do, 
 
 A baseness to write fair, and labor'd much 
 How to forget that learning, but, sir, now 
 It did me yeoman's service: wilt thou know 
 The effect of what I wrote ? 
 
 Hor. Ay, good my lord. 
 
 Ham. An earnest conjuration from the king, 
 As England was his faithful tributary, 
 As iove between them like the palm might flourish, 
 As peace should still her wh eaten garland wear 
 And stand a comma 'tween their amities, 
 And many such-like 'As'es of great charge, 
 That, on the view and knowing of these contents, 
 
102 HAMLET. 
 
 Without debatement further, more or less, 
 He should the bearers put to sudden death, 
 Not shriving-time allow'd. 
 
 Hor. How was this seal'd? 
 
 Ham. Why, even in that was heaven ordinant. 
 I had rny father's signet in my purse, 
 Which was the model of that Danish seal ; 
 Folded the writ up in form of the other, 
 Subscribed it, gave 't the impression, placed it safely, 
 The changeling never known. Now, the next day 
 Was our sea-fight ; and what to this was sequent 
 Thou know'st already. 
 
 Hor. So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to 't. 
 
 Ham. Why, man, they did make love to this em- 
 ployment ; 
 They are not near my conscience ; their defeat 
 Does by their own insinuation grow T ; 
 'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes 
 Between the pass and fell incensed points 
 Of mighty opposites. 
 
 Hor. Why what a king is this ! 
 
 Ham. Does it not, thinks 't thee, stand me now 
 upon — 
 He that hath kill'd my king, debased my mother, 
 Popp'd in between the election and my hopes, 
 Thrown out his angle. for my proper life, 
 And with such cozenage — is 't not perfect con- 
 science, 
 To quit him with this arm ? and is 't not to be 
 
 damned, 
 To let this canker of our nature come 
 In further evil ? 
 
 Hor. It must be shortly known to him from En- 
 gland 
 What is the issue of the business there. 
 
 Ham. It will be short : the interim is mine ; 
 And a man's life 's no more than to say ' One.' 
 But I am very sorry, good Horatio, 
 That to Laertes I forgot myself; 
 For, by the image of my cause, I see 
 The portraiture of his : I '11 court his favors: 
 
ACT V. — SCENE II. 103 
 
 But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me 
 Into a towering passion. 
 
 Hor. Peace ! who comes here ? 
 
 Enter Osric. 
 
 Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back to Den- 
 mark. 
 
 Ham. I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this 
 water fly ? 
 
 Hor. No, my good lord. 
 
 Ham. Thy state is the more gracious ; for 't is a 
 vice to know him. He hath much land, and fertile : 
 let a beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand 
 at the king's mess: 'tis a chough ; but as I say, spa- 
 cious in the possession of dirt. 
 
 Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I 
 should impart a thing to you from his majesty. 
 
 Ham. I will receive, sir, with all diligence of spirit. 
 Put your bonnet to his right use ; 't is for the head. 
 
 Osr. I thank your lordship, it is very hot. 
 
 Ham. No, believe me, 'tis very cold ; the wind is 
 northerly. 
 
 Osr. It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed. 
 
 Ham. But yet raethinks it is very sultry and hot 
 for my complexion. 
 
 Osr. Exceedingly, my lord ; it is very sultry, — as 
 *t were, — I can not tell h -w. But, my lord, his 
 majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a 
 great wager on your head : sir, this is the matter, — 
 
 Ham. I beseech you, remember — 
 
 [Hamlet moves him to put on his hat. 
 
 Osr. Nay, good mv lord ; for mine ease, in good 
 faith. Sir, here is newly come to court Laertes ; be- 
 lieve me, an absolute gentleman, full of must excel- 
 lent differences, of very soft society and great show- 
 ing: indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card 
 or calendar of gentry, for you shall find in him the 
 continent of what part a gentleman would see. 
 
 Ham. Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in 
 you; though, I know, to divide him inventorially 
 would dizzy the arithmetic of memory, and yet but 
 
104 HAMLET. 
 
 y|w neither, in respect of his quick sail. But, in 
 the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of 
 great article ; and his infusion of such dearth and 
 rareness, as, to make true diction of him, his sem- 
 blable is his mirror ; and who else would trace 
 him, his umbrage, nothing more. 
 
 Osr. Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him. 
 
 Ham. The concernancy, sir? why do we wrap the 
 gentleman in our more rawer breath ? 
 
 Osr. Sir. 
 
 Hor. Is't not possible to understand in another 
 tongue? You will do 't, sir, really. 
 
 Ham. What imports the nomination of this gentle- 
 man ? 
 
 Osr. Of Laertes ? 
 
 Hor. His purse is empty already ; all 's golden 
 words are spent. 
 
 Ham Of him, sir. 
 
 Osr. I know you are not ignorant — 
 
 Ham. I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you 
 did, it would not much approve me. Well, sir? 
 
 Osr. You are not ignorant of what excellence 
 Laertes is — 
 
 Ham. I dare not confess that, lest I should com- 
 pare with him in excellence ; but, to know a man 
 well, were to know himself. 
 
 Osr. I mean, sir, for his weapon ; but in the im- 
 putation laid on him by them, in his meed he 's un- 
 fellowed. 
 
 Ham. What's his weapon? 
 
 Osr. Rapier and dagger. 
 
 Ham. That's two of his weapons: but, well. 
 
 Osr. The king, sir, hath wagered with him six Bar- 
 bary horses ; against the which he has imponed, as I 
 take it, six French rapiers and poniards, with their 
 assigns, as girdle, hangers, and so : three of the car- 
 riages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, very respon- 
 sive to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of very 
 liberal conceit. 
 
 Ham. What call you the carriages ? 
 
ACT V. — SCENE II. 105 
 
 Hor. I knew you must be edified by the m argent 
 ere you had done. 
 
 Osr. The carriages, sir, are the hangers. 
 
 Ham. The phrase would be more german to the 
 matter, if we could carry cannon by our sides : I 
 would it might be hangers till then. But, on : six 
 Barbary horses against six French swords, their as- 
 signs, and three liberal conceited carriages; that's 
 the French bet against the Danish. Why is this 
 ' imponed,' as you call it ? 
 
 Osr. The king, sir, hath laid, that in a dozen 
 passes between yourself and him, he shall not ex- 
 ceed you three hits : he hath laid on twelve for 
 nine ; and it would come to immediate trial, if your 
 lordship would vouchsafe the answer, 
 
 Ham. How if I answer ' no ' ? 
 
 Osr. I mean, my lord, the opposition of your per- 
 son in trial. 
 
 Ham. Sir, I will walk here in the hall : if it please 
 his majesty, 'tis the breathing time of day with 
 me ; let the foils be brought, the gentleman willing, 
 and the king hold his purpose, I will win for him an 
 I can ; if not, I will gain nothing but my shame and 
 the odd hits, 
 
 Osr. Shall I re-deliver you e'en so ? 
 
 Ham. To this effect, sir ; after what flourish your 
 nature will. 
 
 Osr. I commend my duty to your lordship. 
 
 Ham. Yours, yours. [Exit Osric.'] He does well 
 to commend it himself; there are no tongues else 
 for 's turn. 
 
 Hor. This lapwing runs away with the shell on his 
 head. 
 
 Ham. Thus has he — and many more of the same 
 bevy that I know the drossy age dotes on — only got 
 the tune of the time and outward habit of encoun- 
 ter ; a kind of yesty collection, which carries them 
 through and through the most fanned and winnowed 
 opinions; and do but blow them to their trial, the 
 bubbles are out. 
 
106 HAMLET. 
 
 Enter a Lord. 
 
 Lord. My lord, his majesty commended him to 
 you by young Osric, who brings back to him, that 
 you attend him in the hall : he sends to know if 
 your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you 
 will take longer time. 
 
 Ham. I am constant to my purposes ; they follow 
 the king's pleasure : if his fitness speaks, mine is 
 ready ; now or whensoever, provided I be so able as 
 now. 
 
 Lord. The king and queen are all coming down. 
 
 Ham. In happy time. 
 
 Lord. The queen desires you to use some gentle 
 entertainment to Laertes before you fall to play. 
 
 Ham. She well instructs me. [Exit Lord. 
 
 Hor. You will lose this wager, my lord. 
 
 Ham. I do not think so ; since he went into 
 France, I have been in continual practice ; I shall 
 win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how 
 ill all 's here about my heart : but it is no matter. 
 
 Hor. Nay, good my lord, — 
 
 Ham. It is but foolery ; but it is such a kind of 
 gain-giving, as would perhaps trouble a woman. 
 
 Hor. If your mind dislike anything, obey it : I 
 will forestall their repair hither, and say you are 
 not fit. 
 
 Ham. Not a whit, we defy augury : there 's a spe- 
 cial providence in the fall of a sparow. 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 has aught of what he leaves, w r hat 
 is 't to leave betimes? 
 
 Enter King, Queen, Laertes, Lords, Osric, and At- 
 tendants, with foils, etc. 
 
 King. Come, Hamlet, come, and take th : s hand 
 from me. 
 
 [ The king puts Laertes' hand into Hamlet's. 
 Ham. Give me your pardon, sir: I've done you 
 wrong ; 
 But pardon 't, as you are a gentleman. 
 
ACT V. — SCENE II. 107 
 
 This presence knows. 
 
 And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd 
 
 With sore distraction. What I have done, 
 
 That might your nature, honor and exception 
 
 Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness. 
 
 Was 't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes ? Never Hamlet : 
 
 If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away, 
 
 And when he \s not himself 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 faction that is wrong'd ; 
 
 His madness is 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 arrow o'er the house, 
 
 And hurt my brother. 
 
 Laer. I am satisfied in nature, 
 
 Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most 
 To my revenge : but in my terms of honor 
 I stand aloof ; and will no reconcilement, 
 Till by some elder masters, of known honor, 
 I have a voice and precedent of peace, 
 To keep my name ungored. But till that time, 
 I do receive your offer'd love like love, 
 And w T ill not wrong it. 
 
 Ham. I embrace it freely ; 
 
 And will this brother's wager frankly play. 
 Give us the foils. Come on. 
 
 Laer. Come, one for me. 
 
 Ham. I '11 be your foil, Laertes : in mine igno- 
 rance 
 Your skill shall, like a star i' the darkest night, 
 Stick fiery off indeed. 
 
 Laer. You mock me, sir. 
 
 Ham. Xo, by this hand. 
 
 King. Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin 
 Hamlet, 
 You know the wager ? 
 
 Ham. Very well, my lord ; 
 
 Your grace hath laid the odds o' the weaker side. 
 
108 HAMLET. 
 
 King. I do not fear it; I have seen you both: 
 But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds. 
 
 Laer. This is too heavy, let me see another. 
 
 Ham. This likes me well. These foils have all a 
 length ? [ They prepare to play* 
 
 Osr. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 King. . et me the stoups of wine upon that table. 
 If Hamlet give the first or second hit, 
 Or quit in answer of the third exchange, 
 Let all the battlements their ordnance fire: 
 The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath ; 
 And in the cup an union shall he throw, 
 Richer than that which four successive kings 
 In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups ; 
 And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, 
 The trumpet to the cannoneer without, 
 The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth, 
 ' Now the king drinks to Hamlet.' Come, begin : 
 And you, the judges, bear a wary eye. 
 
 Ham. Come on, sir. 
 
 Laer. Come, my lord. [They play. 
 
 Ham. One. 
 
 Laer. No. 
 
 Ham. • Judgment- 
 
 Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit. 
 
 Laer. Weil ; again. 
 
 King. Stay ; give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is 
 thine ; 
 Here 's to thy health. 
 
 [Trumpets sound and cannon shot off within. 
 Give him the cup. 
 
 Ham. I '11 play this bout first ; set it by awhile. 
 Come. [They play.] Another hit; what say you? 
 
 Laer. A touch, a touch, I do confess. 
 
 King. Our son shall win. 
 
 Queen. He 's fat, and scant of breath, 
 
 Here Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows : 
 The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. Good madam ! 
 
 King. Gertrude, do not drink. 
 
 Queen. I will, my lord ; I pray you, pardon me. 
 
ACT V. — SGENE II. 109 
 
 King. [Aside} It is the poison'd cup : it is too late. 
 
 Ham. I dare not drink yet, madam ; by and by. 
 
 ■Queen. Come, let me wipe thy face. 
 
 Laer. My lord, I '11 hit him now. 
 
 King. I do not think 't. 
 
 Laer. [Aside] And yet 't is almost 'gainst my con- 
 science. 
 
 Ram. Come, for the third, Laertes : you but dally ; 
 I pray you, pass with your best violence : 
 I am afeard you make a wanton of me. 
 
 Laer. Say you so? come on. [They play. 
 
 Osr. Nothing, neither way. 
 
 Laer. Have at you now ! 
 
 [Laertes wounds Hamlet; then, in scuffling, they 
 change rapiers, and Hamlet wounds Laertes. 
 
 King. Part them ; they are incensed. 
 
 Ham. Nay, come again. [The Queen falls. 
 
 Osr. Look to the queen there, ho ! 
 
 Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is it, my 
 lord? 
 
 Osr. How 7 is 't, Laertes ? 
 
 Laer. Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, 
 Osric ; 
 I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery. 
 
 Ham. How does the queen? 
 
 King. She s wounds to see them bleed. 
 
 Queen. No, no, the drink, the drink, — my dear 
 Hamlet, — 
 The drink, the drink ! I am poison'd. [Dies. 
 
 Ham. villany ! Ho ! let the door be lock'd : 
 Treachery ! Seek it out. 
 
 Laer. It is here, Hamlet : Hamlet, thou art slain ; 
 No medicine in the world can do thee good ; 
 In thee there is not half an hour of life ; 
 The treacherons instrument is in thy hand, 
 Unbated and envenom'd; the foul practice 
 Hath turn'd itself on me ; lo, here I lie, 
 Never to rise again : thy mother 's poison'd : 
 I can no more : the king, the king 's to blame. 
 
 Ha7n. The point envenom'd too ! 
 Then, venom, to thy work. [Stabs the King. 
 
110 HAMLET. 
 
 All. Treason ! treason ! 
 
 King. O, yet defend me, friends. I am but hurt. 
 
 Ham. Here, thou murderous, damned Dane, 
 Drink off this potion. Is thy union here ? 
 Follow my mother. [King dies. 
 
 Laer. He is justly served ; 
 
 It is a poison temper'd by himself. 
 Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet : 
 Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, 
 Nor thine on me ! [Dies. 
 
 Ham. Heaven make thee free of it ! I follow 
 thee. 
 I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu ! 
 You that look pale and tremble at this chance, 
 That are but mutes or audience to this act, 
 Had I but time — as this fell sergeant, death, 
 Is strict in his arrest — 0, I could tell you — 
 But let it be. Horatio, I am dead ; 
 Thou livest ; report me and my cause aright 
 To the unsatisfied. 
 
 Hor. Never believe it : 
 
 I am more an antique Roman than a Dane : 
 Here 's yet some liquor left. 
 
 Ham. As thou'rt a man, 
 
 Give me the cup : let go ; by heaven, I '11 have 't. 
 
 good Horatio, what a wounded name, 
 
 Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind 
 
 me ! 
 If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, 
 Absent thee from felicity awhile, 
 And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, 
 To tell my story. 
 
 [March afar off, and shot within. 
 What warlike noise is this? 
 Osr. Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from 
 Poland, 
 To the ambassadors of England gives 
 This warlike volley. 
 
 Ham. 0, I die, Horatio; 
 
 The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit : 
 
 1 can not live to hear the news from England ; 
 
ACT V. — SCENE II. Ill 
 
 But I do prophesy the election lights 
 
 On Fortinbras ; he has my dying voice ; 
 
 So tell him, with the occurrents, more or less, 
 
 Which have solicited. [Dies. 
 
 ' Hor. The rest is silence. 
 Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet 
 
 prince ; 
 And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest ! 
 Why does the drum come hither? [March within. 
 
 Enter Fortinbras, the English Ambassadors, and 
 
 others. 
 
 Fort. Where is this sight ? 
 
 Hor. What is it ye would see ? 
 
 If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search. 
 
 Fort. This quarry cries on havoc. proud death, 
 What feast is toward in thine eternal cell, 
 That thou so many princes at a shot 
 So bloodily hast struck ? 
 
 First Arab. The sight is dismal ; 
 
 And our affairs from England come too late : 
 The ears are senseless that should give us hearing 
 To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd, 
 That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead : 
 Where should we have our thanks? 
 
 Hor. Not from his mouth, 
 
 Had it the ability of life to thank you: 
 He never gave commandment for their death. 
 But since, so jump upon this bloody question, 
 You from the Polack wars, and you from England, 
 Are here arrived, give order that these bodies 
 High on a stage be placed to the view ; 
 And let me speak to th' yet unknowing world 
 How these things came 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 
 Fall'n on the inventors' heads: all this can I 
 Truly deliver. 
 
 Fort. Let us haste to hear it, 
 
112 HAMLET. 
 
 And call the noblest to the audience. 
 
 For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune : 
 
 I have some rights of memory in this kingdom, 
 
 "Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me. 
 Hor. Of that I shall have also cause to speak. 
 
 And from his mouth whose voice will draw on 
 more : 
 
 But let this same be presently perform'd, 
 
 . ven while men's minds are wild : lest more mis- 
 chance, 
 
 On plots and errors, happen. 
 
 Fori. Let four captains 
 
 Bear Hamlet", like a soldier, to the stage ; 
 
 For he was likely, had he been put on, 
 
 To have proved most royally : and, for his passage, 
 
 The soldiers' music and the rites of war 
 
 Speak loudly for him. 
 
 Take up the bodies : such a sight as this 
 
 Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss. 
 
 Go, bid the soldiers shoot. 
 
 [A dead March. Exeunt, bearing off the dead bodies ; 
 after which a peal of ordnance is shot off. 
 
€$puv%<xtib ■ 3Ee£te • for • ^cijoote • 5amil'ic« • and 
 IReaMna, • €hii>B 
 
 HAMLET. 
 
 Prince of Denmark 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 EDITED BV 
 
 A. C. PENDLETON. 
 
 ' juages and English Literaturein Bethany 
 
 College, West Virginia. 
 
 CINCINNATI 
 STANDARD PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 18' 
 
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