Rosin. Faith there ha's bene much to do on both sides: and the Nation holds it no sinne, to tarre them to Controuersie. There was for a while, no mony bid for argument, vnlesse the Poet and the Player went to Cuffes in the Question
Ham. Is't possible?Guild. Oh there ha's beene much throwing about ofBraines
Ham. Do the Boyes carry it away?Rosin. I that they do my Lord. Hercules & his load too
Ham. It is not strange: for mine Vnckle is King of Denmarke, and those that would make mowes at him while my Father liued; giue twenty, forty, an hundred Ducates a peece, for his picture in Little. There is something in this more then Naturall, if Philosophie could finde it out.
Flourish for the Players.
Guil. There are the Players
Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcom to Elsonower: your hands, come: The appurtenance of Welcome, is Fashion and Ceremony. Let me comply with you in the Garbe, lest my extent to the Players (which I tell you must shew fairely outward) should more appeare like entertainment then yours. You are welcome: but my Vnckle Father, and Aunt Mother are deceiu'd
Guil. In what my deere Lord?Ham. I am but mad North, North-West: when theWinde is Southerly, I know a Hawke from a Handsaw.Enter Polonius.
Pol. Well be with you Gentlemen
Ham. Hearke you Guildensterne, and you too: at each eare a hearer: that great Baby you see there, is not yet out of his swathing clouts
Rosin. Happily he's the second time come to them: for they say, an old man is twice a childe
Ham. I will Prophesie. Hee comes to tell me of the Players. Mark it, you say right Sir: for a Monday morning 'twas so indeed
Pol. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you
Ham. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you.When Rossius an Actor in Rome-Pol. The Actors are come hither my Lord
Ham. Buzze, buzze
Pol. Vpon mine Honor
Ham. Then can each Actor on his Asse- Polon. The best Actors in the world, either for Tragedie, Comedie, Historie, Pastorall: Pastoricall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall: Tragicall-Historicall: Tragicall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall: Scene indiuidible: or Poem vnlimited. Seneca cannot be too heauy, nor Plautus too light, for the law of Writ, and the Liberty. These are the onely men
Ham. O Iephta Iudge of Israel, what a Treasure had'stthou?Pol. What a Treasure had he, my Lord?Ham. Why one faire Daughter, and no more,The which he loued passing well
Pol. Still on my Daughter
Ham. Am I not i'th' right old Iephta?Polon. If you call me Iephta my Lord, I haue a daughterthat I loue passing well
Ham. Nay that followes not
Polon. What followes then, my Lord?Ha. Why, As by lot, God wot: and then you know, Itcame to passe, as most like it was: The first rowe of thePons Chanson will shew you more. For looke where myAbridgements come.Enter foure or fiue Players.
Y'are welcome Masters, welcome all. I am glad to see thee well: Welcome good Friends. Oh my olde Friend? Thy face is valiant since I saw thee last: Com'st thou to beard me in Denmarke? What, my yong Lady and Mistris? Byrlady your Ladiship is neerer Heauen then when I saw you last, by the altitude of a Choppine. Pray God your voice like a peece of vncurrant Gold be not crack'd within the ring. Masters, you are all welcome: wee'l e'ne to't like French Faulconers, flie at any thing we see: wee'l haue a Speech straight. Come giue vs a tast of your quality: come, a passionate speech
1.Play. What speech, my Lord? Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was neuer Acted: or if it was, not aboue once, for the Play I remember pleas'd not the Million, 'twas Cauiarie to the Generall: but it was (as I receiu'd it, and others, whose iudgement in such matters, cried in the top of mine) an excellent Play; well digested in the Scoenes, set downe with as much modestie, as cunning. I remember one said, there was no Sallets in the lines, to make the matter sauory; nor no matter in the phrase, that might indite the Author of affectation, but cal'd it an honest method. One cheefe Speech in it, I cheefely lou'd, 'twas Aeneas Tale to Dido, and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priams slaughter. If it liue in your memory, begin at this Line, let me see, let me see: The rugged Pyrrhus like th'Hyrcanian Beast. It is not so: it begins with Pyrrhus The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose Sable Armes Blacke as his purpose, did the night resemble When he lay couched in the Ominous Horse, Hath now this dread and blacke Complexion smear'd With Heraldry more dismall: Head to foote Now is he to take Geulles, horridly Trick'd With blood of Fathers, Mothers, Daughters, Sonnes, Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets, That lend a tyrannous, and damned light To their vilde Murthers, roasted in wrath and fire, And thus o're-sized with coagulate gore, With eyes like Carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus Olde Grandsire Priam seekes
Pol. Fore God, my Lord, well spoken, with good accent,and good discretion
1.Player. Anon he findes him,Striking too short at Greekes. His anticke Sword,Rebellious to his Arme, lyes where it fallesRepugnant to command: vnequall match,Pyrrhus at Priam driues, in Rage strikes wide:But with the whiffe and winde of his fell Sword,Th' vnnerued Father fals. Then senselesse Illium,Seeming to feele his blow, with flaming topStoopes to his Bace, and with a hideous crashTakes Prisoner Pyrrhus eare. For loe, his SwordWhich was declining on the Milkie headOf Reuerend Priam, seem'd i'th' Ayre to sticke:So as a painted Tyrant Pyrrhus stood,And like a Newtrall to his will and matter, did nothing.But as we often see against some storme,A silence in the Heauens, the Racke stand still,The bold windes speechlesse, and the Orbe belowAs hush as death: Anon the dreadfull ThunderDoth rend the Region. So after Pyrrhus pause,A rowsed Vengeance sets him new a-worke,And neuer did the Cyclops hammers fallOn Mars his Armours, forg'd for proofe Eterne,With lesse remorse then Pyrrhus bleeding swordNow falles on Priam.Out, out, thou Strumpet-Fortune, all you Gods,In generall Synod take away her power:Breake all the Spokes and Fallies from her wheele,And boule the round Naue downe the hill of Heauen,As low as to the Fiends
Pol. This is too long
Ham. It shall to'th Barbars, with your beard. Prythee say on: He's for a Iigge, or a tale of Baudry, or hee sleepes. Say on; come to Hecuba
1.Play. But who, O who, had seen the inobled Queen
Ham. The inobled Queene?Pol. That's good: Inobled Queene is good
1.Play. Run bare-foot vp and downe,Threatning the flameWith Bisson Rheume: A clout about that head,Where late the Diadem stood, and for a RobeAbout her lanke and all ore-teamed Loines,A blanket in th' Alarum of feare caught vp.Who this had seene, with tongue in Venome steep'd,'Gainst Fortunes State, would Treason haue pronounc'd?But if the Gods themselues did see her then,When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sportIn mincing with his Sword her Husbands limbes,The instant Burst of Clamour that she made(Vnlesse things mortall moue them not at all)Would haue made milche the Burning eyes of Heauen,And passion in the Gods
Pol. Looke where he ha's not turn'd his colour, andha's teares in's eyes. Pray you no more
Ham. 'Tis well, Ile haue thee speake out the rest, soone. Good my Lord, will you see the Players wel bestow'd. Do ye heare, let them be well vs'd: for they are the Abstracts and breefe Chronicles of the time. After your death, you were better haue a bad Epitaph, then their ill report while you liued
Pol. My Lord, I will vse them according to their desart
Ham. Gods bodykins man, better. Vse euerie man after his desart, and who should scape whipping: vse them after your own Honor and Dignity. The lesse they deserue, the more merit is in your bountie. Take them in
Pol. Come sirs.
Exit Polon.
Ham. Follow him Friends: wee'l heare a play to morrow.Dost thou heare me old Friend, can you play themurther of Gonzago?Play. I my Lord
Ham. Wee'l ha't to morrow night. You could for aneed study a speech of some dosen or sixteene lines, whichI would set downe, and insert in't? Could ye not?Play. I my Lord
Ham. Very well. Follow that Lord, and looke youmock him not. My good Friends, Ile leaue you til nightyou are welcome to Elsonower?Rosin. Good my Lord.
Exeunt.
Manet Hamlet.
Ham. I so, God buy'ye: Now I am alone.Oh what a Rogue and Pesant slaue am I?Is it not monstrous that this Player heere,But in a Fixion, in a dreame of Passion,Could force his soule so to his whole conceit,That from her working, all his visage warm'd;Teares in his eyes, distraction in's Aspect,A broken voyce, and his whole Function suitingWith Formes, to his Conceit? And all for nothing?For Hecuba?What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,That he should weepe for her? What would he doe,Had he the Motiue and the Cue for passionThat I haue? He would drowne the Stage with teares,And cleaue the generall eare with horrid speech:Make mad the guilty, and apale the free,Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed,The very faculty of Eyes and Eares. Yet I,A dull and muddy-metled Rascall, peakeLike Iohn a-dreames, vnpregnant of my cause,And can say nothing: No, not for a King,Vpon whose property, and most deere life,A damn'd defeate was made. Am I a Coward?Who calles me Villaine? breakes my pate a-crosse?Pluckes off my Beard, and blowes it in my face?Tweakes me by'th' Nose? giues me the Lye i'th' Throate,As deepe as to the Lungs? Who does me this?Ha? Why I should take it: for it cannot be,But I am Pigeon-Liuer'd, and lacke GallTo make Oppression bitter, or ere this,I should haue fatted all the Region KitesWith this Slaues Offall, bloudy: a Bawdy villaine,Remorselesse, Treacherous, Letcherous, kindles villaine!Oh Vengeance!Who? What an Asse am I? I sure, this is most braue,That I, the Sonne of the Deere murthered,Prompted to my Reuenge by Heauen, and Hell,Must (like a Whore) vnpacke my heart with words,And fall a Cursing like a very Drab.A Scullion? Fye vpon't: Foh. About my Braine.I haue heard, that guilty Creatures sitting at a Play,Haue by the very cunning of the Scoene,Bene strooke so to the soule, that presentlyThey haue proclaim'd their Malefactions.For Murther, though it haue no tongue, will speakeWith most myraculous Organ. Ile haue these Players,Play something like the murder of my Father,Before mine Vnkle. Ile obserue his lookes,Ile rent him to the quicke: If he but blenchI know my course. The Spirit that I haue seeneMay be the Diuell, and the Diuel hath powerT' assume a pleasing shape, yea and perhapsOut of my Weaknesse, and my Melancholly,As he is very potent with such Spirits,Abuses me to damne me. Ile haue groundsMore Relatiue then this: The Play's the thing,Wherein Ile catch the Conscience of the King.
Exit
Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance,Guildenstern, andLords.
King. And can you by no drift of circumstanceGet from him why he puts on this Confusion:Grating so harshly all his dayes of quietWith turbulent and dangerous Lunacy
Rosin. He does confesse he feeles himselfe distracted,But from what cause he will by no meanes speake
Guil. Nor do we finde him forward to be sounded,But with a crafty Madnesse keepes aloofe:When we would bring him on to some ConfessionOf his true state
Qu. Did he receiue you well?Rosin. Most like a Gentleman
Guild. But with much forcing of his disposition
Rosin. Niggard of question, but of our demandsMost free in his reply
Qu. Did you assay him to any pastime?Rosin. Madam, it so fell out, that certaine PlayersWe ore-wrought on the way: of these we told him,And there did seeme in him a kinde of ioyTo heare of it: They are about the Court,And (as I thinke) they haue already orderThis night to play before him
Pol. 'Tis most true:And he beseech'd me to intreate your MaiestiesTo heare, and see the matter
King. With all my heart, and it doth much content meTo heare him so inclin'd. Good Gentlemen,Giue him a further edge, and driue his purpose onTo these delights
Rosin. We shall my Lord.
Exeunt.
King. Sweet Gertrude leaue vs too,For we haue closely sent for Hamlet hither,That he, as 'twere by accident, may thereAffront Ophelia. Her Father, and my selfe (lawful espials)Will so bestow our selues, that seeing vnseeneWe may of their encounter frankely iudge,And gather by him, as he is behaued,If't be th' affliction of his loue, or no.That thus he suffers for
Qu. I shall obey you,And for your part Ophelia, I do wishThat your good Beauties be the happy causeOf Hamlets wildenesse: so shall I hope your VertuesWill bring him to his wonted way againe,To both your Honors
Ophe. Madam, I wish it may
Pol. Ophelia, walke you heere. Gracious so please yeWe will bestow our selues: Reade on this booke,That shew of such an exercise may colourYour lonelinesse. We are oft too blame in this,'Tis too much prou'd, that with Deuotions visage,And pious Action, we do surge o'reThe diuell himselfe
King. Oh 'tis true:How smart a lash that speech doth giue my Conscience?The Harlots Cheeke beautied with plaist'ring ArtIs not more vgly to the thing that helpes it,Then is my deede, to my most painted word.Oh heauie burthen!Pol. I heare him comming, let's withdraw my Lord.
Exeunt.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the Question:Whether 'tis Nobler in the minde to sufferThe Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune,Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles,And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepeNo more; and by a sleepe, to say we endThe Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockesThat Flesh is heyre too? 'Tis a consummationDeuoutly to be wish'd. To dye to sleepe,To sleepe, perchance to Dreame; I, there's the rub,For in that sleepe of death, what dreames may come,When we haue shuffel'd off this mortall coile,Must giue vs pawse. There's the respectThat makes Calamity of so long life:For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time,The Oppressors wrong, the poore mans Contumely,The pangs of dispriz'd Loue, the Lawes delay,The insolence of Office, and the SpurnesThat patient merit of the vnworthy takes,When he himselfe might his Quietus makeWith a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beareTo grunt and sweat vnder a weary life,But that the dread of something after death,The vndiscouered Countrey, from whose BorneNo Traueller returnes, Puzels the will,And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue,Then flye to others that we know not of.Thus Conscience does make Cowards of vs all,And thus the Natiue hew of ResolutionIs sicklied o're, with the pale cast of Thought,And enterprizes of great pith and moment,With this regard their Currants turne away,And loose the name of Action. Soft you now,The faire Ophelia? Nimph, in thy OrizonsBe all my sinnes remembred
Ophe. Good my Lord,How does your Honor for this many a day?Ham. I humbly thanke you: well, well, well
Ophe. My Lord, I haue Remembrances of yours,That I haue longed long to re-deliuer.I pray you now, receiue them
Ham. No, no, I neuer gaue you ought
Ophe. My honor'd Lord, I know right well you did,And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd,As made the things more rich, then perfume left:Take these againe, for to the Noble mindeRich gifts wax poore, when giuers proue vnkinde.There my Lord
Ham. Ha, ha: Are you honest?Ophe. My Lord
Ham. Are you faire?Ophe. What meanes your Lordship?Ham. That if you be honest and faire, your Honestyshould admit no discourse to your Beautie
Ophe. Could Beautie my Lord, haue better Comerce then your Honestie? Ham. I trulie: for the power of Beautie, will sooner transforme Honestie from what is, to a Bawd, then the force of Honestie can translate Beautie into his likenesse. This was sometime a Paradox, but now the time giues it proofe. I did loue you once
Ophe. Indeed my Lord, you made me beleeue so
Ham. You should not haue beleeued me. For vertue cannot so innocculate our old stocke, but we shall rellish of it. I loued you not
Ophe. I was the more deceiued
Ham. Get thee to a Nunnerie. Why would'st thou be a breeder of Sinners? I am my selfe indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better my Mother had not borne me. I am very prowd, reuengefull, Ambitious, with more offences at my becke, then I haue thoughts to put them in imagination, to giue them shape, or time to acte them in. What should such Fellowes as I do, crawling betweene Heauen and Earth. We are arrant Knaues all, beleeue none of vs. Goe thy wayes to a Nunnery. Where's your Father? Ophe. At home, my Lord
Ham. Let the doores be shut vpon him, that he may play the Foole no way, but in's owne house. Farewell
Ophe. O helpe him, you sweet Heauens
Ham. If thou doest Marry, Ile giue thee this Plague for thy Dowrie. Be thou as chast as Ice, as pure as Snow, 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. Farwell
Ophe. O heauenly Powers, restore him
Ham. I haue heard of your pratlings too wel enough. God has giuen you one pace, and you make your selfe another: you gidge, you amble, and you lispe, and nickname Gods creatures, and make your Wantonnesse, your Ignorance. Go too, Ile no more on't, it hath made me mad. I say, we will haue no more Marriages. Those that are married already, all but one shall liue, the rest shall keep as they are. To a Nunnery, go.
Exit Hamlet.
Ophe. O what a Noble minde is heere o're-throwne?The Courtiers, Soldiers, Schollers: Eye, tongue, sword,Th' expectansie and Rose of the faire State,The glasse of Fashion, and the mould of Forme,Th' obseru'd of all Obseruers, quite, quite downe.Haue I of Ladies most deiect and wretched,That suck'd the Honie of his Musicke Vowes:Now see that Noble, and most Soueraigne Reason,Like sweet Bels iangled out of tune, and harsh,That vnmatch'd Forme and Feature of blowne youth,Blasted with extasie. Oh woe is me,T'haue seene what I haue seene: see what I see.Enter King, and Polonius.
King. Loue? His affections do not that way tend,Nor what he spake, though it lack'd Forme a little,Was not like Madnesse. There's something in his soule?O're which his Melancholly sits on brood,And I do doubt the hatch, and the discloseWill be some danger, which to preuentI haue in quicke determinationThus set it downe. He shall with speed to EnglandFor the demand of our neglected Tribute:Haply the Seas and Countries differentWith variable Obiects, shall expellThis something setled matter in his heart:Whereon his Braines still beating, puts him thusFrom fashion of himselfe. What thinke you on't?Pol. It shall do well. But yet do I beleeueThe Origin and Commencement of this greefeSprung from neglected loue. How now Ophelia?You neede not tell vs, what Lord Hamlet saide,We heard it all. My Lord, do as you please,But if you hold it fit after the Play,Let his Queene Mother all alone intreat himTo shew his Greefes: let her be round with him,And Ile be plac'd so, please you in the eareOf all their Conference. If she finde him not,To England send him: Or confine him whereYour wisedome best shall thinke
King. It shall be so:Madnesse in great Ones, must not vnwatch'd go.
Exeunt.
Enter Hamlet, and two or three of the Players.
Ham. Speake the Speech I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you trippingly on the Tongue: But if you mouth it, as many of your Players do, I had as liue the Town-Cryer had spoke my Lines: Nor do not saw the Ayre too much your hand thus, but vse all gently; for in the verie Torrent, Tempest, and (as I say) the Whirle-winde of Passion, you must acquire and beget a Temperance that may giue it Smoothnesse. O it offends mee to the Soule, to see a robustious Pery-wig-pated Fellow, teare a Passion to tatters, to verie ragges, to split the eares of the Groundlings: who (for the most part) are capeable of nothing, but inexplicable dumbe shewes, & noise: I could haue such a Fellow whipt for o're-doing Termagant: it outHerod's Herod. Pray you auoid it
Player. I warrant your Honor
Ham. Be not too tame neyther: but let your owne Discretion be your Tutor. Sute the Action to the Word, the Word to the Action, with this speciall obseruance: That you ore-stop not the modestie of Nature; for any thing so ouer-done, is fro[m] the purpose of Playing, whose end both at the first and now, was and is, to hold as 'twer the Mirrour vp to Nature; to shew Vertue her owne Feature, Scorne her owne Image, and the verie Age and Bodie of the Time, his forme and pressure. Now, this ouer-done, or come tardie off, though it make the vnskilfull laugh, cannot but make the Iudicious greeue; The censure of the which One, must in your allowance o'reway a whole Theater of Others. Oh, there bee Players that I haue seene Play, and heard others praise, and that highly (not to speake it prophanely) that neyther hauing the accent of Christians, nor the gate of Christian, Pagan, or Norman, haue so strutted and bellowed, that I haue thought some of Natures Iouerney-men had made men, and not made them well, they imitated Humanity so abhominably
Play. I hope we haue reform'd that indifferently with vs, Sir
Ham. O reforme it altogether. And let those that play your Clownes, speake no more then is set downe for them. For there be of them, that will themselues laugh, to set on some quantitie of barren Spectators to laugh too, though in the meane time, some necessary Question of the Play be then to be considered: that's Villanous, & shewes a most pittifull Ambition in the Foole that vses it. Go make you readie.
Exit Players.
Enter Polonius, Rosincrance, and Guildensterne.
How now my Lord,Will the King heare this peece of Worke?Pol. And the Queene too, and that presently
Ham. Bid the Players make hast.
Exit Polonius.
Will you two helpe to hasten them?Both. We will my Lord.
Exeunt.
Enter Horatio.
Ham. What hoa, Horatio?Hora. Heere sweet Lord, at your Seruice
Ham. Horatio, thou art eene as iust a manAs ere my Conuersation coap'd withall
Hora. O my deere Lord
Ham. Nay, do not thinke I flatter:For what aduancement may I hope from thee,That no Reuennew hast, but thy good spiritsTo feed & cloath thee. Why shold the poor be flatter'd?No, let the Candied tongue, like absurd pompe,And crooke the pregnant Hindges of the knee,Where thrift may follow faining? Dost thou heare,Since my deere Soule was Mistris of my choyse,And could of men distinguish, her electionHath seal'd thee for her selfe. For thou hast beneAs one in suffering all, that suffers nothing.A man that Fortunes buffets, and RewardsHath 'tane with equall Thankes. And blest are those,Whose Blood and Iudgement are so well co-mingled,That they are not a Pipe for Fortunes finger.To sound what stop she please. Giue me that man,That is not Passions Slaue, and I will weare himIn my hearts Core. I, in my Heart of heart,As I do thee. Something too much of this.There is a Play to night to before the King.One Scoene of it comes neere the CircumstanceWhich I haue told thee, of my Fathers death.I prythee, when thou see'st that Acte a-foot,Euen with the verie Comment of my SouleObserue mine Vnkle: If his occulted guilt,Do not it selfe vnkennell in one speech,It is a damned Ghost that we haue seene:And my Imaginations are as fouleAs Vulcans Stythe. Giue him needfull note,For I mine eyes will riuet to his Face:And after we will both our iudgements ioyne,To censure of his seeming
Hora. Well my Lord.If he steale ought the whil'st this Play is Playing,And scape detecting, I will pay the Theft.Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance,Guildensterne, andother Lords attendant with his Guard carrying Torches. DanishMarch. Sounda Flourish.
Ham. They are comming to the Play: I must be idle.Get you a place
King. How fares our Cosin Hamlet?Ham. Excellent Ifaith, of the Camelions dish: I eatethe Ayre promise-cramm'd, you cannot feed Capons so
King. I haue nothing with this answer Hamlet, thesewords are not mine
Ham. No, nor mine. Now my Lord, you plaid oncei'th' Vniuersity, you say?Polon. That I did my Lord, and was accounted a goodActor
Ham. And what did you enact?Pol. I did enact Iulius Caesar, I was kill'd i'th' Capitol:Brutus kill'd me
Ham. It was a bruite part of him, to kill so Capitall aCalfe there. Be the Players ready?Rosin. I my Lord, they stay vpon your patience
Qu. Come hither my good Hamlet, sit by me
Ha. No good Mother, here's Mettle more attractiue
Pol. Oh ho, do you marke that?Ham. Ladie, shall I lye in your Lap?Ophe. No my Lord
Ham. I meane, my Head vpon your Lap?Ophe. I my Lord
Ham. Do you thinke I meant Country matters?Ophe. I thinke nothing, my Lord
Ham. That's a faire thought to ly betweene Maids legsOphe. What is my Lord?Ham. Nothing
Ophe. You are merrie, my Lord?Ham. Who I?Ophe. I my Lord
Ham. Oh God, your onely Iigge-maker: what should a man do, but be merrie. For looke you how cheerefully my Mother lookes, and my Father dyed within's two Houres
Ophe. Nay, 'tis twice two moneths, my Lord
Ham. So long? Nay then let the Diuel weare blacke, for Ile haue a suite of Sables. Oh Heauens! dye two moneths ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's hope, a great mans Memorie, may out-liue his life halfe a yeare: But byrlady he must builde Churches then: or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with the Hoby-horsse, whose Epitaph is, For o, For o, the Hoby-horse is forgot.
Hoboyes play. The dumbe shew enters.
Enter a King and Queene, very louingly; the Queene embracinghim. Shekneeles, and makes shew of Protestation vnto him. He takes hervp, anddeclines his head vpon her neck. Layes him downe vpon a Bankeof Flowers.She seeing him a-sleepe, leaues him. Anon comes in a Fellow,takes off hisCrowne, kisses it, and powres poyson in the Kings eares, andExits. TheQueene returnes, findes the King dead, and makes passionateAction. ThePoysoner, with some two or three Mutes comes in againe, seemingto lamentwith her. The dead body is carried away: The Poysoner Wooes theQueene withGifts, she seemes loath and vnwilling awhile, but in the end,accepts hisloue.
Exeunt.
Ophe. What meanes this, my Lord?Ham. Marry this is Miching Malicho, that meanesMischeefe
Ophe. Belike this shew imports the Argument of thePlay?Ham. We shall know by these Fellowes: the Playerscannot keepe counsell, they'l tell all
Ophe. Will they tell vs what this shew meant?Ham. I, or any shew that you'l shew him. Bee notyou asham'd to shew, hee'l not shame to tell you what itmeanes
Ophe. You are naught, you are naught, Ile marke thePlay.Enter Prologue.
For vs, and for our Tragedie,Heere stooping to your Clemencie:We begge your hearing Patientlie
Ham. Is this a Prologue, or the Poesie of a Ring?Ophe. 'Tis briefe my Lord
Ham. As Womans loue.Enter King and his Queene.
King. Full thirtie times hath Phoebus Cart gon round,Neptunes salt Wash, and Tellus Orbed ground:And thirtie dozen Moones with borrowed sheene,About the World haue times twelue thirties beene,Since loue our hearts, and Hymen did our handsVnite comutuall, in most sacred Bands
Bap. So many iournies may the Sunne and MooneMake vs againe count o're, ere loue be done.But woe is me, you are so sicke of late,So farre from cheere, and from your former state,That I distrust you: yet though I distrust,Discomfort you (my Lord) it nothing must:For womens Feare and Loue, holds quantitie,In neither ought, or in extremity:Now what my loue is, proofe hath made you know,And as my Loue is siz'd, my Feare is so
King. Faith I must leaue thee Loue, and shortly too:My operant Powers my Functions leaue to do:And thou shalt liue in this faire world behinde,Honour'd, belou'd, and haply, one as kinde.For Husband shalt thou-Bap. Oh confound the rest:Such Loue, must needs be Treason in my brest:In second Husband, let me be accurst,None wed the second, but who kill'd the first
Ham. Wormwood, Wormwood
Bapt. The instances that second Marriage moue,Are base respects of Thrift, but none of Loue.A second time, I kill my Husband dead,When second Husband kisses me in Bed
King. I do beleeue you. Think what now you speak:But what we do determine, oft we breake:Purpose is but the slaue to Memorie,Of violent Birth, but poore validitie:Which now like Fruite vnripe stickes on the Tree,But fall vnshaken, when they mellow bee.Most necessary 'tis, that we forgetTo pay our selues, what to our selues is debt:What to our selues in passion we propose,The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.The violence of other Greefe or Ioy,Their owne ennactors with themselues destroy:Where Ioy most Reuels, Greefe doth most lament;Greefe ioyes, Ioy greeues on slender accident.This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strangeThat euen our Loues should with our Fortunes change.For 'tis a question left vs yet to proue,Whether Loue lead Fortune, or else Fortune Loue.The great man downe, you marke his fauourites flies,The poore aduanc'd, makes Friends of Enemies:And hitherto doth Loue on Fortune tend,For who not needs, shall neuer lacke a Frend:And who in want a hollow Friend doth try,Directly seasons him his Enemie.But orderly to end, where I begun,Our Willes and Fates do so contrary run,That our Deuices still are ouerthrowne,Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our owne.So thinke thou wilt no second Husband wed.But die thy thoughts, when thy first Lord is dead
Bap. Nor Earth to giue me food, nor Heauen light,Sport and repose locke from me day and night:Each opposite that blankes the face of ioy,Meet what I would haue well, and it destroy:Both heere, and hence, pursue me lasting strife,If once a Widdow, euer I be Wife
Ham. If she should breake it now
King. 'Tis deepely sworne:Sweet, leaue me heere a while,My spirits grow dull, and faine I would beguileThe tedious day with sleepe
Qu. Sleepe rocke thy Braine,
Sleepes
And neuer come mischance betweene vs twaine.
Exit
Ham. Madam, how like you this Play?Qu. The Lady protests to much me thinkes
Ham. Oh but shee'l keepe her word
King. Haue you heard the Argument, is there no Offencein't?Ham. No, no, they do but iest, poyson in iest, no Offencei'th' 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 Dukes name, his wife Baptista: you shall see anon: 'tis a knauish peece of worke: But what o'that? Your Maiestie, and wee that haue free soules, it touches vs not: let the gall'd iade winch: our withers are vnrung. Enter Lucianus.
This is one Lucianus nephew to the King
Ophe. You are a good Chorus, my Lord
Ham. I could interpret betweene you and your loue: if I could see the Puppets dallying
Ophe. You are keene my Lord, you are keene
Ham. It would cost you a groaning, to take off my edge
Ophe. Still better and worse
Ham. So you mistake Husbands. Begin Murderer. Pox, leaue thy damnable Faces, and begin. Come, the croaking Rauen doth bellow for Reuenge
Lucian. Thoughts blacke, hands apt,Drugges fit, and Time agreeing:Confederate season, else, no Creature seeing:Thou mixture ranke, of Midnight Weeds collected,With Hecats Ban, thrice blasted, thrice infected,Thy naturall Magicke, and dire propertie,On wholsome life, vsurpe immediately.
Powres the poyson in his eares.
Ham. He poysons him i'th' Garden for's estate: His name's Gonzago: the Story is extant and writ in choyce Italian. You shall see anon how the Murtherer gets the loue of Gonzago's wife
Ophe. The King rises
Ham. What, frighted with false fire
Qu. How fares my Lord?Pol. Giue o're the Play
King. Giue me some Light. Away
All. Lights, Lights, Lights.
Exeunt.
Manet Hamlet & Horatio.
Ham. Why let the strucken Deere go weepe,The Hart vngalled play:For some must watch, while some must sleepe;So runnes the world away.Would not this Sir, and a Forrest of Feathers, if the rest ofmy Fortunes turne Turke with me; with two ProuinciallRoses on my rac'd Shooes, get me a Fellowship in a crieof Players sir
Hor. Halfe a share
Ham. A whole one I,For thou dost know: Oh Damon deere,This Realme dismantled was of Ioue himselfe,And now reignes heere.A verie verie Paiocke
Hora. You might haue Rim'd
Ham. Oh good Horatio, Ile take the Ghosts word fora thousand pound. Did'st perceiue?Hora. Verie well my Lord
Ham. Vpon the talke of the poysoning?Hora. I did verie well note him.Enter Rosincrance and Guildensterne.
Ham. Oh, ha? Come some Musick. Come y Recorders:For if the King like not the Comedie,Why then belike he likes it not perdie.Come some Musicke
Guild. Good my Lord, vouchsafe me a word with you
Ham. Sir, a whole History
Guild. The King, sir
Ham. I sir, what of him?Guild. Is in his retyrement, maruellous distemper'd
Ham. With drinke Sir?Guild. No my Lord, rather with choller
Ham. Your wisedome should shew it selfe more richer, to signifie this to his Doctor: for for me to put him to his Purgation, would perhaps plundge him into farre more Choller
Guild. Good my Lord put your discourse into some frame, and start not so wildely from my affayre
Ham. I am tame Sir, pronounce
Guild. The Queene your Mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you
Ham. You are welcome
Guild. Nay, good my Lord, this courtesie is not of the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholsome answer, I will doe your Mothers command'ment: if not, your pardon, and my returne shall bee the end of my Businesse
Ham. Sir, I cannot
Guild. What, my Lord? Ham. Make you a wholsome answere: my wits diseas'd. But sir, such answers as I can make, you shal command: or rather you say, my Mother: therfore no more but to the matter. My Mother you say
Rosin. Then thus she sayes: your behauior hath strokeher into amazement, and admiration
Ham. Oh wonderfull Sonne, that can so astonish aMother. But is there no sequell at the heeles of this Mothersadmiration?Rosin. She desires to speake with you in her Closset,ere you go to bed
Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our Mother.Haue you any further Trade with vs?Rosin. My Lord, you once did loue me
Ham. So I do still, by these pickers and stealers
Rosin. Good my Lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do freely barre the doore of your owne Libertie, if you deny your greefes to your Friend
Ham. Sir I lacke Aduancement
Rosin. How can that be, when you haue the voyce ofthe King himselfe, for your Succession in Denmarke?Ham. I, but while the grasse growes, the Prouerbe issomething musty.Enter one with a Recorder.
O the Recorder. Let me see, to withdraw with you, why do you go about to recouer the winde of mee, as if you would driue me into a toyle? Guild. O my Lord, if my Dutie be too bold, my loue is too vnmannerly
Ham. I do not well vnderstand that. Will you playvpon this Pipe?Guild. My Lord, I cannot
Ham. I pray you
Guild. Beleeue me, I cannot
Ham. I do beseech you
Guild. I know no touch of it, my Lord
Ham. 'Tis as easie as lying: gouerne these Ventiges with your finger and thumbe, giue it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most excellent Musicke. Looke you, these are the stoppes
Guild. But these cannot I command to any vtterance of hermony, I haue not the skill
Ham. Why looke you now, how vnworthy a thing you make of me: you would play vpon mee; you would seeme to know my stops: you would pluck out the heart of my Mysterie; you would sound mee from my lowest Note, to the top of my Compasse: and there is much Musicke, excellent Voice, in this little Organe, yet cannot you make it. Why do you thinke, that I am easier to bee plaid on, then a Pipe? Call me what Instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play vpon me. God blesse you Sir. Enter Polonius.
Polon. My Lord; the Queene would speak with you,and presently
Ham. Do you see that Clowd? that's almost in shapelike a Camell
Polon. By'th' Masse, and it's like a Camell indeed
Ham. Me thinkes it is like a Weazell
Polon. It is back'd like a Weazell
Ham. Or like a Whale?Polon. Verie like a Whale
Ham. Then will I come to my Mother, by and by:They foole me to the top of my bent.I will come by and by
Polon. I will say so.Enter.
Ham. By and by, is easily said. Leaue me Friends:'Tis now the verie witching time of night,When Churchyards yawne, and Hell it selfe breaths outContagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood,And do such bitter businesse as the dayWould quake to looke on. Soft now, to my Mother:Oh Heart, loose not thy Nature; let not euerThe Soule of Nero, enter this firme bosome:Let me be cruell, not vnnaturall,I will speake Daggers to her, but vse none:My Tongue and Soule in this be Hypocrites.How in my words someuer she be shent,To giue them Seales, neuer my Soule consent.Enter King, Rosincrance, and Guildensterne.
King. I like him not, nor stands it safe with vs,To let his madnesse range. Therefore prepare you,I your Commission will forthwith dispatch,And he to England shall along with you:The termes of our estate, may not endureHazard so dangerous as doth hourely growOut of his Lunacies
Guild. We will our selues prouide:Most holie and Religious feare it isTo keepe those many many bodies safeThat liue and feede vpon your Maiestie
Rosin. The singleAnd peculiar life is boundWith all the strength and Armour of the minde,To keepe it selfe from noyance: but much more,That Spirit, vpon whose spirit depends and restsThe liues of many, the cease of MaiestieDies not alone; but like a Gulfe doth drawWhat's neere it, with it. It is a massie wheeleFixt on the Somnet of the highest Mount.To whose huge Spoakes, ten thousand lesser thingsAre mortiz'd and adioyn'd: which when it falles,Each small annexment, pettie consequenceAttends the boystrous Ruine. Neuer aloneDid the King sighe, but with a generall grone
King. Arme you, I pray you to this speedie Voyage;For we will Fetters put vpon this feare,Which now goes too free-footed
Both. We will haste vs.
Exeunt. Gent.
Enter Polonius.
Pol. My Lord, he's going to his Mothers Closset:Behinde the Arras Ile conuey my selfeTo heare the Processe. Ile warrant shee'l tax him home,And as you said, and wisely was it said,'Tis meete that some more audience then a Mother,Since Nature makes them partiall, should o're-heareThe speech of vantage. Fare you well my Liege,Ile call vpon you ere you go to bed,And tell you what I know
King. Thankes deere my Lord.Oh my offence is ranke, it smels to heauen,It hath the primall eldest curse vpon't,A Brothers murther. Pray can I not,Though inclination be as sharpe as will:My stronger guilt, defeats my strong intent,And like a man to double businesse bound,I stand in pause where I shall first begin,And both neglect; what if this cursed handWere thicker then it selfe with Brothers blood,Is there not Raine enough in the sweet HeauensTo wash it white as Snow? Whereto serues mercy,But to confront the visage of Offence?And what's in Prayer, but this two-fold force,To be fore-stalled ere we come to fall,Or pardon'd being downe? Then Ile looke vp,My fault is past. But oh, what forme of PrayerCan serue my turne? Forgiue me my foule Murther:That cannot be, since I am still possestOf those effects for which I did the Murther.My Crowne, mine owne Ambition, and my Queene:May one be pardon'd, and retaine th' offence?In the corrupted currants of this world,Offences gilded hand may shoue by Iustice,And oft 'tis seene, the wicked prize it selfeBuyes out the Law; but 'tis not so aboue,There is no shuffling, there the Action lyesIn his true Nature, and we our selues compell'dEuen to the teeth and forehead of our faults,To giue in euidence. What then? What rests?Try what Repentance can. What can it not?Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?Oh wretched state! Oh bosome, blacke as death!Oh limed soule, that strugling to be free,Art more ingag'd: Helpe Angels, make assay:Bow stubborne knees, and heart with strings of Steele,Be soft as sinewes of the new-borne Babe,All may be well.Enter Hamlet.
Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying,And now Ile doo't, and so he goes to Heauen,And so am I reueng'd: that would be scann'd,A Villaine killes my Father, and for thatI his foule Sonne, do this same Villaine sendTo heauen. Oh this is hyre and Sallery, not Reuenge.He tooke my Father grossely, full of bread,With all his Crimes broad blowne, as fresh as May,And how his Audit stands, who knowes, saue Heauen:But in our circumstance and course of thought'Tis heauie with him: and am I then reueng'd,To take him in the purging of his Soule,When he is fit and season'd for his passage? No.Vp Sword, and know thou a more horrid hentWhen he is drunke asleepe: or in his Rage,Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed,At gaming, swearing, or about some acteThat ha's no rellish of Saluation in't,Then trip him, that his heeles may kicke at Heauen,And that his Soule may be as damn'd and blackeAs Hell, whereto it goes. My Mother stayes,This Physicke but prolongs thy sickly dayes.Enter.
King. My words flye vp, my thoughts remain below,Words without thoughts, neuer to Heauen go.Enter.
Enter Queene and Polonius.
Pol. He will come straight:Looke you lay home to him,Tell him his prankes haue been too broad to beare with,And that your Grace hath screen'd, and stoode betweeneMuch heate, and him. Ile silence me e'ene heere:Pray you be round with him
Ham. within. Mother, mother, mother
Qu. Ile warrant you, feare me not.Withdraw, I heare him coming.Enter Hamlet.
Ham. Now Mother, what's the matter?Qu. Hamlet, thou hast thy Father much offended
Ham. Mother, you haue my Father much offended
Qu. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue
Ham. Go, go, you question with an idle tongue
Qu. Why how now Hamlet?Ham. Whats the matter now?Qu. Haue you forgot me?Ham. No by the Rood, not so:You are the Queene, your Husbands Brothers wife,But would you were not so. You are my Mother
Qu. Nay, then Ile set those to you that can speake
Ham. Come, come, and sit you downe, you shall notboudge:You go not till I set you vp a glasse,Where you may see the inmost part of you?Qu. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murther me?Helpe, helpe, hoa
Pol. What hoa, helpe, helpe, helpe
Ham. How now, a Rat? dead for a Ducate, dead
Pol. Oh I am slaine.
Killes Polonius
Qu. Oh me, what hast thou done?Ham. Nay I know not, is it the King?Qu. Oh what a rash, and bloody deed is this?Ham. A bloody deed, almost as bad good Mother,As kill a King, and marrie with his Brother
Qu. As kill a King?Ham. I Lady, 'twas my word.Thou wretched, rash, intruding foole farewell,I tooke thee for thy Betters, take thy Fortune,Thou find'st to be too busie, is some danger.Leaue wringing of your hands, peace, sit you downe,And let me wring your heart, for so I shallIf it be made of penetrable stuffe;If damned Custome haue not braz'd it so,That it is proofe and bulwarke against Sense
Qu. What haue I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tong,In noise so rude against me?Ham. Such an ActThat blurres the grace and blush of Modestie,Cals Vertue Hypocrite, takes off the RoseFrom the faire forehead of an innocent loue,And makes a blister there. Makes marriage vowesAs false as Dicers Oathes. Oh such a deed,As from the body of Contraction pluckesThe very soule, and sweete Religion makesA rapsidie of words. Heauens face doth glow,Yea this solidity and compound masse,With tristfull visage as against the doome,Is thought-sicke at the act
Qu. Aye me; what act, that roares so lowd, & thundersin the Index
Ham. Looke heere vpon this Picture, and on this,The counterfet presentment of two Brothers:See what a grace was seated on his Brow,Hyperions curles, the front of Ioue himselfe,An eye like Mars, to threaten or commandA Station, like the Herald MercurieNew lighted on a heauen-kissing hill:A Combination, and a forme indeed,Where euery God did seeme to set his Seale,To giue the world assurance of a man.This was your Husband. Looke you now what followes.Heere is your Husband, like a Mildew'd eareBlasting his wholsom breath. Haue you eyes?Could you on this faire Mountaine leaue to feed,And batten on this Moore? Ha? Haue you eyes?You cannot call it Loue: For at your age,The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,And waites vpon the Iudgement: and what IudgementWould step from this, to this? What diuell was't,That thus hath cousend you at hoodman-blinde?O Shame! where is thy Blush? Rebellious Hell,If thou canst mutine in a Matrons bones,To flaming youth, let Vertue be as waxe.And melt in her owne fire. Proclaime no shame,When the compulsiue Ardure giues the charge,Since Frost it selfe, as actiuely doth burne,As Reason panders Will
Qu. O Hamlet, speake no more.Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soule,And there I see such blacke and grained spots,As will not leaue their Tinct
Ham. Nay, but to liueIn the ranke sweat of an enseamed bed,Stew'd in Corruption; honying and making loueOuer the nasty Stye
Qu. Oh speake to me, no more,These words like Daggers enter in mine eares.No more sweet Hamlet
Ham. A Murderer, and a Villaine:A Slaue, that is not twentieth part the tytheOf your precedent Lord. A vice of Kings,A Cutpurse of the Empire and the Rule.That from a shelfe, the precious Diadem stole,And put it in his Pocket
Qu. No more.Enter Ghost.
Ham. A King of shreds and patches.Saue me; and houer o're me with your wingsYou heauenly Guards. What would your gracious figure?Qu. Alas he's mad
Ham. Do you not come your tardy Sonne to chide,That laps't in Time and Passion, lets go byTh' important acting of your dread command? Oh say
Ghost. Do not forget: this VisitationIs but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.But looke, Amazement on thy Mother sits;O step betweene her, and her fighting Soule,Conceit in weakest bodies, strongest workes.Speake to her Hamlet
Ham. How is it with you Lady?Qu. Alas, how is't with you?That you bend your eye on vacancie,And with their corporall ayre do hold discourse.Forth at your eyes, your spirits wildely peepe,And as the sleeping Soldiours in th' Alarme,Your bedded haire, like life in excrements,Start vp, and stand an end. Oh gentle Sonne,Vpon the heate and flame of thy distemperSprinkle coole patience. Whereon do you looke?Ham. On him, on him: look you how pale he glares,His forme and cause conioyn'd, preaching to stones,Would make them capeable. Do not looke vpon me,Least with this pitteous action you conuertMy sterne effects: then what I haue to do,Will want true colour; teares perchance for blood
Qu. To who do you speake this?Ham. Do you see nothing there?Qu. Nothing at all, yet all that is I see
Ham. Nor did you nothing heare?Qu. No, nothing but our selues
Ham. Why look you there: looke how it steals away:My Father in his habite, as he liued,Looke where he goes euen now out at the Portall.Enter.
Qu. This is the very coynage of your Braine,This bodilesse Creation extasie is very cunning in
Ham. Extasie?My Pulse as yours doth temperately keepe time,And makes as healthfull Musicke. It is not madnesseThat I haue vttered; bring me to the TestAnd I the matter will re-word: which madnesseWould gamboll from. Mother, for loue of Grace,Lay not a flattering Vnction to your soule,That not your trespasse, but my madnesse speakes:It will but skin and filme the Vlcerous place,Whil'st ranke Corruption mining all within,Infects vnseene. Confesse your selfe to Heauen,Repent what's past, auoyd what is to come,And do not spred the Compost on the Weedes,To make them ranke. Forgiue me this my Vertue,For in the fatnesse of this pursie times,Vertue it selfe, of Vice must pardon begge,Yea courb, and woe, for leaue to do him good
Qu. Oh Hamlet,Thou hast cleft my heart in twaine
Ham. O throw away the worser part of it,And liue the purer with the other halfe.Good night, but go not to mine Vnkles bed,Assume a Vertue, if you haue it not, refraine to night,And that shall lend a kinde of easinesseTo the next abstinence. Once more goodnight,And when you are desirous to be blest,Ile blessing begge of you. For this same Lord,I do repent: but heauen hath pleas'd it so,To punish me with this, and this with me,That I must be their Scourge and Minister.I will bestow him, and will answer wellThe death I gaue him: so againe, good night.I must be cruell, onely to be kinde;Thus bad begins and worse remaines behinde
Qu. What shall I do?Ham. Not this by no meanes that I bid you do:Let the blunt King tempt you againe to bed,Pinch Wanton on your cheeke, call you his Mouse,And let him for a paire of reechie kisses,Or padling in your necke with his damn'd Fingers,Make you to rauell all this matter out,That I essentially am not in madnesse,But made in craft. 'Twere good you let him know,For who that's but a Queene, faire, sober, wise,Would from a Paddocke, from a Bat, a Gibbe,Such deere concernings hide, Who would do so,No in despight of Sense and Secrecie,Vnpegge the Basket on the houses top:Let the Birds flye, and like the famous ApeTo try Conclusions in the Basket, creepeAnd breake your owne necke downe
Qu. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath,And breath of life: I haue no life to breathWhat thou hast saide to me
Ham. I must to England, you know that?Qu. Alacke I had forgot: 'Tis so concluded on
Ham. This man shall set me packing:Ile lugge the Guts into the Neighbor roome,Mother goodnight. Indeede this CounsellorIs now most still, most secret, and most graue,Who was in life, a foolish prating Knaue.Come sir, to draw toward an end with you.Good night Mother.Exit Hamlet tugging in Polonius.
Enter King.
King. There's matters in these sighes.These profound heauesYou must translate; Tis fit we vnderstand them.Where is your Sonne?Qu. Ah my good Lord, what haue I seene to night?King. What Gertrude? How do's Hamlet?Qu. Mad as the Seas, and winde, when both contendWhich is the Mightier, in his lawlesse fitBehinde the Arras, hearing something stirre,He whips his Rapier out, and cries a Rat, a Rat,And in his brainish apprehension killesThe vnseene good old man
King. Oh heauy deed:It had bin so with vs had we beene there:His Liberty is full of threats to all,To you your selfe, to vs, to euery one.Alas, how shall this bloody deede be answered?It will be laide to vs, whose prouidenceShould haue kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt,This mad yong man. But so much was our loue,We would not vnderstand what was most fit,But like the Owner of a foule disease,To keepe it from divulging, let's it feedeEuen on the pith of life. Where is he gone?Qu. To draw apart the body he hath kild,O're whom his very madnesse like some OareAmong a Minerall of Mettels baseShewes it selfe pure. He weepes for what is done
King. Oh Gertrude, come away:The Sun no sooner shall the Mountaines touch,But we will ship him hence, and this vilde deed,We must with all our Maiesty and SkillBoth countenance, and excuse.Enter Ros. & Guild.
Ho Guildenstern:Friends both go ioyne you with some further ayde:Hamlet in madnesse hath Polonius slaine,And from his Mother Clossets hath he drag'd him.Go seeke him out, speake faire, and bring the bodyInto the Chappell. I pray you hast in this.Exit Gent.
Come Gertrude, wee'l call vp our wisest friends,To let them know both what we meane to do,And what's vntimely done. Oh come away,My soule is full of discord and dismay.
Exeunt.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham. Safely stowed
Gentlemen within. Hamlet, Lord Hamlet
Ham. What noise? Who cals on Hamlet?Oh heere they come.Enter Ros. and Guildensterne.
Ro. What haue you done my Lord with the dead body?Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis Kinne
Rosin. Tell vs where 'tis, that we may take it thence,And beare it to the Chappell
Ham. Do not beleeue it
Rosin. Beleeue what?Ham. That I can keepe your counsell, and not mineowne. Besides, to be demanded of a Spundge, what replicationshould be made by the Sonne of a King
Rosin. Take you me for a Spundge, my Lord? Ham. I sir, that sokes vp the Kings Countenance, his Rewards, his Authorities (but such Officers do the King best seruice in the end. He keepes them like an Ape in the corner of his iaw, first mouth'd to be last swallowed, when he needes what you haue glean'd, it is but squeezing you, and Spundge you shall be dry againe
Rosin. I vnderstand you not my Lord
Ham. I am glad of it: a knauish speech sleepes in afoolish eare
Rosin. My Lord, you must tell vs where the body is,and go with vs to the King
Ham. The body is with the King, but the King is notwith the body. The King, is a thing-Guild. A thing my Lord?Ham. Of nothing: bring me to him, hide Fox, and allafter.
Exeunt.
Enter King.
King. I haue sent to seeke him, and to find the bodie:How dangerous is it that this man goes loose:Yet must not we put the strong Law on him:Hee's loued of the distracted multitude,Who like not in their iudgement, but their eyes:And where 'tis so, th' Offenders scourge is weigh'dBut neerer the offence: to beare all smooth, and euen,This sodaine sending him away, must seemeDeliberate pause, diseases desperate growne,By desperate appliance are releeued,Or not at all.Enter Rosincrane.
How now? What hath befalne?Rosin. Where the dead body is bestow'd my Lord,We cannot get from him
King. But where is he?Rosin. Without my Lord, guarded to know yourpleasure
King. Bring him before vs
Rosin. Hoa, Guildensterne? Bring in my Lord.Enter Hamlet and Guildensterne.
King. Now Hamlet, where's Polonius?Ham. At Supper
King. At Supper? Where? Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten, a certaine conuocation of wormes are e'ne at him. Your worm is your onely Emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else to fat vs, and we fat our selfe for Magots. Your fat King, and your leane Begger is but variable seruice to dishes, but to one Table that's the end
King. What dost thou meane by this?Ham. Nothing but to shew you how a King may goa Progresse through the guts of a Begger
King. Where is Polonius
Ham. In heauen, send thither to see. If your Messenger finde him not there, seeke him i'th other place your selfe: but indeed, if you finde him not this moneth, you shall nose him as you go vp the staires into the Lobby
King. Go seeke him there
Ham. He will stay till ye come
K. Hamlet, this deed of thine, for thine especial safetyWhich we do tender, as we deerely greeueFor that which thou hast done, must send thee henceWith fierie Quicknesse. Therefore prepare thy selfe,The Barke is readie, and the winde at helpe,Th' Associates tend, and euery thing at bentFor England
Ham. For England?King. I Hamlet
Ham. Good
King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes
Ham. I see a Cherube that see's him: but come, forEngland. Farewell deere Mother
King. Thy louing Father Hamlet
Hamlet. My Mother: Father and Mother is man and wife: man & wife is one flesh, and so my mother. Come, for England.
Exit
King. Follow him at foote,Tempt him with speed aboord:Delay it not, Ile haue him hence to night.Away, for euery thing is Seal'd and doneThat else leanes on th' Affaire, pray you make hast.And England, if my loue thou holdst at ought,As my great power thereof may giue thee sense,Since yet thy Cicatrice lookes raw and redAfter the Danish Sword, and thy free awePayes homage to vs; thou maist not coldly setOur Soueraigne Processe, which imports at fullBy Letters coniuring to that effectThe present death of Hamlet. Do it England,For like the Hecticke in my blood he rages,And thou must cure me: Till I know 'tis done,How ere my happes, my ioyes were ne're begun.
Exit
Enter Fortinbras with an Armie.
For. Go Captaine, from me greet the Danish King,Tell him that by his license, FortinbrasClaimes the conueyance of a promis'd MarchOuer his Kingdome. You know the Rendeuous:If that his Maiesty would ought with vs,We shall expresse our dutie in his eye,And let him know so
Cap. I will doo't, my Lord
For. Go safely on.Enter.
Enter Queene and Horatio.
Qu. I will not speake with her