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A Room of State in the Castle. | |
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Enter the KING, QUEEN, HAMLET, POLONIUS, LAERTES, VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, Lords, and Attendants. | |
King. Thought yet of Hamlet our dear brothers death | |
The memory be green, and that it us befitted | |
To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom | 5 |
To be contracted in one brow of woe, | |
Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature | |
That we with wisest sorrow think on him, | |
Together with remembrance of ourselves. | |
Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, | 10 |
The imperial jointress of this war-like state, | |
Have we, as twere with a defeated joy, | |
With one auspicious and one dropping eye, | |
With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage, | |
In equal scale weighing delight and dole, | 15 |
Taken to wife: nor have we herein barrd | |
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, | 20 |
Or thinking by our late dear brothers death | |
Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, | |
Colleagued with the dream of his advantage, | |
He hath not faild to pester us with message, | |
Importing the surrender of those lands | 25 |
Lost by his father, with all bands 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, | 30 |
Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears | |
Of this his nephews purpose, to suppress | |
His further gait herein; in that the levies, | |
The lists and full proportions, are all made | |
Out of his subject; and we here dispatch | 35 |
You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand, | |
For bearers of this greeting to old Norway, | |
Giving to you no further personal power | |
To business with the king more than the scope | |
Of these delated articles allow. | 40 |
Farewell and let your haste commend your duty. | |
Cor. & Vol. In that and all things will we show our duty. | |
King. We doubt it nothing: heartily farewell. [Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS. | |
And now, Laertes, whats the news with you? | |
You told us of some suit; what is t, Laertes? | 45 |
You cannot 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, | 50 |
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. | |
What wouldst thou have, Laertes? | |
Laer. Dread my lord, | |
Your leave and favour to return to France; | |
From whence though willingly I came to Denmark, | 55 |
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 fathers leave? What says Polonius? | 60 |
Pol. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave | |
By laboursome petition, and at last | |
Upon his will I seald my hard consent: | |
I do beseech you, give him leave to go. | |
King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine, | 65 |
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. | 70 |
Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, | |
And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. | |
Do not for ever with thy vailed lids | |
Seek for thy noble father in the dust: | |
Thou knowst tis common; all that live must die, | 75 |
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. | 80 |
Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, | |
Nor customary suits of solemn black, | |
Nor windy suspiration of forcd breath, | |
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, | |
Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, | 85 |
Together with all forms, modes, shows 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. | 90 |
King. Tis 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 | 95 |
To do obsequious sorrow; but to presever | |
In obstinate condolement is a course | |
Of impious stubbornness; tis unmanly grief: | |
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, | |
A heart unfortified, a mind impatient, | 100 |
An understanding simple and unschoold: | |
For what we know must be and is as common | |
As any the most vulgar thing to sense, | |
Why should we in our peevish opposition | |
Take it to heart? Fie! tis a fault to heaven, | 105 |
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 | 110 |
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; | |
And with no less nobility of love | |
Than that which dearest father bears his son | 115 |
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, | 120 |
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son. | |
Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet: | |
I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg. | |
Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam. | |
King. Why, tis a loving and a fair reply: | 125 |
Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come; | |
This gentle and unforcd 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, | 130 |
And the kings rouse the heavens shall bruit again, | |
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away. [Exeunt all except HAMLET. | |
Ham. O! that this too too solid flesh would melt, | |
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew; | |
Or that the Everlasting had not fixd | 135 |
His canon gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God! | |
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable | |
Seem to me all the uses of this world. | |
Fie on t! O fie! tis an unweeded garden, | |
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature | 140 |
Possess it merely. That it should come to this! | |
But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: | |
So excellent a king; that was, to this, | |
Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother | |
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven | 145 |
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 what it fed on; and yet, within a month, | |
Let me not think on t: Frailty, thy name is woman! | 150 |
A little month; or ere those shoes were old | |
With which she followd my poor fathers body, | |
Like Niobe, all tears; why she, even she, | |
O God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, | |
Would have mournd longer,married with mine uncle, | 155 |
My fathers brother, but no more like my father | |
Than I to Hercules: within a month, | |
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears | |
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, | |
She married. O! most wicked speed, to post | 160 |
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets. | |
It is not nor it cannot come to good; | |
But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue! | |
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Enter HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO. | |
Hor. Hail to your lordship! | 165 |
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; Ill change that name with you. | |
And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? | 170 |
Marcellus? | |
Mar. My good lord, | |
Ham. I am very glad to see you. [To BERNARDO.] Good even, sir. | |
But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg? | |
Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord. | 175 |
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 you are no truant. | |
But what is your affair in Elsinore? | 180 |
Well teach you to drink deep ere you depart. | |
Hor. My lord, I came to see your fathers funeral. | |
Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student; | |
I think it was to see my mothers wedding. | |
Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followd hard upon. | 185 |
Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bakd meats | |
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. | |
Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven | |
Ere I had ever seen that day, Horatio! | |
My father, methinks I see my father. | 190 |
Hor. O! where, my lord? | |
Ham. In my minds eye, Horatio. | |
Hor. I saw him once; he was a goodly king. | |
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all, | |
I shall not look upon his like again. | 195 |
Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight. | |
Ham. Saw who? | |
Hor. My lord, the king your father. | |
Ham. The king, my father! | |
Hor. Season your admiration for a while | 200 |
With an attent ear, till I may deliver, | |
Upon the witness of these gentlemen, | |
This marvel to you. | |
Ham. For Gods love, let me hear. | |
Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen, | 205 |
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, | |
In the dead vast and middle of the night, | |
Been thus encounterd: a figure like your father, | |
Armed at points exactly, cap-a-pe, | |
Appears before them, and with solemn march | 210 |
Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walkd | |
By their oppressd and fear-surprised eyes, | |
Within his truncheons length; whilst they, distilld | |
Almost to jelly with the act of fear, | |
Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me | 215 |
In dreadful secrecy impart they did, | |
And I with them the third night kept the watch; | |
Where, as they had deliverd, both in time, | |
Form of the thing, each word made true and good, | |
The apparition comes. I knew your father; | 220 |
These hands are not more like. | |
Ham. But where was this? | |
Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we watchd. | |
Ham. Did you not speak to it? | |
Hor. My lord, I did; | 225 |
But answer made it none; yet once methought | |
It lifted up its head and did address | |
Itself to motion, like as it would speak; | |
But even then the morning cock crew loud, | |
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away | 230 |
And vanishd from our sight. | |
Ham. Tis very strange. | |
Hor. As I do live, my honourd lord, tis true; | |
And we did think it writ down in our duty | |
To let you know of it. | 235 |
Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. | |
Hold you the watch to-night? | |
Mar. & Ber. We do, my lord. | |
Ham. Armd, say you? | |
Mar. & Ber. Armd, my lord. | 240 |
Ham. From top to toe? | |
Mar. & Ber. My lord, from head to foot. | |
Ham. Then saw you not his face? | |
Hor. O yes! my lord; he wore his beaver up. | |
Ham. What! lookd he frowningly? | 245 |
Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. | |
Ham. Pale or red? | |
Hor. Nay, very pale. | |
Ham. And fixd his eyes upon you? | |
Hor. Most constantly. | 250 |
Ham. I would I had been there. | |
Hor. It would have much amazd you. | |
Ham. Very like, very like. Stayd it long? | |
Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred. | |
Mar. & Ber. Longer, longer. | 255 |
Hor. Not when I saw it. | |
Ham. His beard was grizzled, no? | |
Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, | |
A sable silverd. | |
Ham. I will watch to-night; | 260 |
Perchance twill walk again. | |
Hor. I warrant it will. | |
Ham. If it assume my noble fathers person, | |
Ill speak to it, though hell itself should gape | |
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, | 265 |
If you have hitherto conceald 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. | 270 |
Upon the platform, twixt eleven and twelve, | |
Ill visit you. | |
All. Our duty to your honour. | |
Ham. Your loves, as mine to you. Farewell. [Exeunt HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO. | |
My fathers spirit in arms! all is not well; | 275 |
I doubt some foul play: would the night were come! | |
Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise, | |
Though all the earth oerwhelm them, to mens eyes. [Exit. | |
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