The Tragedie of Hamlet, Prince of Denmarke

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For other versions of this work, see Hamlet (Shakespeare).



The Tragedie of Hamlet


Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.


Enter Barnardo and Francisco two Centinels.


Barnardo. Who's there?

Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold

your selfe


Bar. Long liue the King


Fran. Barnardo?

Bar. He


Fran. You come most carefully vpon your houre


Bar. 'Tis now strook twelue, get thee to bed Francisco


Fran. For this releefe much thankes: 'Tis bitter cold,

And I am sicke at heart


Barn. Haue you had quiet Guard?

Fran. Not a Mouse stirring


Barn. Well, goodnight. If you do meet Horatio and

Marcellus, the Riuals of my Watch, bid them make hast.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.


Fran. I thinke I heare them. Stand: who's there?

Hor. Friends to this ground


Mar. And Leige-men to the Dane


Fran. Giue you good night


Mar. O farwel honest Soldier, who hath relieu'd you?

Fra. Barnardo ha's my place: giue you goodnight.


Exit Fran.


Mar. Holla Barnardo


Bar. Say, what is Horatio there?

Hor. A peece of him


Bar. Welcome Horatio, welcome good Marcellus


Mar. What, ha's this thing appear'd againe to night


Bar. I haue seene nothing


Mar. Horatio saies, 'tis but our Fantasie,

And will not let beleefe take hold of him

Touching this dreaded sight, twice seene of vs,

Therefore I haue intreated him along

With vs, to watch the minutes of this Night,

That if againe this Apparition come,

He may approue our eyes, and speake to it


Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appeare


Bar. Sit downe a-while,

And let vs once againe assaile your eares,

That are so fortified against our Story,

What we two Nights haue seene


Hor. Well, sit we downe,

And let vs heare Barnardo speake of this


Barn. Last night of all,

When yond same Starre that's Westward from the Pole

Had made his course t' illume that part of Heauen

Where now it burnes, Marcellus and my selfe,

The Bell then beating one


Mar. Peace, breake thee of:

Enter the Ghost.


Looke where it comes againe


Barn. In the same figure, like the King that's dead


Mar. Thou art a Scholler; speake to it Horatio


Barn. Lookes it not like the King? Marke it Horatio


Hora. Most like: It harrowes me with fear & wonder

Barn. It would be spoke too


Mar. Question it Horatio


Hor. What art thou that vsurp'st this time of night,

Together with that Faire and Warlike forme

In which the Maiesty of buried Denmarke

Did sometimes march: By Heauen I charge thee speake


Mar. It is offended


Barn. See, it stalkes away


Hor. Stay: speake; speake: I Charge thee, speake.


Exit the Ghost.


Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer


Barn. How now Horatio? You tremble & look pale:

Is not this something more then Fantasie?

What thinke you on't?

Hor. Before my God, I might not this beleeue

Without the sensible and true auouch

Of mine owne eyes


Mar. Is it not like the King?

Hor. As thou art to thy selfe,

Such was the very Armour he had on,

When th' Ambitious Norwey combatted:

So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle

He smot the sledded Pollax on the Ice.

'Tis strange


Mar. Thus twice before, and iust at this dead houre,

With Martiall stalke, hath he gone by our Watch


Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not:

But in the grosse and scope of my Opinion,

This boades some strange erruption to our State


Mar. Good now sit downe, & tell me he that knowes

Why this same strict and most obseruant Watch,

So nightly toyles the subiect of the Land,

And why such dayly Cast of Brazon Cannon

And Forraigne Mart for Implements of warre:

Why such impresse of Ship-wrights, whose sore Taske

Do's not diuide the Sunday from the weeke,

What might be toward, that this sweaty hast

Doth make the Night ioynt-Labourer with the day:

Who is't that can informe me?

Hor. That can I,

At least the whisper goes so: Our last King,

Whose Image euen but now appear'd to vs,

Was (as you know) by Fortinbras of Norway,

(Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate Pride)

Dar'd to the Combate. In which, our Valiant Hamlet,

(For so this side of our knowne world esteem'd him)

Did slay this Fortinbras: who by a Seal'd Compact,

Well ratified by Law, and Heraldrie,

Did forfeite (with his life) all those his Lands

Which he stood seiz'd on, to the Conqueror:

Against the which, a Moity competent

Was gaged by our King: which had return'd

To the Inheritance of Fortinbras,

Had he bin Vanquisher, as by the same Cou'nant

And carriage of the Article designe,

His fell to Hamlet. Now sir, young Fortinbras,

Of vnimproued Mettle, hot and full,

Hath in the skirts of Norway, heere and there,

Shark'd vp a List of Landlesse Resolutes,

For Foode and Diet, to some Enterprize

That hath a stomacke in't: which is no other

(And it doth well appeare vnto our State)

But to recouer of vs by strong hand

And termes Compulsatiue, those foresaid Lands

So by his Father lost: and this (I take it)

Is the maine Motiue of our Preparations,

The Sourse of this our Watch, and the cheefe head

Of this post-hast, and Romage in the Land.

Enter Ghost againe.


But soft, behold: Loe, where it comes againe:

Ile crosse it, though it blast me. Stay Illusion:

If thou hast any sound, or vse of Voyce,

Speake to me. If there be any good thing to be done,

That may to thee do ease, and grace to me; speak to me.

If thou art priuy to thy Countries Fate

(Which happily foreknowing may auoyd) Oh speake.

Or, if thou hast vp-hoorded in thy life

Extorted Treasure in the wombe of Earth,

(For which, they say, you Spirits oft walke in death)

Speake of it. Stay, and speake. Stop it Marcellus


Mar. Shall I strike at it with my Partizan?

Hor. Do, if it will not stand


Barn. 'Tis heere


Hor. 'Tis heere


Mar. 'Tis gone.


Exit Ghost.


We do it wrong, being so Maiesticall

To offer it the shew of Violence,

For it is as the Ayre, invulnerable,

And our vaine blowes, malicious Mockery


Barn. It was about to speake, when the Cocke crew


Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing

Vpon a fearfull Summons. I haue heard,

The Cocke that is the Trumpet to the day,

Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding Throate

Awake the God of Day: and at his warning,

Whether in Sea, or Fire, in Earth, or Ayre,

Th' extrauagant, and erring Spirit, hyes

To his Confine. And of the truth heerein,

This present Obiect made probation


Mar. It faded on the crowing of the Cocke.

Some sayes, that euer 'gainst that Season comes

Wherein our Sauiours Birch is celebrated,

The Bird of Dawning singeth all night long:

And then (they say) no Spirit can walke abroad,

The nights are wholsome, then no Planets strike,

No Faiery talkes, nor Witch hath power to Charme:

So hallow'd, and so gracious is the time


Hor. So haue I heard, and do in part beleeue it.

But looke, the Morne in Russet mantle clad,

Walkes o're the dew of yon high Easterne Hill,

Breake we our Watch vp, and by my aduice

Let vs impart what we haue seene to night

Vnto yong Hamlet. For vpon my life,

This Spirit dumbe to vs, will speake to him:

Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,

As needfull in our Loues, fitting our Duty?

Mar. Let do't I pray, and I this morning know

Where we shall finde him most conueniently.


Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.


Enter Claudius King of Denmarke, Gertrude the Queene, Hamlet,

Polonius,

Laertes, and his Sister Ophelia, Lords Attendant.


King. Though yet of Hamlet our deere Brothers death

The memory be greene: and that it vs befitted

To beare our hearts in greefe, and our whole Kingdome

To be contracted in one brow of woe:

Yet so farre hath Discretion fought with Nature,

That we with wisest sorrow thinke on him,

Together with remembrance of our selues.

Therefore our sometimes Sister, now our Queene,

Th' imperiall Ioyntresse of this warlike State,

Haue we, as 'twere, with a defeated ioy,

With one Auspicious, and one Dropping eye,

With mirth in Funerall, and with Dirge in Marriage,

In equall Scale weighing Delight and Dole

Taken to Wife; nor haue we heerein barr'd

Your better Wisedomes, which haue freely gone

With this affaire along, for all our Thankes.

Now followes, that you know young Fortinbras,

Holding a weake supposall of our worth;

Or thinking by our late deere Brothers death,

Our State to be disioynt, and out of Frame,

Colleagued with the dreame of his Aduantage;

He hath not fayl'd to pester vs 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.

Enter Voltemand and Cornelius.


Now for our selfe, and for this time of meeting

Thus much the businesse is. We haue heere writ

To Norway, Vncle of young Fortinbras,

Who Impotent and Bedrid, scarsely heares

Of this his Nephewes purpose, to suppresse

His further gate heerein. In that the Leuies,

The Lists, and full proportions are all made

Out of his subiect: and we heere dispatch

You good Cornelius, and you Voltemand,

For bearing of this greeting to old Norway,

Giuing to you no further personall power

To businesse with the King, more then the scope

Of these dilated Articles allow:

Farewell, and let your hast commend your duty


Volt. In that, and all things, will we shew our duty


King. We doubt it nothing, heartily farewell.


Exit Voltemand and Cornelius.


And now Laertes, what's the newes with you?

You told vs of some suite. What is't Laertes?

You cannot speake of Reason to the Dane,

And loose your voyce. What would'st thou beg Laertes,

That shall not be my Offer, not thy Asking?

The Head is not more Natiue to the Heart,

The Hand more instrumentall to the Mouth,

Then is the Throne of Denmarke to thy Father.

What would'st thou haue Laertes?

Laer. Dread my Lord,

Your leaue and fauour to returne to France,

From whence, though willingly I came to Denmarke

To shew my duty in your Coronation,

Yet now I must confesse, that duty done,

My thoughts and wishes bend againe towards France,

And bow them to your gracious leaue and pardon


King. Haue you your Fathers leaue?

What sayes Pollonius?

Pol. He hath my Lord:

I do beseech you giue him leaue to go


King. Take thy faire houre Laertes, time be thine,

And thy best graces spend it at thy will:

But now my Cosin Hamlet, and my Sonne?

Ham. A little more then kin, and lesse then kinde


King. How is it that the Clouds still hang on you?

Ham. Not so my Lord, I am too much i'th' Sun


Queen. Good Hamlet cast thy nightly colour off,

And let thine eye looke like a Friend on Denmarke.

Do not for euer with thy veyled lids

Seeke for thy Noble Father in the dust;

Thou know'st 'tis common, all that liues must dye,

Passing through Nature, to Eternity


Ham. I Madam, it is common


Queen. If it be;

Why seemes it so particular with thee


Ham. Seemes Madam? Nay, it is: I know not Seemes:

'Tis not alone my Inky Cloake (good Mother)

Nor Customary suites of solemne Blacke,

Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,

No, nor the fruitfull Riuer in the Eye,

Nor the deiected hauiour of the Visage,

Together with all Formes, Moods, shewes of Griefe,

That can denote me truly. These indeed Seeme,

For they are actions that a man might play:

But I haue that Within, which passeth show;

These, but the Trappings, and the Suites of woe


King. 'Tis sweet and commendable

In your Nature Hamlet,

To giue these mourning duties to your Father:

But you must know, your Father lost a Father,

That Father lost, lost his, and the Suruiuer bound

In filiall Obligation, for some terme

To do obsequious Sorrow. But to perseuer

In obstinate Condolement, is a course

Of impious stubbornnesse. 'Tis vnmanly greefe,

It shewes a will most incorrect to Heauen,

A Heart vnfortified, a Minde impatient,

An Vnderstanding simple, and vnschool'd:

For, what we know must be, and is as common

As any the most vulgar thing to sence,

Why should we in our peeuish Opposition

Take it to heart? Fye, 'tis a fault to Heauen,

A fault against the Dead, a fault to Nature,

To Reason most absurd, whose common Theame

Is death of Fathers, and who still hath cried,

From the first Coarse, till he that dyed to day,

This must be so. We pray you throw to earth

This vnpreuayling woe, and thinke of vs

As of a Father; For let the world take note,

You are the most immediate to our Throne,

And with no lesse Nobility of Loue,

Then that which deerest Father beares his Sonne,

Do I impart towards you. For your intent

In going backe to Schoole in Wittenberg,

It is most retrograde to our desire:

And we beseech you, bend you to remaine

Heere in the cheere and comfort of our eye,

Our cheefest Courtier Cosin, and our Sonne


Qu. Let not thy Mother lose her Prayers Hamlet:

I prythee stay with vs, go not to Wittenberg


Ham. I shall in all my best

Obey you Madam


King. Why 'tis a louing, and a faire Reply,

Be as our selfe in Denmarke. Madam come,

This gentle and vnforc'd accord of Hamlet

Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof,

No iocond health that Denmarke drinkes to day,

But the great Cannon to the Clowds shall tell,

And the Kings Rouce, the Heauens shall bruite againe,

Respeaking earthly Thunder. Come away.


Exeunt.


Manet Hamlet.


Ham. Oh that this too too solid Flesh, would melt,

Thaw, and resolue it selfe into a Dew:

Or that the Euerlasting had not fixt

His Cannon 'gainst Selfe-slaughter. O God, O God!

How weary, stale, flat, and vnprofitable

Seemes to me all the vses of this world?

Fie on't? Oh fie, fie, 'tis an vnweeded Garden

That growes to Seed: Things rank, and grosse in Nature

Possesse it meerely. That it should come to this:

But two months dead: Nay, not so much; not two,

So excellent a King, that was to this

Hiperion to a Satyre: so louing to my Mother,

That he might not beteene the windes of heauen

Visit her face too roughly. Heauen and Earth

Must I remember: why she would hang on him,

As if encrease of Appetite had growne

By what is fed on; and yet within a month?

Let me not thinke on't: Frailty, thy name is woman.

A little Month, or ere those shooes were old,

With which she followed my poore Fathers body

Like Niobe, all teares. Why she, euen she.

(O Heauen! A beast that wants discourse of Reason

Would haue mourn'd longer) married with mine Vnkle,

My Fathers Brother: but no more like my Father,

Then I to Hercules. Within a Moneth?

Ere yet the salt of most vnrighteous Teares

Had left the flushing of her gauled eyes,

She married. O most wicked speed, to post

With such dexterity to Incestuous sheets:

It is not, nor it cannot come to good.

But breake my heart, for I must hold my tongue.

Enter Horatio, Barnardo, and Marcellus.


Hor. Haile to your Lordship


Ham. I am glad to see you well:

Horatio, or I do forget my selfe


Hor. The same my Lord,

And your poore Seruant euer


Ham. Sir my good friend,

Ile 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 euen Sir.

But what in faith make you from Wittemberge?

Hor. A truant disposition, good my Lord


Ham. I would not haue your Enemy say so;

Nor shall you doe mine eare that violence,

To make it truster of your owne report

Against your selfe. I know you are no Truant:

But what is your affaire in Elsenour?

Wee'l teach you to drinke deepe, ere you depart


Hor. My Lord, I came to see your Fathers Funerall


Ham. I pray thee doe not mock me (fellow Student)

I thinke it was to see my Mothers Wedding


Hor. Indeed my Lord, it followed hard vpon


Ham. Thrift thrift Horatio: the Funerall Bakt-meats

Did coldly furnish forth the Marriage Tables;

Would I had met my dearest foe in heauen,

Ere I had euer seene that day Horatio.

My father, me thinkes I see my father


Hor. Oh 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 vpon his like againe


Hor. My Lord, I thinke I saw him yesternight


Ham. Saw? Who?

Hor. My Lord, the King your Father


Ham. The King my Father?

Hor. Season your admiration for a while

With an attent eare; till I may deliuer

Vpon the witnesse of these Gentlemen,

This maruell to you


Ham. For Heauens loue let me heare


Hor. Two nights together, had these Gentlemen

(Marcellus and Barnardo) on their Watch

In the dead wast and middle of the night

Beene thus encountred. A figure like your Father,

Arm'd at all points exactly, Cap a Pe,

Appeares before them, and with sollemne march

Goes slow and stately: By them thrice he walkt,

By their opprest and feare-surprized eyes,

Within his Truncheons length; whilst they bestil'd

Almost to Ielly with the Act of feare,

Stand dumbe and speake not to him. This to me

In dreadfull secrecie impart they did,

And I with them the third Night kept the Watch,

Whereas they had deliuer'd both in time,

Forme 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 vpon the platforme where we watcht


Ham. Did you not speake to it?

Hor. My Lord, I did;

But answere made it none: yet once me thought

It lifted vp it head, and did addresse

It selfe to motion, like as it would speake:

But euen then, the Morning Cocke crew lowd;

And at the sound it shrunke in hast away,

And vanisht from our sight


Ham. Tis very strange


Hor. As I doe liue my honourd Lord 'tis true;

And we did thinke it writ downe in our duty

To let you know of it


Ham. Indeed, indeed Sirs; but this troubles me.

Hold you the watch to Night?

Both. We doe my Lord


Ham. Arm'd, say you?

Both. Arm'd, my Lord


Ham. From top to toe?

Both. My Lord, from head to foote


Ham. Then saw you not his face?

Hor. O yes, my Lord, he wore his Beauer vp


Ham. What, lookt he frowningly?

Hor. A countenance more in sorrow then in anger


Ham. Pale, or red?

Hor. Nay very pale


Ham. And fixt his eyes vpon you?

Hor. Most constantly


Ham. I would I had beene there


Hor. It would haue much amaz'd you


Ham. Very like, very like: staid it long?

Hor. While one with moderate hast might tell a hundred


All. Longer, longer


Hor. Not when I saw't


Ham. His Beard was grisly? no


Hor. It was, as I haue seene it in his life,

A Sable Siluer'd


Ham. Ile watch to Night; perchance 'twill wake againe


Hor. I warrant you it will


Ham. If it assume my noble Fathers person,

Ile speake to it, though Hell it selfe should gape

And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,

If you haue hitherto conceald this sight;

Let it bee treble in your silence still:

And whatsoeuer els shall hap to night,

Giue it an vnderstanding but no tongue;

I will requite your loues; so fare ye well:

Vpon the Platforme twixt eleuen and twelue,

Ile visit you


All. Our duty to your Honour.


Exeunt


Ham. Your loue, as mine to you: farewell.

My Fathers Spirit in Armes? All is not well:

I doubt some foule play: would the Night were come;

Till then sit still my soule; foule deeds will rise,

Though all the earth orewhelm them to mens eies.

Enter.



Scena Tertia



Enter Laertes and Ophelia.


Laer. My necessaries are imbark't; Farewell:

And Sister, as the Winds giue Benefit,

And Conuoy is assistant; doe not sleepe,

But let me heare from you


Ophel. Doe you doubt that?

Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his fauours,

Hold it a fashion and a toy in Bloude;

A Violet in the youth of Primy Nature;

Froward, not permanent; sweet not lasting

The suppliance of a minute? No more


Ophel. No more but so


Laer. Thinke it no more:

For nature cressant does not grow alone,

In thewes and Bulke: but as his Temple waxes,

The inward seruice of the Minde and Soule

Growes wide withall. Perhaps he loues you now,

And now no soyle nor cautell doth besmerch

The vertue of his feare: but you must feare

His greatnesse weigh'd, his will is not his owne;

For hee himselfe is subiect to his Birth:

Hee may not, as vnuallued persons doe,

Carue for himselfe; for, on his choyce depends

The sanctity and health of the whole State.

And therefore must his choyce be circumscrib'd

Vnto the voyce and yeelding of that Body,

Whereof he is the Head. Then if he sayes he loues you,

It fits your wisedome so farre to beleeue it;

As he in his peculiar Sect and force

May giue his saying deed: which is no further,

Then the maine voyce of Denmarke goes withall.

Then weight what losse your Honour may sustaine,

If with too credent eare you list his Songs;

Or lose your Heart; or your chast Treasure open

To his vnmastred importunity.

Feare it Ophelia, feare it my deare Sister,

And keepe within the reare of your Affection;

Out of the shot and danger of Desire.

The chariest Maid is Prodigall enough,

If she vnmaske her beauty to the Moone:

Vertue it selfe scapes not calumnious stroakes,

The Canker Galls, the Infants of the Spring

Too oft before the buttons be disclos'd,

And in the Morne and liquid dew of Youth,

Contagious blastments are most imminent.

Be wary then, best safety lies in feare;

Youth to it selfe rebels, though none else neere


Ophe. I shall th' effect of this good Lesson keepe,

As watchmen to my heart: but good my Brother

Doe not as some vngracious Pastors doe,

Shew me the steepe and thorny way to Heauen;

Whilst like a puft and recklesse Libertine

Himselfe, the Primrose path of dalliance treads,

And reaks not his owne reade


Laer. Oh, feare me not.

Enter Polonius.


I stay too long; but here my Father comes:

A double blessing is a double grace;

Occasion smiles vpon a second leaue


Polon. Yet heere Laertes? Aboord, aboord for shame,

The winde sits in the shoulder of your saile,

And you are staid for there: my blessing with you;

And these few Precepts in thy memory,

See thou Character. Giue thy thoughts no tongue,

Nor any vnproportion'd thoughts his Act:

Be thou familiar; but by no meanes vulgar:

The friends thou hast, and their adoption tride,

Grapple them to thy Soule, with hoopes of Steele:

But doe not dull thy palme, with entertainment

Of each vnhatch't, vnfledg'd Comrade. Beware

Of entrance to a quarrell: but being in

Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee.

Giue euery man thine eare; but few thy voyce:

Take each mans censure; but reserue thy iudgement:

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy;

But not exprest in fancie; rich, not gawdie:

For the Apparell oft proclaimes the man.

And they in France of the best ranck and station,

Are of a most select and generous cheff in that.

Neither a borrower, nor a lender be;

For lone oft loses both it selfe and friend:

And borrowing duls the edge of Husbandry.

This aboue all; to thine owne selfe 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 doe I take my leaue, my Lord


Polon. The time inuites you, goe, your seruants tend


Laer. Farewell Ophelia, and remember well

What I haue said to you


Ophe. Tis in my memory lockt,

And you your selfe shall keepe the key of it


Laer. Farewell.


Exit Laer.


Polon. What ist Ophelia he hath said to you?

Ophe. So please you, somthing touching the L[ord]. Hamlet


Polon. Marry, well bethought:

Tis told me he hath very oft of late

Giuen priuate time to you; and you your selfe

Haue of your audience beene most free and bounteous.

If it be so, as so tis put on me;

And that in way of caution: I must tell you,

You doe not vnderstand your selfe so cleerely,

As it behoues my Daughter, and your Honour.

What is betweene you, giue me vp the truth?

Ophe. He hath my Lord of late, made many tenders

Of his affection to me


Polon. Affection, puh. You speake like a greene Girle,

Vnsifted in such perillous Circumstance.

Doe you beleeue his tenders, as you call them?

Ophe. I do not know, my Lord, what I should thinke


Polon. Marry Ile teach you; thinke your selfe a Baby,

That you haue tane his tenders for true pay,

Which are not starling. Tender your selfe more dearly;

Or not to crack the winde of the poore Phrase,

Roaming it thus, you'l tender me a foole


Ophe. My Lord, he hath importun'd me with loue,

In honourable fashion


Polon. I, fashion you may call it, go too, go too


Ophe. And hath giuen countenance to his speech,

My Lord, with all the vowes of Heauen


Polon. I, Springes to catch Woodcocks. I doe know

When the Bloud burnes, how Prodigall the Soule

Giues the tongue vowes: these blazes, Daughter,

Giuing more light then heate; extinct in both,

Euen in their promise, as it is a making;

You must not take for fire. For this time Daughter,

Be somewhat scanter of your Maiden presence;

Set your entreatments at a higher rate,

Then a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,

Beleeue so much in him, that he is young,

And with a larger tether may he walke,

Then may be giuen you. In few, Ophelia,

Doe not beleeue his vowes; for they are Broakers,

Not of the eye, which their Inuestments show:

But meere implorators of vnholy Sutes,

Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds,

The better to beguile. This is for all:

I would not, in plaine tearmes, from this time forth,

Haue you so slander any moment leisure,

As to giue words or talke with the Lord Hamlet:

Looke too't, I charge you; come your wayes


Ophe. I shall obey my Lord.


Exeunt.


Enter Hamlet, Horatio, Marcellus.


Ham. The Ayre bites shrewdly: is it very cold?

Hor. It is a nipping and an eager ayre


Ham. What hower now?

Hor. I thinke it lacks of twelue


Mar. No, it is strooke


Hor. Indeed I heard it not: then it drawes neere the season,

Wherein the Spirit held his wont to walke.

What does this meane my Lord?

Ham. The King doth wake to night, and takes his rouse,

Keepes wassels and the swaggering vpspring reeles,

And as he dreines his draughts of Renish downe,

The kettle Drum and Trumpet thus bray out

The triumph of his Pledge


Horat. Is it a custome?

Ham. I marry ist;

And to my mind, though I am natiue heere,

And to the manner borne: It is a Custome

More honour'd in the breach, then the obseruance.

Enter Ghost.


Hor. Looke my Lord, it comes


Ham. Angels and Ministers of Grace defend vs:

Be thou a Spirit of health, or Goblin damn'd,

Bring with thee ayres from Heauen, or blasts from Hell,

Be thy euents wicked or charitable,

Thou com'st in such a questionable shape

That I will speake to thee. Ile call thee Hamlet,

King, Father, Royall Dane: Oh, oh, answer me,

Let me not burst in Ignorance; but tell

Why thy Canoniz'd bones Hearsed in death,

Haue burst their cerments, why the Sepulcher

Wherein we saw thee quietly enurn'd,

Hath op'd his ponderous and Marble iawes,

To cast thee vp againe? What may this meane?

That thou dead Coarse againe in compleat steele,

Reuisits thus the glimpses of the Moone,

Making Night hidious? And we fooles of Nature,

So horridly to shake our disposition,

With thoughts beyond thee; reaches of our Soules,

Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we doe?


Ghost beckens Hamlet.


Hor. It beckons you to goe away with it,

As if it some impartment did desire

To you alone


Mar. Looke with what courteous action

It wafts you to a more remoued ground:

But doe not goe with it


Hor. No, by no meanes


Ham. It will not speake: then will I follow it


Hor. Doe not my Lord


Ham. Why, what should be the feare?

I doe not set my life at a pins fee;

And for my Soule, what can it doe to that?

Being a thing immortall as it selfe:

It waues me forth againe; Ile follow it


Hor. What if it tempt you toward the Floud my Lord?

Or to the dreadfull Sonnet of the Cliffe,

That beetles o're his base into the Sea,

And there assumes some other horrible forme,

Which might depriue your Soueraignty of Reason,

And draw you into madnesse thinke of it?

Ham. It wafts me still: goe on, Ile follow thee


Mar. You shall not goe my Lord


Ham. Hold off your hand


Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not goe


Ham. My fate cries out,

And makes each petty Artire in this body,

As hardy as the Nemian Lions nerue:

Still am I cal'd? Vnhand me Gentlemen:

By Heau'n, Ile make a Ghost of him that lets me:

I say away, goe on, Ile follow thee.


Exeunt. Ghost & Hamlet.


Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination


Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him


Hor. Haue after, to what issue will this come?

Mar. Something is rotten in the State of Denmarke


Hor. Heauen will direct it


Mar. Nay, let's follow him.


Exeunt.


Enter Ghost and Hamlet.


Ham. Where wilt thou lead me? speak; Ile go no further


Gho. Marke me


Ham. I will


Gho. My hower is almost come,

When I to sulphurous and tormenting Flames

Must render vp my selfe


Ham. Alas poore Ghost


Gho. Pitty me not, but lend thy serious hearing

To what I shall vnfold


Ham. Speake, I am bound to heare


Gho. So art thou to reuenge, when thou shalt heare


Ham. What?

Gho. I am thy Fathers Spirit,

Doom'd for a certaine terme to walke the night;

And for the day confin'd to fast in Fiers,

Till the foule crimes done in my dayes of Nature

Are burnt and purg'd away? But that I am forbid

To tell the secrets of my Prison-House;

I could a Tale vnfold, whose lightest word

Would harrow vp thy soule, freeze thy young blood,

Make thy two eyes like Starres, start from their Spheres,

Thy knotty and combined lockes to part,

And each particular haire to stand an end,

Like Quilles vpon the fretfull Porpentine:

But this eternall blason must not be

To eares of flesh and bloud; list Hamlet, oh list,

If thou didst euer thy deare Father loue


Ham. Oh Heauen!

Gho. Reuenge his foule and most vnnaturall Murther


Ham. Murther?

Ghost. Murther most foule, as in the best it is;

But this most foule, strange, and vnnaturall


Ham. Hast, hast me to know it,

That with wings as swift

As meditation, or the thoughts of Loue,

May sweepe to my Reuenge


Ghost. I finde thee apt,

And duller should'st thou be then the fat weede

That rots it selfe in ease, on Lethe Wharfe,

Would'st thou not stirre in this. Now Hamlet heare:

It's giuen out, that sleeping in mine Orchard,

A Serpent stung me: so the whole eare of Denmarke,

Is by a forged processe of my death

Rankly abus'd: But know thou Noble youth,

The Serpent that did sting thy Fathers life,

Now weares his Crowne


Ham. O my Propheticke soule: mine Vncle?

Ghost. I that incestuous, that adulterate Beast

With witchcraft of his wits, hath Traitorous guifts.

Oh wicked Wit, and Gifts, that haue the power

So to seduce? Won to this shamefull Lust

The will of my most seeming vertuous Queene:

Oh Hamlet, what a falling off was there,

From me, whose loue was of that dignity,

That it went hand in hand, euen with the Vow

I made to her in Marriage; and to decline

Vpon a wretch, whose Naturall gifts were poore

To those of mine. But Vertue, as it neuer wil be moued,

Though Lewdnesse court it in a shape of Heauen:

So Lust, though to a radiant Angell link'd,

Will sate it selfe in a Celestiall bed, & prey on Garbage.

But soft, me thinkes I sent the Mornings Ayre;

Briefe let me be: Sleeping within mine Orchard,

My custome alwayes in the afternoone;

Vpon my secure hower thy Vncle stole

With iuyce of cursed Hebenon in a Violl,

And in the Porches of mine eares did poure

The leaperous Distilment; whose effect

Holds such an enmity with bloud of Man,

That swift as Quick-siluer, it courses through

The naturall Gates and Allies of the body;

And with a sodaine vigour it doth posset

And curd, like Aygre droppings into Milke,

The thin and wholsome blood: so did it mine;

And a most instant Tetter bak'd about,

Most Lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust,

All my smooth Body.

Thus was I, sleeping, by a Brothers hand,

Of Life, of Crowne, and Queene at once dispatcht;

Cut off euen in the Blossomes of my Sinne,

Vnhouzzled, disappointed, vnnaneld,

No reckoning made, but sent to my account

With all my imperfections on my head;

Oh horrible Oh horrible, most horrible:

If thou hast nature in thee beare it not;

Let not the Royall Bed of Denmarke be

A Couch for Luxury and damned Incest.

But howsoeuer thou pursuest this Act,

Taint not thy mind; nor let thy Soule contriue

Against thy Mother ought; leaue her to heauen,

And to those Thornes that in her bosome lodge,

To pricke and sting her. Fare thee well at once;

The Glow-worme showes the Matine to be neere,

And gins to pale his vneffectuall Fire:

Adue, adue, Hamlet: remember me.

Enter.


Ham. Oh all you host of Heauen! Oh Earth; what els?

And shall I couple Hell? Oh fie: hold my heart;

And you my sinnewes, grow not instant Old;

But beare me stiffely vp: Remember thee?

I, thou poore Ghost, while memory holds a seate

In this distracted Globe: Remember thee?

Yea, from the Table of my Memory,

Ile wipe away all triuiall fond Records,

All sawes of Bookes, all formes, all presures past,

That youth and obseruation coppied there;

And thy Commandment all alone shall liue

Within the Booke and Volume of my Braine,

Vnmixt with baser matter; yes yes, by Heauen:

Oh most pernicious woman!

Oh Villaine, Villaine, smiling damned Villaine!

My Tables, my Tables; meet it is I set it downe,

That one may smile, and smile and be a Villaine;

At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmarke;

So Vnckle there you are: now to my word;

It is; Adue, Adue, Remember me: I haue sworn't


Hor. & Mar. within. My Lord, my Lord.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.


Mar. Lord Hamlet


Hor. Heauen secure him


Mar. So be it


Hor. Illo, ho, ho, my Lord


Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy; come bird, come


Mar. How ist my Noble Lord?

Hor. What newes, my Lord?

Ham. Oh wonderfull!

Hor. Good my Lord tell it


Ham. No you'l reueale it


Hor. Not I, my Lord, by Heauen


Mar. Nor I, my Lord


Ham. How say you then, would heart of man once think it?

But you'l be secret?

Both. I, by Heau'n, my Lord


Ham. There's nere a villaine dwelling in all Denmarke

But hee's an arrant knaue


Hor. There needs no Ghost my Lord, come from the

Graue, to tell vs this


Ham. Why right, you are i'th' right;

And so, without more circumstance at all,

I hold it fit that we shake hands, and part:

You, as your busines and desires shall point you:

For euery man ha's businesse and desire,

Such as it is: and for mine owne poore part,

Looke you, Ile goe pray


Hor. These are but wild and hurling words, my Lord


Ham. I'm sorry they offend you heartily:

Yes faith, heartily


Hor. There's no offence my Lord


Ham. Yes, by Saint Patricke, but there is my Lord,

And much offence too, touching this Vision heere:

It is an honest Ghost, that let me tell you:

For your desire to know what is betweene vs,

O'remaster't as you may. And now good friends,

As you are Friends, Schollers and Soldiers,

Giue me one poore request


Hor. What is't my Lord? we will


Ham. Neuer make known what you haue seen to night


Both. My Lord, we will not


Ham. Nay, but swear't


Hor. Infaith my Lord, not I


Mar. Nor I my Lord: in faith


Ham. Vpon my sword


Marcell. We haue sworne my Lord already


Ham. Indeed, vpon my sword, Indeed


Gho. Sweare.


Ghost cries vnder the Stage.


Ham. Ah ha boy, sayest thou so. Art thou there truepenny?

Come one you here this fellow in the selleredge

Consent to sweare


Hor. Propose the Oath my Lord


Ham. Neuer to speake of this that you haue seene.

Sweare by my sword


Gho. Sweare


Ham. Hic & vbique? Then wee'l shift for grownd,

Come hither Gentlemen,

And lay your hands againe vpon my sword,

Neuer to speake of this that you haue heard:

Sweare by my Sword


Gho. Sweare


Ham. Well said old Mole, can'st worke i'th' ground so fast?

A worthy Pioner, once more remoue good friends


Hor. Oh day and night: but this is wondrous strange


Ham. And therefore as a stranger giue it welcome.

There are more things in Heauen and Earth, Horatio,

Then are dream't of in our Philosophy. But come,

Here as before, neuer so helpe you mercy,

How strange or odde so ere I beare my selfe;

(As I perchance heereafter shall thinke meet

To put an Anticke disposition on:)

That you at such time seeing me, neuer shall

With Armes encombred thus, or thus, head shake;

Or by pronouncing of some doubtfull Phrase;

As well, we know, or we could and if we would,

Or if we list to speake; or there be and if there might,

Or such ambiguous giuing out to note,

That you know ought of me; this not to doe:

So grace and mercy at your most neede helpe you:

Sweare


Ghost. Sweare


Ham. Rest, rest perturbed Spirit: so Gentlemen,

With all my loue I doe commend me to you;

And what so poore a man as Hamlet is,

May doe t' expresse his loue and friending to you,

God willing shall not lacke: let vs goe in together,

And still your fingers on your lippes I pray,

The time is out of ioynt: Oh cursed spight,

That euer I was borne to set it right.

Nay, come let's goe together.


Exeunt.



Actus Secundus.


Enter Polonius, and Reynoldo.


Polon. Giue him his money, and these notes Reynoldo


Reynol. I will my Lord


Polon. You shall doe maruels wisely: good Reynoldo,

Before you visite him you make inquiry

Of his behauiour


Reynol. My Lord, I did intend it


Polon. Marry, well said;

Very well said. Looke you Sir,

Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris;

And how, and who; what meanes; and where they keepe:

What company, at what expence: and finding

By this encompassement and drift of question,

That they doe know my sonne: Come you more neerer

Then your particular demands will touch it,

Take you as 'twere some distant knowledge of him,

And thus I know his father and his friends,

And in part him. Doe you marke this Reynoldo?

Reynol. I, very well my Lord


Polon. And in part him, but you may say not well;

But if't be hee I meane, hees very wilde;

Addicted so and so; and there put on him

What forgeries you please; marry, none so ranke,

As may dishonour him; take heed of that:

But Sir, such wanton, wild, and vsuall slips,

As are Companions noted and most knowne

To youth and liberty


Reynol. As gaming my Lord


Polon. I, or drinking, fencing, swearing,

Quarelling, drabbing. You may goe so farre


Reynol. My Lord that would dishonour him


Polon. Faith no, as you may season it in the charge;

You must not put another scandall on him,

That hee is open to Incontinencie;

That's not my meaning: but breath his faults so quaintly,

That they may seeme the taints of liberty;

The flash and out-breake of a fiery minde,

A sauagenes in vnreclaim'd bloud of generall assault


Reynol. But my good Lord


Polon. Wherefore should you doe this?

Reynol. I my Lord, I would know that


Polon. Marry Sir, heere's my drift,

And I belieue it is a fetch of warrant:

You laying these slight sulleyes on my Sonne,

As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i'th' working:

Marke you your party in conuerse; him you would sound,

Hauing euer seene. In the prenominate crimes,

The youth you breath of guilty, be assur'd

He closes with you in this consequence:

Good sir, or so, or friend, or Gentleman.

According to the Phrase and the Addition,

Of man and Country


Reynol. Very good my Lord


Polon. And then Sir does he this?

He does: what was I about to say?

I was about say somthing: where did I leaue?

Reynol. At closes in the consequence:

At friend, or so, and Gentleman


Polon. At closes in the consequence, I marry,

He closes with you thus. I know the Gentleman,

I saw him yesterday, or tother day;

Or then or then, with such and such; and as you say,

There was he gaming, there o'retooke in's Rouse,

There falling out at Tennis; or perchance,

I saw him enter such a house of saile;

Videlicet, a Brothell, or so forth. See you now;

Your bait of falshood, takes this Cape of truth;

And thus doe we of wisedome and of reach

With windlesses, and with assaies of Bias,

By indirections finde directions out:

So by my former Lecture and aduice

Shall you my Sonne; you haue me, haue you not?

Reynol. My Lord I haue


Polon. God buy you; fare you well


Reynol. Good my Lord


Polon. Obserue his inclination in your selfe


Reynol. I shall my Lord


Polon. And let him plye his Musicke


Reynol. Well, my Lord.

Enter.


Enter Ophelia.


Polon. Farewell:

How now Ophelia, what's the matter?

Ophe. Alas my Lord, I haue beene so affrighted


Polon. With what, in the name of Heauen?

Ophe. My Lord, as I was sowing in my Chamber,

Lord Hamlet with his doublet all vnbrac'd,

No hat vpon his head, his stockings foul'd,

Vngartred, and downe giued to his Anckle,

Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other,

And with a looke so pitious in purport,

As if he had been loosed out of hell,

To speake of horrors: he comes before me


Polon. Mad for thy Loue?

Ophe. My Lord, I doe not know: but truly I do feare it


Polon. What said he?

Ophe. He tooke me by the wrist, and held me hard;

Then goes he to the length of all his arme;

And with his other hand thus o're his brow,

He fals to such perusall of my face,

As he would draw it. Long staid he so,

At last, a little shaking of mine Arme:

And thrice his head thus wauing vp and downe;

He rais'd a sigh, so pittious and profound,

That it did seeme to shatter all his bulke,

And end his being. That done, he lets me goe,

And with his head ouer his shoulders turn'd,

He seem'd to finde his way without his eyes,

For out adores he went without their helpe;

And to the last, bended their light on me


Polon. Goe with me, I will goe seeke the King,

This is the very extasie of Loue,

Whose violent property foredoes it selfe,

And leads the will to desperate Vndertakings,

As oft as any passion vnder Heauen,

That does afflict our Natures. I am sorrie,

What haue you giuen him any hard words of late?

Ophe. No my good Lord: but as you did command,

I did repell his Letters, and deny'de

His accesse to me


Pol. That hath made him mad.

I am sorrie that with better speed and iudgement

I had not quoted him. I feare he did but trifle,

And meant to wracke thee: but beshrew my iealousie:

It seemes it is as proper to our Age,

To cast beyond our selues in our Opinions,

As it is common for the yonger sort

To lacke discretion. Come, go we to the King,

This must be knowne, being kept close might moue

More greefe to hide, then hate to vtter loue.


Exeunt.



Scena Secunda.


Enter King, Queene, Rosincrane, and Guildensterne Cum alijs.


King. Welcome deere Rosincrance and Guildensterne.

Moreouer, that we much did long to see you,

The neede we haue to vse you, did prouoke

Our hastie sending. Something haue you heard

Of Hamlets transformation: so I call it,

Since not th' exterior, nor the inward man

Resembles that it was. What it should bee

More then his Fathers death, that thus hath put him

So much from th' vnderstanding of himselfe,

I cannot deeme of. I intreat you both,

That being of so young dayes brought vp with him:

And since so Neighbour'd to his youth, and humour,

That you vouchsafe your rest heere in our Court

Some little time: so by your Companies

To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather

So much as from Occasions you may gleane,

That open'd lies within our remedie


Qu. Good Gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you,

And sure I am, two men there are not liuing,

To whom he more adheres. If it will please you

To shew vs so much Gentrie, and good will,

As to expend your time with vs a-while,

For the supply and profit of our Hope,

Your Visitation shall receiue such thankes

As fits a Kings remembrance


Rosin. Both your Maiesties

Might by the Soueraigne power you haue of vs,

Put your dread pleasures, more into Command

Then to Entreatie


Guil. We both obey,

And here giue vp our selues, in the full bent,

To lay our Seruices freely at your feete,

To be commanded


King. Thankes Rosincrance, and gentle Guildensterne


Qu. Thankes Guildensterne and gentle Rosincrance.

And I beseech you instantly to visit

My too much changed Sonne.

Go some of ye,

And bring the Gentlemen where Hamlet is


Guil. Heauens make our presence and our practises

Pleasant and helpfull to him.

Enter.


Queene. Amen.

Enter Polonius.


Pol. Th' Ambassadors from Norwey, my good Lord,

Are ioyfully return'd


King. Thou still hast bin the father of good Newes


Pol. Haue I, my Lord? Assure you, my good Liege,

I hold my dutie, as I hold my Soule,

Both to my God, one to my gracious King:

And I do thinke, or else this braine of mine

Hunts not the traile of Policie, so sure

As I haue vs'd to do: that I haue found

The very cause of Hamlets Lunacie


King. Oh speake of that, that I do long to heare


Pol. Giue first admittance to th' Ambassadors,

My Newes shall be the Newes to that great Feast


King. Thy selfe do grace to them, and bring them in.

He tels me my sweet Queene, that he hath found

The head and sourse of all your Sonnes distemper


Qu. I doubt it is no other, but the maine,

His Fathers death, and our o're-hasty Marriage.

Enter Polonius, Voltumand, and Cornelius.


King. Well, we shall sift him. Welcome good Frends:

Say Voltumand, what from our Brother Norwey?

Volt. Most faire returne of Greetings, and Desires.

Vpon our first, he sent out to suppresse

His Nephewes Leuies, which to him appear'd

To be a preparation 'gainst the Poleak:

But better look'd into, he truly found

It was against your Highnesse, whereat greeued,

That so his Sicknesse, Age, and Impotence

Was falsely borne in hand, sends out Arrests

On Fortinbras, which he (in breefe) obeyes,

Receiues rebuke from Norwey: and in fine,

Makes Vow before his Vnkle, neuer more

To giue th' assay of Armes against your Maiestie.

Whereon old Norwey, ouercome with ioy,

Giues him three thousand Crownes in Annuall Fee,

And his Commission to imploy those Soldiers

So leuied as before, against the Poleak:

With an intreaty heerein further shewne,

That it might please you to giue quiet passe

Through your Dominions, for his Enterprize,

On such regards of safety and allowance,

As therein are set downe


King. It likes vs well:

And at our more consider'd time wee'l read,

Answer, and thinke vpon this Businesse.

Meane time we thanke you, for your well-tooke Labour.

Go to your rest, at night wee'l Feast together.

Most welcome home.


Exit Ambass.


Pol. This businesse is very well ended.

My Liege, and Madam, to expostulate

What Maiestie should be, what Dutie is,

Why day is day; night, night; and time is time,

Were nothing but to waste Night, Day, and Time.

Therefore, since Breuitie is the Soule of Wit,

And tediousnesse, the limbes and outward flourishes,

I will be breefe. Your Noble Sonne is mad:

Mad call I it; for to define true Madnesse,

What is't, but to be nothing else but mad.

But let that go


Qu. More matter, with lesse Art


Pol. Madam, I sweare I vse no Art at all:

That he is mad, 'tis true: 'Tis true 'tis pittie,

And pittie it is true: A foolish figure,

But farewell it: for I will vse no Art.

Mad let vs grant him then: and now remaines

That we finde out the cause of this effect,

Or rather say, the cause of this defect;

For this effect defectiue, comes by cause,

Thus it remaines, and the remainder thus. Perpend,

I haue a daughter: haue, whil'st she is mine,

Who in her Dutie and Obedience, marke,

Hath giuen me this: now gather, and surmise.


The Letter.


To the Celestiall, and my Soules Idoll, the most beautifed Ophelia.

That's an ill Phrase, a vilde Phrase, beautified is a vilde

Phrase: but you shall heare these in her excellent white

bosome, these


Qu. Came this from Hamlet to her


Pol. Good Madam stay awhile, I will be faithfull.

Doubt thou, the Starres are fire,

Doubt, that the Sunne doth moue:

Doubt Truth to be a Lier,

But neuer Doubt, I loue.

O deere Ophelia, I am ill at these Numbers: I haue not Art to

reckon my grones; but that I loue thee best, oh most Best beleeue

it. Adieu.

Thine euermore most deere Lady, whilst this

Machine is to him, Hamlet.

This in Obedience hath my daughter shew'd me:

And more aboue hath his soliciting,

As they fell out by Time, by Meanes, and Place,

All giuen to mine eare


King. But how hath she receiu'd his Loue?

Pol. What do you thinke of me?

King. As of a man, faithfull and Honourable


Pol. I wold faine proue so. But what might you think?

When I had seene this hot loue on the wing,

As I perceiued it, I must tell you that

Before my Daughter told me what might you

Or my deere Maiestie your Queene heere, think,

If I had playd the Deske or Table-booke,

Or giuen my heart a winking, mute and dumbe,

Or look'd vpon this Loue, with idle sight,

What might you thinke? No, I went round to worke,

And (my yong Mistris) thus I did bespeake

Lord Hamlet is a Prince out of thy Starre,

This must not be: and then, I Precepts gaue her,

That she should locke her selfe from his Resort,

Admit no Messengers, receiue no Tokens:

Which done, she tooke the Fruites of my Aduice,

And he repulsed. A short Tale to make,

Fell into a Sadnesse, then into a Fast,

Thence to a Watch, thence into a Weaknesse,

Thence to a Lightnesse, and by this declension

Into the Madnesse whereon now he raues,

And all we waile for


King. Do you thinke 'tis this?

Qu. It may be very likely


Pol. Hath there bene such a time, I'de fain know that,

That I haue possitiuely said, 'tis so,

When it prou'd otherwise?

King. Not that I know


Pol. Take this from this; if this be otherwise,

If Circumstances leade me, I will finde

Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeede

Within the Center


King. How may we try it further?

Pol. You know sometimes

He walkes foure houres together, heere

In the Lobby


Qu. So he ha's indeed


Pol. At such a time Ile loose my Daughter to him,

Be you and I behinde an Arras then,

Marke the encounter: If he loue her not,

And be not from his reason falne thereon;

Let me be no Assistant for a State,

And keepe a Farme and Carters


King. We will try it.

Enter Hamlet reading on a Booke.


Qu. But looke where sadly the poore wretch

Comes reading


Pol. Away I do beseech you, both away,

Ile boord him presently.


Exit King & Queen.


Oh giue me leaue. How does my good Lord Hamlet?

Ham. Well, God-a-mercy


Pol. Do you know me, my Lord?

Ham. Excellent, excellent well: y'are a Fishmonger


Pol. Not I my Lord


Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man


Pol. Honest, my Lord?

Ham. I sir, to be honest as this world goes, is to bee

one man pick'd out of two thousand


Pol. That's very true, my Lord


Ham. For if the Sun breed Magots in a dead dogge,

being a good kissing Carrion Haue you a daughter?

Pol. I haue my Lord


Ham. Let her not walke i'thSunne: Conception is a

blessing, but not as your daughter may conceiue. Friend

looke too't


Pol. 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 farre gone, farre gone: and truly in my youth,

I suffred much extreamity for loue: very neere this. Ile

speake to him againe. What do you read my Lord?

Ham. Words, words, words


Pol. What is the matter, my Lord?

Ham. Betweene who?

Pol. I meane the matter you meane, my Lord


Ham. Slanders Sir: for the Satyricall slaue saies here,

that old men haue gray Beards; that their faces are wrinkled;

their eyes purging thicke Amber, or Plum-Tree

Gumme: and that they haue a plentifull locke of Wit,

together with weake Hammes. All which Sir, though I

most powerfully, and potently beleeue; yet I holde it

not Honestie to haue it thus set downe: For you your

selfe Sir, should be old as I am, if like a Crab you could

go backward


Pol. Though this be madnesse,

Yet there is Method in't: will you walke

Out of the ayre my Lord?

Ham. Into my Graue?

Pol. Indeed that is out o'th' Ayre:

How pregnant (sometimes) his Replies are?

A happinesse,

That often Madnesse hits on,

Which Reason and Sanitie could not

So prosperously be deliuer'd of.

I will leaue him,

And sodainely contriue the meanes of meeting

Betweene him, and my daughter.

My Honourable Lord, I will most humbly

Take my leaue of you


Ham. You cannot Sir take from me any thing, that I

will more willingly part withall, except my life, my

life


Polon. Fare you well my Lord


Ham. These tedious old fooles


Polon. You goe to seeke my Lord Hamlet; there

hee is.

Enter Rosincran and Guildensterne.


Rosin. God saue you Sir


Guild. Mine honour'd Lord?

Rosin. My most deare Lord?

Ham. My excellent good friends? How do'st thou

Guildensterne? Oh, Rosincrane; good Lads: How doe ye

both?

Rosin. As the indifferent Children of the earth


Guild. Happy, in that we are not ouer-happy: on Fortunes

Cap, we are not the very Button


Ham. Nor the Soales of her Shoo?

Rosin. Neither my Lord


Ham. Then you liue about her waste, or in the middle

of her fauour?

Guil. Faith, her priuates, we


Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? Oh, most true:

she is a Strumpet. What's the newes?

Rosin. None my Lord; but that the World's growne

honest


Ham. Then is Doomesday neere: But your newes is

not true. Let me question more in particular: what haue

you my good friends, deserued at the hands of Fortune,

that she sends you to Prison hither?

Guil. Prison, my Lord?

Ham. Denmark's a Prison


Rosin. Then is the World one


Ham. A goodly one, in which there are many Confines,

Wards, and Dungeons; Denmarke being one o'th'

worst


Rosin. We thinke not so my Lord


Ham. Why then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing

either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me it is

a prison


Rosin. Why then your Ambition makes it one: 'tis

too narrow for your minde


Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and

count my selfe a King of infinite space; were it not that

I haue bad dreames


Guil. Which dreames indeed are Ambition: for the

very substance of the Ambitious, is meerely the shadow

of a Dreame


Ham. A dreame it selfe is but a shadow


Rosin. Truely, and I hold Ambition of so ayry and

light a quality, that it is but a shadowes shadow


Ham. Then are our Beggers bodies; and our Monarchs

and out-stretcht Heroes the Beggers Shadowes:

shall wee to th' Court: for, by my fey I cannot reason?

Both. Wee'l wait vpon you


Ham. No such matter. I will not sort you with the

rest of my seruants: for to speake to you like an honest

man: I am most dreadfully attended; but in the beaten

way of friendship, What make you at Elsonower?

Rosin. To visit you my Lord, no other occasion


Ham. Begger that I am, I am euen poore in thankes;

but I thanke you: and sure deare friends my thanks

are too deare a halfepeny; were you not sent for? Is it

your owne inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come,

deale iustly with me: come, come; nay speake


Guil. What should we say my Lord?

Ham. Why any thing. But to the purpose; you were

sent for; and there is a kinde confession in your lookes;

which your modesties haue not craft enough to color,

I know the good King & Queene haue sent for you


Rosin. To what end my Lord?

Ham. That you must teach me: but let mee coniure

you by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of

our youth, by the Obligation of our euer-preserued loue,

and by what more deare, a better proposer could charge

you withall; be euen and direct with me, whether you

were sent for or no


Rosin. What say you?

Ham. Nay then I haue an eye of you: if you loue me

hold not off


Guil. My Lord, we were sent for


Ham. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation

preuent your discouery of your secricie to the King and

Queene: moult no feather, I haue of late, but wherefore

I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all custome of exercise;

and indeed, it goes so heauenly with my disposition;

that this goodly frame the Earth, seemes to me a sterrill

Promontory; this most excellent Canopy the Ayre,

look you, this braue ore-hanging, this Maiesticall Roofe,

fretted with golden fire: why, it appeares no other thing

to mee, then a foule and pestilent congregation of vapours.

What a piece of worke is a man! how Noble in

Reason? how infinite in faculty? in forme and mouing

how expresse and admirable? in Action, how like an Angel?

in apprehension, how like a God? the beauty of the

world, the Parragon 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 seeme

to say so


Rosin. My Lord, there was no such stuffe in my

thoughts


Ham. Why did you laugh, when I said, Man delights

not me?

Rosin. To thinke, my Lord, if you delight not in Man,

what Lenton entertainment the Players shall receiue

from you: wee coated them on the way, and hither are

they comming to offer you Seruice


Ham. He that playes the King shall be welcome; his

Maiesty shall haue Tribute of mee: the aduenturous

Knight shal vse his Foyle and Target: the Louer shall

not sigh gratis, the humorous man shall end his part in

peace: the Clowne shall make those laugh whose lungs

are tickled a'th' sere: and the Lady shall say her minde

freely; or the blanke Verse shall halt for't: what Players

are they?

Rosin. Euen those you were wont to take delight in

the Tragedians of the City


Ham. How chances it they trauaile? their residence

both in reputation and profit was better both

wayes


Rosin. I thinke their Inhibition comes by the meanes

of the late Innouation?

Ham. Doe they hold the same estimation they did

when I was in the City? Are they so follow'd?

Rosin. No indeed, they are not


Ham. How comes it? doe they grow rusty?

Rosin. Nay, their indeauour keepes in the wonted

pace; But there is Sir an ayrie of Children, little

Yases, that crye out on the top of question; and

are most tyrannically clap't for't: these are now the

fashion, and so be-ratled the common Stages (so they

call them) that many wearing Rapiers, are affraide of

Goose-quils, and dare scarse come thither


Ham. What are they Children? Who maintains 'em?

How are they escorted? Will they pursue the Quality no

longer then they can sing? Will they not say afterwards

if they should grow themselues to common Players (as

it is most like if their meanes are not better) their Writers

do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their

owne Succession


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 of

Braines


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 the

Winde 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'st

thou?

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 daughter

that 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, It

came to passe, as most like it was: The first rowe of the

Pons Chanson will shew you more. For looke where my

Abridgements 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 falles

Repugnant 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 top

Stoopes to his Bace, and with a hideous crash

Takes Prisoner Pyrrhus eare. For loe, his Sword

Which was declining on the Milkie head

Of 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 below

As hush as death: Anon the dreadfull Thunder

Doth rend the Region. So after Pyrrhus pause,

A rowsed Vengeance sets him new a-worke,

And neuer did the Cyclops hammers fall

On Mars his Armours, forg'd for proofe Eterne,

With lesse remorse then Pyrrhus bleeding sword

Now 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 flame

With Bisson Rheume: A clout about that head,

Where late the Diadem stood, and for a Robe

About 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 sport

In 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, and

ha'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 the

murther of Gonzago?

Play. I my Lord


Ham. Wee'l ha't to morrow night. You could for a

need study a speech of some dosen or sixteene lines, which

I would set downe, and insert in't? Could ye not?

Play. I my Lord


Ham. Very well. Follow that Lord, and looke you

mock him not. My good Friends, Ile leaue you til night

you 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 suiting

With 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 passion

That 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, peake

Like 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 Gall

To make Oppression bitter, or ere this,

I should haue fatted all the Region Kites

With 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 presently

They haue proclaim'd their Malefactions.

For Murther, though it haue no tongue, will speake

With 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 blench

I know my course. The Spirit that I haue seene

May be the Diuell, and the Diuel hath power

T' assume a pleasing shape, yea and perhaps

Out of my Weaknesse, and my Melancholly,

As he is very potent with such Spirits,

Abuses me to damne me. Ile haue grounds

More Relatiue then this: The Play's the thing,

Wherein Ile catch the Conscience of the King.


Exit


Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance,

Guildenstern, and

Lords.


King. And can you by no drift of circumstance

Get from him why he puts on this Confusion:

Grating so harshly all his dayes of quiet

With 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 Confession

Of 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 demands

Most free in his reply


Qu. Did you assay him to any pastime?

Rosin. Madam, it so fell out, that certaine Players

We ore-wrought on the way: of these we told him,

And there did seeme in him a kinde of ioy

To heare of it: They are about the Court,

And (as I thinke) they haue already order

This night to play before him


Pol. 'Tis most true:

And he beseech'd me to intreate your Maiesties

To heare, and see the matter


King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me

To heare him so inclin'd. Good Gentlemen,

Giue him a further edge, and driue his purpose on

To 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 there

Affront Ophelia. Her Father, and my selfe (lawful espials)

Will so bestow our selues, that seeing vnseene

We 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 wish

That your good Beauties be the happy cause

Of Hamlets wildenesse: so shall I hope your Vertues

Will 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 ye

We will bestow our selues: Reade on this booke,

That shew of such an exercise may colour

Your lonelinesse. We are oft too blame in this,

'Tis too much prou'd, that with Deuotions visage,

And pious Action, we do surge o're

The diuell himselfe


King. Oh 'tis true:

How smart a lash that speech doth giue my Conscience?

The Harlots Cheeke beautied with plaist'ring Art

Is 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 suffer

The Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune,

Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepe

No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end

The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes

That Flesh is heyre too? 'Tis a consummation

Deuoutly 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 respect

That 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 Spurnes

That patient merit of the vnworthy takes,

When he himselfe might his Quietus make

With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare

To grunt and sweat vnder a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The vndiscouered Countrey, from whose Borne

No 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 Resolution

Is 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 Orizons

Be 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 minde

Rich 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 Honesty

should 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 disclose

Will be some danger, which to preuent

I haue in quicke determination

Thus set it downe. He shall with speed to England

For the demand of our neglected Tribute:

Haply the Seas and Countries different

With variable Obiects, shall expell

This something setled matter in his heart:

Whereon his Braines still beating, puts him thus

From fashion of himselfe. What thinke you on't?

Pol. It shall do well. But yet do I beleeue

The Origin and Commencement of this greefe

Sprung 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 him

To shew his Greefes: let her be round with him,

And Ile be plac'd so, please you in the eare

Of all their Conference. If she finde him not,

To England send him: Or confine him where

Your 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 man

As 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 spirits

To 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 election

Hath seal'd thee for her selfe. For thou hast bene

As one in suffering all, that suffers nothing.

A man that Fortunes buffets, and Rewards

Hath '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 him

In 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 Circumstance

Which 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 Soule

Obserue 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 foule

As 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, and

other Lords attendant with his Guard carrying Torches. Danish

March. Sound

a 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 eate

the Ayre promise-cramm'd, you cannot feed Capons so


King. I haue nothing with this answer Hamlet, these

words are not mine


Ham. No, nor mine. Now my Lord, you plaid once

i'th' Vniuersity, you say?

Polon. That I did my Lord, and was accounted a good

Actor


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 a

Calfe 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 legs

Ophe. 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 embracing

him. She

kneeles, and makes shew of Protestation vnto him. He takes her

vp, and

declines his head vpon her neck. Layes him downe vpon a Banke

of Flowers.

She seeing him a-sleepe, leaues him. Anon comes in a Fellow,

takes off his

Crowne, kisses it, and powres poyson in the Kings eares, and

Exits. The

Queene returnes, findes the King dead, and makes passionate

Action. The

Poysoner, with some two or three Mutes comes in againe, seeming

to lament

with her. The dead body is carried away: The Poysoner Wooes the

Queene with

Gifts, she seemes loath and vnwilling awhile, but in the end,

accepts his

loue.


Exeunt.


Ophe. What meanes this, my Lord?

Ham. Marry this is Miching Malicho, that meanes

Mischeefe


Ophe. Belike this shew imports the Argument of the

Play?

Ham. We shall know by these Fellowes: the Players

cannot 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 not

you asham'd to shew, hee'l not shame to tell you what it

meanes


Ophe. You are naught, you are naught, Ile marke the

Play.

Enter Prologue.


For vs, and for our Tragedie,

Heere stooping to your Clemencie:

We begge your hearing Patienthe


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 hands

Vnite comutuall, in most sacred Bands


Bap. So many iournies may the Sunne and Moone

Make 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 forget

To 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 strange

That 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 beguile

The 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 Offence

in't?

Ham. No, no, they do but iest, poyson in iest, no Offence

i'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 of

my Fortunes turne Turke with me; with two Prouinciall

Roses on my rac'd Shooes, get me a Fellowship in a crie

of 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 for

a 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 stroke

her into amazement, and admiration


Ham. Oh wonderfull Sonne, that can so astonish a

Mother. But is there no sequell at the heeles of this Mothers

admiration?

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 of

the King himselfe, for your Succession in Denmarke?

Ham. I, but while the grasse growes, the Prouerbe is

something 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 play

vpon 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 shape

like 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 out

Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood,

And do such bitter businesse as the day

Would quake to looke on. Soft now, to my Mother:

Oh Heart, loose not thy Nature; let not euer

The 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 endure

Hazard so dangerous as doth hourely grow

Out of his Lunacies


Guild. We will our selues prouide:

Most holie and Religious feare it is

To keepe those many many bodies safe

That liue and feede vpon your Maiestie


Rosin. The single

And peculiar life is bound

With all the strength and Armour of the minde,

To keepe it selfe from noyance: but much more,

That Spirit, vpon whose spirit depends and rests

The liues of many, the cease of Maiestie

Dies not alone; but like a Gulfe doth draw

What's neere it, with it. It is a massie wheele

Fixt on the Somnet of the highest Mount.

To whose huge Spoakes, ten thousand lesser things

Are mortiz'd and adioyn'd: which when it falles,

Each small annexment, pettie consequence

Attends the boystrous Ruine. Neuer alone

Did 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 selfe

To 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-heare

The 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 hand

Were thicker then it selfe with Brothers blood,

Is there not Raine enough in the sweet Heauens

To 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 Prayer

Can serue my turne? Forgiue me my foule Murther:

That cannot be, since I am still possest

Of 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 selfe

Buyes out the Law; but 'tis not so aboue,

There is no shuffling, there the Action lyes

In his true Nature, and we our selues compell'd

Euen 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 that

I his foule Sonne, do this same Villaine send

To 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 hent

When he is drunke asleepe: or in his Rage,

Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed,

At gaming, swearing, or about some acte

That 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 blacke

As 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 betweene

Much 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 not

boudge:

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 shall

If 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 Act

That blurres the grace and blush of Modestie,

Cals Vertue Hypocrite, takes off the Rose

From the faire forehead of an innocent loue,

And makes a blister there. Makes marriage vowes

As false as Dicers Oathes. Oh such a deed,

As from the body of Contraction pluckes

The very soule, and sweete Religion makes

A 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, & thunders

in 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 command

A Station, like the Herald Mercurie

New 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 eare

Blasting 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 Iudgement

Would 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 liue

In the ranke sweat of an enseamed bed,

Stew'd in Corruption; honying and making loue

Ouer 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 tythe

Of 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 wings

You 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 by

Th' important acting of your dread command? Oh say


Ghost. Do not forget: this Visitation

Is 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 distemper

Sprinkle 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 conuert

My 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 madnesse

That I haue vttered; bring me to the Test

And I the matter will re-word: which madnesse

Would 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 easinesse

To 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 well

The 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 Ape

To try Conclusions in the Basket, creepe

And 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 breath

What 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 Counsellor

Is 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 heaues

You 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 contend

Which is the Mightier, in his lawlesse fit

Behinde the Arras, hearing something stirre,

He whips his Rapier out, and cries a Rat, a Rat,

And in his brainish apprehension killes

The 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 prouidence

Should 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 feede

Euen 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 Oare

Among a Minerall of Mettels base

Shewes 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 Skill

Both 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 body

Into 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 mine

owne. Besides, to be demanded of a Spundge, what replication

should 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 a

foolish 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 not

with the body. The King, is a thing Guild. A thing my Lord?

Ham. Of nothing: bring me to him, hide Fox, and all

after.


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'd

But neerer the offence: to beare all smooth, and euen,

This sodaine sending him away, must seeme

Deliberate 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 your

pleasure


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 go

a 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 safety

Which we do tender, as we deerely greeue

For that which thou hast done, must send thee hence

With fierie Quicknesse. Therefore prepare thy selfe,

The Barke is readie, and the winde at helpe,

Th' Associates tend, and euery thing at bent

For 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, for

England. 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 done

That 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 red

After the Danish Sword, and thy free awe

Payes homage to vs; thou maist not coldly set

Our Soueraigne Processe, which imports at full

By Letters coniuring to that effect

The 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, Fortinbras

Claimes the conueyance of a promis'd March

Ouer 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


Hor. She is importunate, indeed distract, her moode

will needs be pittied


Qu. What would she haue?

Hor. She speakes much of her Father; saies she heares

There's trickes i'th' world, and hems, and beats her heart,

Spurnes enuiously at Strawes, speakes things in doubt,

That carry but halfe sense: Her speech is nothing,

Yet the vnshaped vse of it doth moue

The hearers to Collection; they ayme at it,

And botch the words vp fit to their owne thoughts,

Which as her winkes, and nods, and gestures yeeld them,

Indeed would make one thinke there would be thought,

Though nothing sure, yet much vnhappily


Qu. 'Twere good she were spoken with,

For she may strew dangerous coniectures

In ill breeding minds. Let her come in.

To my sicke soule (as sinnes true Nature is)

Each toy seemes Prologue, to some great amisse,

So full of Artlesse iealousie is guilt,

It spill's it selfe, in fearing to be spilt.

Enter Ophelia distracted.


Ophe. Where is the beauteous Maiesty of Denmark


Qu. How now Ophelia?

Ophe. How should I your true loue know from another one?

By his Cockle hat and staffe, and his Sandal shoone


Qu. Alas sweet Lady: what imports this Song?

Ophe. Say you? Nay pray you marke.

He is dead and gone Lady, he is dead and gone,

At his head a grasse-greene Turfe, at his heeles a stone.

Enter King.


Qu. Nay but Ophelia


Ophe. Pray you marke.

White his Shrow'd as the Mountaine Snow


Qu. Alas, looke heere my Lord


Ophe. Larded with sweet Flowers:

Which bewept to the graue did not go,

With true-loue showres


King. How do ye, pretty Lady?

Ophe. Well, God dil'd you. They say the Owle was

a Bakers daughter. Lord, wee know what we are, but

know not what we may be. God be at your Table


King. Conceit vpon her Father


Ophe. Pray you let's haue no words of this: but when

they aske you what it meanes, say you this:

To morrow is S[aint]. Valentines day, all in the morning betime,

And I a Maid at your Window, to be your Valentine.

Then vp he rose, & don'd his clothes, & dupt the chamber dore,

Let in the Maid, that out a Maid, neuer departed more


King. Pretty Ophelia


Ophe. Indeed la? without an oath Ile make an end ont.

By gis, and by S[aint]. Charity,

Alacke, and fie for shame:

Yong men wil doo't, if they come too't,

By Cocke they are too blame.

Quoth she before you tumbled me,

You promis'd me to Wed:

So would I ha done by yonder Sunne,

And thou hadst not come to my bed


King. How long hath she bin thus?

Ophe. I hope all will be well. We must bee patient,

but I cannot choose but weepe, to thinke they should

lay him i'th' cold ground: My brother shall knowe of it,

and so I thanke you for your good counsell. Come, my

Coach: Goodnight Ladies: Goodnight sweet Ladies:

Goodnight, goodnight.

Enter.


King. Follow her close,

Giue her good watch I pray you:

Oh this is the poyson of deepe greefe, it springs

All from her Fathers death. Oh Gertrude, Gertrude,

When sorrowes comes, they come not single spies,

But in Battalians. First, her Father slaine,

Next your Sonne gone, and he most violent Author

Of his owne iust remoue: the people muddied,

Thicke and vnwholsome in their thoughts, and whispers

For good Polonius death; and we haue done but greenly

In hugger mugger to interre him. Poore Ophelia

Diuided from her selfe, and her faire Iudgement,

Without the which we are Pictures, or meere Beasts.

Last, and as much containing as all these,

Her Brother is in secret come from France,

Keepes on his wonder, keepes himselfe in clouds,

And wants not Buzzers to infect his eare

With pestilent Speeches of his Fathers death,

Where in necessitie of matter Beggard,

Will nothing sticke our persons to Arraigne

In eare and eare. O my deere Gertrude, this,

Like to a murdering Peece in many places,

Giues me superfluous death.


A Noise within.


Enter a Messenger.


Qu. Alacke, what noyse is this?

King. Where are my Switzers?

Let them guard the doore. What is the matter?

Mes. Saue your selfe, my Lord.

The Ocean (ouer-peering of his List)

Eates not the Flats with more impittious haste

Then young Laertes, in a Riotous head,

Ore-beares your Officers, the rabble call him Lord,

And as the world were now but to begin,

Antiquity forgot, Custome not knowne,

The Ratifiers and props of euery word,

They cry choose we? Laertes shall be King,

Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds,

Laertes shall be King, Laertes King


Qu. How cheerefully on the false Traile they cry,

Oh this is Counter you false Danish Dogges.


Noise within. Enter Laertes.


King. The doores are broke


Laer. Where is the King, sirs? Stand you all without


All. No, let's come in


Laer. I pray you giue me leaue


Al. We will, we will


Laer. I thanke you: Keepe the doore.

Oh thou vilde King, giue me my Father


Qu. Calmely good Laertes


Laer. That drop of blood, that calmes

Proclaimes me Bastard:

Cries Cuckold to my Father, brands the Harlot

Euen heere betweene the chaste vnsmirched brow

Of my true Mother


King. What is the cause Laertes,

That thy Rebellion lookes so Gyant-like?

Let him go Gertrude: Do not feare our person:

There's such Diuinity doth hedge a King,

That Treason can but peepe to what it would,

Acts little of his will. Tell me Laertes,

Why thou art thus Incenst? Let him go Gertrude.

Speake man


Laer. Where's my Father?

King. Dead


Qu. But not by him


King. Let him demand his fill


Laer. How came he dead? Ile not be Iuggel'd with.

To hell Allegeance: Vowes, to the blackest diuell.

Conscience and Grace, to the profoundest Pit.

I dare Damnation: to this point I stand,

That both the worlds I giue to negligence,

Let come what comes: onely Ile be reueng'd

Most throughly for my Father


King. Who shall stay you?

Laer. My Will, not all the world,

And for my meanes, Ile husband them so well,

They shall go farre with little


King. Good Laertes:

If you desire to know the certaintie

Of your deere Fathers death, if writ in your reuenge,

That Soop-stake you will draw both Friend and Foe,

Winner and Looser


Laer. None but his Enemies


King. Will you know them then


La. To his good Friends, thus wide Ile ope my Armes:

And like the kinde Life-rend'ring Politician,

Repast them with my blood


King. Why now you speake

Like a good Childe, and a true Gentleman.

That I am guiltlesse of your Fathers death,

And am most sensible in greefe for it,

It shall as leuell to your Iudgement pierce

As day do's to your eye.


A noise within. Let her come in.


Enter Ophelia.


Laer. How now? what noise is that?

Oh heate drie vp my Braines, teares seuen times salt,

Burne out the Sence and Vertue of mine eye.

By Heauen, thy madnesse shall be payed by waight,

Till our Scale turnes the beame. Oh Rose of May,

Deere Maid, kinde Sister, sweet Ophelia:

Oh Heauens, is't possible, a yong Maids wits,

Should be as mortall as an old mans life?

Nature is fine in Loue, and where 'tis fine,

It sends some precious instance of it selfe

After the thing it loues


Ophe. They bore him bare fac'd on the Beer,

Hey non nony, nony, hey nony:

And on his graue raines many a teare,

Fare you well my Doue


Laer. Had'st thou thy wits, and did'st perswade Reuenge,

it could not moue thus


Ophe. You must sing downe a-downe, and you call

him a-downe-a. Oh, how the wheele becomes it? It is

the false Steward that stole his masters daughter


Laer. This nothings more then matter


Ophe. There's Rosemary, that's for Remembraunce.

Pray loue remember: and there is Paconcies, that's for

Thoughts


Laer. A document in madnesse, thoughts & remembrance

fitted


Ophe. There's Fennell for you, and Columbines: ther's

Rew for you, and heere's some for me. Wee may call it

Herbe-Grace a Sundaies: Oh you must weare your Rew

with a difference. There's a Daysie, I would giue you

some Violets, but they wither'd all when my Father dyed:

They say, he made a good end;

For bonny sweet Robin is all my ioy


Laer. Thought, and Affliction, Passion, Hell it selfe:

She turnes to Fauour, and to prettinesse


Ophe. And will he not come againe,

And will he not come againe:

No, no, he is dead, go to thy Death-bed,

He neuer wil come againe.

His Beard as white as Snow,

All Flaxen was his Pole:

He is gone, he is gone, and we cast away mone,

Gramercy on his Soule.

And of all Christian Soules, I pray God.

God buy ye.


Exeunt. Ophelia


Laer. Do you see this, you Gods?

King. Laertes, I must common with your greefe,

Or you deny me right: go but apart,

Make choice of whom your wisest Friends you will,

And they shall heare and iudge 'twixt you and me;

If by direct or by Colaterall hand

They finde vs touch'd, we will our Kingdome giue,

Our Crowne, our Life, and all that we call Ours

To you in satisfaction. But if not,

Be you content to lend your patience to vs,

And we shall ioyntly labour with your soule

To giue it due content


Laer. Let this be so:

His meanes of death, his obscure buriall;

No Trophee, Sword, nor Hatchment o're his bones,

No Noble rite, nor formall ostentation,

Cry to be heard, as 'twere from Heauen to Earth,

That I must call in question


King. So you shall:

And where th' offence is, let the great Axe fall.

I pray you go with me.


Exeunt.


Enter Horatio, with an Attendant.


Hora. What are they that would speake with me?

Ser. Saylors sir, they say they haue Letters for you


Hor. Let them come in,

I do not know from what part of the world

I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet.

Enter Saylor.


Say. God blesse you Sir


Hor. Let him blesse thee too


Say. Hee shall Sir, and't please him. There's a Letter

for you Sir: It comes from th' Ambassadours that was

bound for England, if your name be Horatio, as I am let

to know it is.


Reads the Letter.


Horatio, When thou shalt haue ouerlook'd this, giue these

Fellowes some meanes to the King: They haue Letters

for him. Ere we were two dayes old at Sea, a Pyrate of very

Warlicke appointment gaue vs Chace. Finding our selues too

slow of Saile, we put on a compelled Valour. In the Grapple, I

boorded them: On the instant they got cleare of our Shippe, so

I alone became their Prisoner. They haue dealt with mee, like

Theeues of Mercy, but they knew what they did. I am to doe

a good turne for them. Let the King haue the Letters I haue

sent, and repaire thou to me with as much hast as thou wouldest

flye death. I haue words to speake in your eare, will make thee

dumbe, yet are they much too light for the bore of the Matter.

These good Fellowes will bring thee where I am. Rosincrance

and Guildensterne, hold their course for England. Of them

I haue much to tell thee, Farewell.

He that thou knowest thine,

Hamlet.

Come, I will giue you way for these your Letters,

And do't the speedier, that you may direct me

To him from whom you brought them.

Enter.


Enter King and Laertes.


King. Now must your conscience my acquittance seal,

And you must put me in your heart for Friend,

Sith you haue heard, and with a knowing eare,

That he which hath your Noble Father slaine,

Pursued my life


Laer. It well appeares. But tell me,

Why you proceeded not against these feates,

So crimefull, and so Capitall in Nature,

As by your Safety, Wisedome, all things else,

You mainly were stirr'd vp?

King. O for two speciall Reasons,

Which may to you (perhaps) seeme much vnsinnowed,

And yet to me they are strong. The Queen his Mother,

Liues almost by his lookes: and for my selfe,

My Vertue or my Plague, be it either which,

She's so coniunctiue to my life, and soule;

That as the Starre moues not but in his Sphere,

I could not but by her. The other Motiue,

Why to a publike count I might not go,

Is the great loue the generall gender beare him,

Who dipping all his Faults in their affection,

Would like the Spring that turneth Wood to Stone,

Conuert his Gyues to Graces. So that my Arrowes

Too slightly timbred for so loud a Winde,

Would haue reuerted to my Bow againe,

And not where I had arm'd them


Laer. And so haue I a Noble Father lost,

A Sister driuen into desperate tearmes,

Who was (if praises may go backe againe)

Stood Challenger on mount of all the Age

For her perfections. But my reuenge will come


King. Breake not your sleepes for that,

You must not thinke

That we are made of stuffe, so flat, and dull,

That we can let our Beard be shooke with danger,

And thinke it pastime. You shortly shall heare more,

I lou'd your Father, and we loue our Selfe,

And that I hope will teach you to imagine Enter a Messenger.


How now? What Newes?

Mes. Letters my Lord from Hamlet, This to your

Maiesty: this to the Queene


King. From Hamlet? Who brought them?

Mes. Saylors my Lord they say, I saw them not:

They were giuen me by Claudio, he receiu'd them


King. Laertes you shall heare them:

Leaue vs.


Exit Messenger


High and Mighty, you shall know I am set naked on your

Kingdome. To morrow shall I begge leaue to see your Kingly

Eyes. When I shall (first asking your Pardon thereunto) recount

th' Occasions of my sodaine, and more strange returne.

Hamlet.

What should this meane? Are all the rest come backe?

Or is it some abuse? Or no such thing?

Laer. Know you the hand?

Kin. 'Tis Hamlets Character, naked and in a Postscript

here he sayes alone: Can you aduise me?

Laer. I'm lost in it my Lord; but let him come,

It warmes the very sicknesse in my heart,

That I shall liue and tell him to his teeth;

Thus diddest thou


Kin. If it be so Laertes, as how should it be so:

How otherwise will you be rul'd by me?

Laer. If so you'l not o'rerule me to a peace


Kin. To thine owne peace: if he be now return'd,

As checking at his Voyage, and that he meanes

No more to vndertake it; I will worke him

To an exployt now ripe in my Deuice,

Vnder the which he shall not choose but fall;

And for his death no winde of blame shall breath,

But euen his Mother shall vncharge the practice,

And call it accident: Some two Monthes hence

Here was a Gentleman of Normandy,

I'ue seene my selfe, and seru'd against the French,

And they ran well on Horsebacke; but this Gallant

Had witchcraft in't; he grew into his Seat,

And to such wondrous doing brought his Horse,

As had he beene encorps't and demy-Natur'd

With the braue Beast, so farre he past my thought,

That I in forgery of shapes and trickes,

Come short of what he did


Laer. A Norman was't?

Kin. A Norman


Laer. Vpon my life Lamound


Kin. The very same


Laer. I know him well, he is the Brooch indeed,

And Iemme of all our Nation


Kin. Hee mad confession of you,

And gaue you such a Masterly report,

For Art and exercise in your defence;

And for your Rapier most especiall,

That he cryed out, t'would be a sight indeed,

If one could match you Sir. This report of his

Did Hamlet so envenom with his Enuy,

That he could nothing doe but wish and begge,

Your sodaine comming ore to play with him;

Now out of this


Laer. Why out of this, my Lord?

Kin. Laertes was your Father deare to you?

Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,

A face without a heart?

Laer. Why aske you this?

Kin. Not that I thinke you did not loue your Father,

But that I know Loue is begun by Time:

And that I see in passages of proofe,

Time qualifies the sparke and fire of it:

Hamlet comes backe: what would you vndertake,

To show your selfe your Fathers sonne indeed,

More then in words?

Laer. To cut his throat i'th' Church


Kin. No place indeed should murder Sancturize;

Reuenge should haue no bounds: but good Laertes

Will you doe this, keepe close within your Chamber,

Hamlet return'd, shall know you are come home:

Wee'l put on those shall praise your excellence,

And set a double varnish on the fame

The Frenchman gaue you, bring you in fine together,

And wager on your heads, he being remisse,

Most generous, and free from all contriuing,

Will not peruse the Foiles? So that with ease,

Or with a little shuffling, you may choose

A Sword vnbaited, and in a passe of practice,

Requit him for your Father


Laer. I will doo't.

And for that purpose Ile annoint my Sword:

I bought an Vnction of a Mountebanke

So mortall, I but dipt a knife in it,

Where it drawes blood, no Cataplasme so rare,

Collected from all Simples that haue Vertue

Vnder the Moone, can saue the thing from death,

That is but scratcht withall: Ile touch my point,

With this contagion, that if I gall him slightly,

It may be death


Kin. Let's further thinke of this,

Weigh what conuenience both of time and meanes

May fit vs to our shape, if this should faile;

And that our drift looke through our bad performance,

'Twere better not assaid; therefore this Proiect

Should haue a backe or second, that might hold,

If this should blast in proofe: Soft, let me see

Wee'l make a solemne wager on your commings,

I ha't: when in your motion you are hot and dry,

As make your bowts more violent to the end,

And that he cals for drinke; Ile haue prepar'd him

A Challice for the nonce; whereon but sipping,

If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,

Our purpose may hold there; how sweet Queene.

Enter Queene.


Queen. One woe doth tread vpon anothers heele,

So fast they'l follow: your Sister's drown'd Laertes


Laer. Drown'd! O where?

Queen. There is a Willow growes aslant a Brooke,

That shewes his hore leaues in the glassie streame:

There with fantasticke Garlands did she come,

Of Crow-flowers, Nettles, Daysies, and long Purples,

That liberall Shepheards giue a grosser name;

But our cold Maids doe Dead Mens Fingers call them:

There on the pendant boughes, her Coronet weeds

Clambring to hang; an enuious sliuer broke,

When downe the weedy Trophies, and her selfe,

Fell in the weeping Brooke, her cloathes spred wide,

And Mermaid-like, a while they bore her vp,

Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes,

As one incapable of her owne distresse,

Or like a creature Natiue, and indued

Vnto that Element: but long it could not be,

Till that her garments, heauy with her drinke,

Pul'd the poore wretch from her melodious buy,

To muddy death


Laer. Alas then, is she drown'd?

Queen. Drown'd, drown'd


Laer. Too much of water hast thou poore Ophelia,

And therefore I forbid my teares: but yet

It is our tricke, Nature her custome holds,

Let shame say what it will; when these are gone

The woman will be out: Adue my Lord,

I haue a speech of fire, that faine would blaze,

But that this folly doubts it.

Enter.


Kin. Let's follow, Gertrude:

How much I had to doe to calme his rage?

Now feare I this will giue it start againe;

Therefore let's follow.


Exeunt.


Enter two Clownes.


Clown. Is she to bee buried in Christian buriall, that

wilfully seekes her owne saluation?

Other. I tell thee she is, and therefore make her Graue

straight, the Crowner hath sate on her, and finds it Christian

buriall


Clo. How can that be, vnlesse she drowned her selfe in

her owne defence?

Other. Why 'tis found so


Clo. It must be Se offendendo, it cannot bee else: for

heere lies the point; If I drowne my selfe wittingly, it argues

an Act: and an Act hath three branches. It is an

Act to doe and to performe; argall she drown'd her selfe

wittingly


Other. Nay but heare you Goodman Deluer


Clown. Giue me leaue; heere lies the water; good:

heere stands the man; good: If the man goe to this water

and drowne himselfe; it is will he nill he, he goes;

marke you that? But if the water come to him & drowne

him; hee drownes not himselfe. Argall, hee that is not

guilty of his owne death, shortens not his owne life


Other. But is this law?

Clo. I marry is't, Crowners Quest Law


Other. Will you ha the truth on't: if this had not

beene a Gentlewoman, shee should haue beene buried

out of Christian Buriall


Clo. Why there thou say'st. And the more pitty that

great folke should haue countenance in this world to

drowne or hang themselues, more then their euen Christian.

Come, my Spade; there is no ancient Gentlemen,

but Gardiners, Ditchers and Graue-makers; they hold vp

Adams Profession


Other. Was he a Gentleman?

Clo. He was the first that euer bore Armes


Other. Why he had none


Clo. What, ar't a Heathen? how doth thou vnderstand

the Scripture? the Scripture sayes Adam dig'd;

could hee digge without Armes? Ile put another question

to thee; if thou answerest me not to the purpose, confesse

thy selfe Other. Go too


Clo. What is he that builds stronger then either the

Mason, the Shipwright, or the Carpenter?

Other. The Gallowes maker; for that Frame outliues a

thousand Tenants


Clo. I like thy wit well in good faith, the Gallowes

does well; but how does it well? it does well to those

that doe ill: now, thou dost ill to say the Gallowes is

built stronger then the Church: Argall, the Gallowes

may doe well to thee. Too't againe, Come


Other. Who builds stronger then a Mason, a Shipwright,

or a Carpenter?

Clo. I, tell me that, and vnyoake


Other. Marry, now I can tell


Clo. Too't


Other. Masse, I cannot tell.

Enter Hamlet and Horatio a farre off.


Clo. Cudgell thy braines no more about it; for your

dull Asse will not mend his pace with beating; and when

you are ask't this question next, say a Graue-maker: the

Houses that he makes, lasts till Doomesday: go, get thee

to Yaughan, fetch me a stoupe of Liquor.


Sings.


In youth when I did loue, did loue,

me thought it was very sweete:

To contract O the time for a my behoue,

O me thought there was nothing meete


Ham. Ha's this fellow no feeling of his businesse, that

he sings at Graue-making?

Hor. Custome hath made it in him a property of easinesse


Ham. 'Tis ee'n so; the hand of little Imployment hath

the daintier sense


Clowne sings. But Age with his stealing steps

hath caught me in his clutch:

And hath shipped me intill the Land,

as if I had neuer beene such


Ham. That Scull had a tongue in it, and could sing

once: how the knaue iowles it to th' grownd, as if it

were Caines Iaw-bone, that did the first murther: It

might be the Pate of a Polititian which this Asse o're Offices:

one that could circumuent God, might it not?

Hor. 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 prais'd my Lord such

a ones Horse, when he meant to begge it; might it not?

Hor. I, my Lord


Ham. Why ee'n so: and now my Lady Wormes,

Chaplesse, and knockt about the Mazard with a Sextons

Spade; heere's fine Reuolution, if wee had the tricke to

see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but

to play at Loggets with 'em? mine ake to thinke

on't


Clowne sings. A Pickhaxe and a Spade, a Spade,

for and a shrowding-Sheete:

O a Pit of Clay for to be made,

for such a Guest is meete


Ham. There's another: why might not that bee the

Scull of a Lawyer? where be his Quiddits now? his

Quillets? his Cases? his Tenures, and his Tricks? why

doe's he suffer this rude knaue now to knocke him about

the Sconce with a dirty Shouell, 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 Recoueries:

Is this the fine of his Fines, and the recouery of his Recoueries,

to haue his fine Pate full of fine Dirt? will his

Vouchers vouch him no more of his Purchases, and double

ones too, then the length and breadth of a paire of

Indentures? the very Conueyances of his Lands will

hardly lye in this Boxe; and must the Inheritor himselfe

haue no more? ha?

Hor. Not a iot more, my Lord


Ham. Is not Parchment made of Sheep-skinnes?

Hor. I my Lord, and of Calue-skinnes too


Ham. They are Sheepe and Calues that seek out assurance

in that. I will speake to this fellow: whose Graue's

this Sir?

Clo. Mine Sir:

O a Pit of Clay for to be made,

for such a Guest is meete


Ham. I thinke it be thine indeed: for thou liest in't


Clo. You lye out on't Sir, and therefore it is not yours:

for my part, I doe not lye in't; and yet it is mine


Ham. Thou dost lye in't, to be in't and say 'tis thine:

'tis for the dead, not for the quicke, therefore thou

lyest


Clo. 'Tis a quicke lye Sir, 'twill away againe from me

to you


Ham. What man dost thou digge it for?

Clo. For no man Sir


Ham. What woman then?

Clo. For none neither


Ham. Who is to be buried in't?

Clo. One that was a woman Sir; but rest her Soule,

shee's dead


Ham. How absolute the knaue is? wee must speake

by the Carde, or equiuocation will vndoe vs: by the

Lord Horatio, these three yeares I haue taken note of it,

the Age is growne so picked, that the toe of the Pesant

comes so neere the heeles of our Courtier, hee galls his

Kibe. How long hast thou been a Graue-maker?

Clo. Of all the dayes i'th' yeare, I came too't that day

that our last King Hamlet o'recame Fortinbras


Ham. How long is that since?

Clo. Cannot you tell that? euery foole can tell that:

It was the very day, that young Hamlet was borne, hee

that was mad, and sent into England


Ham. I marry, why was he sent into England?

Clo. Why, because he was mad; hee shall recouer his

wits there; or if he do not, it's no great matter there


Ham. Why?

Clo. 'Twill not be seene in him, there the men are as

mad as he


Ham. How came he mad?

Clo. Very strangely they say


Ham. How strangely?

Clo. Faith e'ene with loosing his wits


Ham. Vpon what ground?

Clo. Why heere in Denmarke: I haue bin sixeteene

heere, man and Boy thirty yeares


Ham. How long will a man lie i'th' earth ere he rot?

Clo. Ifaith, if he be not rotten before he die (as we haue

many pocky Coarses now adaies, that will scarce hold

the laying in) he will last you some eight yeare, or nine

yeare. A Tanner will last you nine yeare


Ham. Why he, more then another?

Clo. Why sir, his hide is so tan'd with his Trade, that

he will keepe out water a great while. And your water,

is a sore Decayer of your horson dead body. Heres a Scull

now: this Scul, has laine in the earth three & twenty years


Ham. Whose was it?

Clo. A whoreson mad Fellowes it was;

Whose doe you thinke it was?

Ham. Nay, I know not


Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad Rogue, a pour'd a

Flaggon of Renish on my head once. This same Scull

Sir, this same Scull sir, was Yoricks Scull, the Kings Iester


Ham. This?

Clo. E'ene that


Ham. Let me see. Alas poore Yorick, I knew him Horatio,

a fellow of infinite Iest; of most excellent fancy, he

hath borne me on his backe a thousand times: And how

abhorred my Imagination is, my gorge rises at it. Heere

hung those lipps, that I haue kist I know not how oft.

Where be your Iibes now? Your Gambals? Your

Songs? Your flashes of Merriment that were wont to

set the Table on a Rore? No one now to mock your own

Ieering? Quite chopfalne? Now get you to my Ladies

Chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thicke, to this

fauour she must come. Make her laugh at that: prythee

Horatio tell me one thing


Hor. What's that my Lord?

Ham. Dost thou thinke Alexander lookt o'this fashion

i'th' earth?

Hor. E'ene so


Ham. And smelt so? Puh


Hor. E'ene so, my Lord


Ham. To what base vses we may returne Horatio.

Why may not Imagination trace the Noble dust of Alexander,

till he find it stopping a bunghole


Hor. 'Twere to consider: to curiously to consider so


Ham. No faith, not a iot. But to follow him thether

with modestie enough, & likeliehood to lead it; as thus.

Alexander died: Alexander was buried: Alexander returneth

into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make

Lome, and why of that Lome (whereto he was conuerted)

might they not stopp a Beere-barrell?

Imperiall Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,

Might stop a hole to keepe the winde away.

Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,

Should patch a Wall, t' expell the winters flaw.

But soft, but soft, aside; heere comes the King.

Enter King, Queene, Laertes, and a Coffin, with Lords attendant.


The Queene, the Courtiers. Who is that they follow,

And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken,

The Coarse they follow, did with disperate hand,

Fore do it owne life; 'twas some Estate.

Couch we a while, and mark


Laer. What Cerimony else?

Ham. That is Laertes, a very Noble youth: Marke


Laer. What Cerimony else?

Priest. Her Obsequies haue bin as farre inlarg'd.

As we haue warrantie, her death was doubtfull,

And but that great Command, o're-swaies the order,

She should in ground vnsanctified haue lodg'd,

Till the last Trumpet. For charitable praier,

Shardes, Flints, and Peebles, should be throwne on her:

Yet heere she is allowed her Virgin Rites,

Her Maiden strewments, and the bringing home

Of Bell and Buriall


Laer. Must there no more be done?

Priest. No more be done:

We should prophane the seruice of the dead,

To sing sage Requiem, and such rest to her

As to peace-parted Soules


Laer. Lay her i'th' earth,

And from her faire and vnpolluted flesh,

May Violets spring. I tell thee (churlish Priest)

A Ministring Angell shall my Sister be,

When thou liest howling?

Ham. What, the faire Ophelia?

Queene. Sweets, to the sweet farewell.

I hop'd thou should'st haue bin my Hamlets wife:

I thought thy Bride-bed to haue deckt (sweet Maid)

And not t'haue strew'd thy Graue


Laer. Oh terrible woer,

Fall ten times trebble, on that cursed head

Whose wicked deed, thy most Ingenious sence

Depriu'd thee of. Hold off the earth a while,

Till I haue caught her once more in mine armes:


Leaps in the graue.


Now pile your dust, vpon the quicke, and dead,

Till of this flat a Mountaine you haue made,

To o're top old Pelion, or the skyish head

Of blew Olympus


Ham. What is he, whose griefes

Beares such an Emphasis? whose phrase of Sorrow

Coniure the wandring Starres, and makes them stand

Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,

Hamlet the Dane


Laer. The deuill take thy soule


Ham. Thou prai'st not well,

I prythee take thy fingers from my throat;

Sir though I am not Spleenatiue, and rash,

Yet haue I something in me dangerous,

Which let thy wisenesse feare. Away thy hand


King. Pluck them asunder


Qu. Hamlet, Hamlet


Gen. Good my Lord be quiet


Ham. Why I will fight with him vppon this Theme.

Vntill my eielids will no longer wag


Qu. Oh my Sonne, what Theame?

Ham. I lou'd Ophelia; fortie thousand Brothers

Could not (with all there quantitie of Loue)

Make vp my summe. What wilt thou do for her?

King. Oh he is mad Laertes,

Qu. For loue of God forbeare him


Ham. Come show me what thou'lt doe.

Woo't weepe? Woo't fight? Woo't teare thy selfe?

Woo't drinke vp Esile, eate a Crocodile?

Ile doo't. Dost thou come heere to whine;

To outface me with leaping in her Graue?

Be buried quicke with her, and so will I.

And if thou prate of Mountaines; let them throw

Millions of Akers on vs; till our ground

Sindging his pate against the burning Zone,

Make Ossa like a wart. Nay, and thou'lt mouth,

Ile rant as well as thou


Kin. This is meere Madnesse:

And thus awhile the fit will worke on him:

Anon as patient as the female Doue,

When that her Golden Cuplet are disclos'd;

His silence will sit drooping


Ham. Heare you Sir:

What is the reason that you vse me thus?

I lou'd you euer; but it is no matter:

Let Hercules himselfe doe what he may,

The Cat will Mew, and Dogge will haue his day.

Enter.


Kin. I pray you good Horatio wait vpon him,

Strengthen your patience in our last nights speech,

Wee'l put the matter to the present push:

Good Gertrude set some watch ouer your Sonne,

This Graue shall haue a liuing Monument:

An houre of quiet shortly shall we see;

Till then, in patience our proceeding be.


Exeunt.


Enter Hamlet and Horatio


Ham. So much for this Sir; now let me see the other,

You doe remember all the Circumstance


Hor. Remember it my Lord?

Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kinde of fighting,

That would not let me sleepe; me thought I lay

Worse then the mutines in the Bilboes, rashly,

(And praise be rashnesse for it) let vs know,

Our indiscretion sometimes serues vs well,

When our deare plots do paule, and that should teach vs,

There's a Diuinity that shapes our ends,

Rough-hew them how we will


Hor. That is most certaine


Ham. Vp from my Cabin

My sea-gowne scarft about me in the darke,

Grop'd I to finde out them; had my desire,

Finger'd their Packet, and in fine, withdrew

To mine owne roome againe, making so bold,

(My feares forgetting manners) to vnseale

Their grand Commission, where I found Horatio,

Oh royall knauery: An exact command,

Larded with many seuerall sorts of reason;

Importing Denmarks health, and Englands too,

With hoo, such Bugges and Goblins in my life,

That on the superuize no leasure bated,

No not to stay the grinding of the Axe,

My head should be struck off


Hor. Ist possible?

Ham. Here's the Commission, read it at more leysure:

But wilt thou heare me how I did proceed?

Hor. I beseech you


Ham. Being thus benetted round with Villaines,

Ere I could make a Prologue to my braines,

They had begun the Play. I sate me downe,

Deuis'd a new Commission, wrote it faire,

I once did hold it as our Statists doe,

A basenesse to write faire; and laboured much

How to forget that learning: but Sir now,

It did me Yeomans seriuce: wilt thou know

The effects of what I wrote?

Hor. I, good my Lord


Ham. An earnest Coniuration from the King,

As England was his faithfull Tributary,

As loue betweene them, as the Palme should flourish,

As Peace should still her wheaten Garland weare,

And stand a Comma 'tweene their amities,

And many such like Assis of great charge,

That on the view and know of these Contents,

Without debatement further, more or lesse,

He should the bearers put to sodaine death,

Not shriuing time allowed


Hor. How was this seal'd?

Ham. Why, euen in that was Heauen ordinate;

I had my fathers Signet in my Purse,

Which was the Modell of that Danish Seale:

Folded the Writ vp in forme of the other,

Subscrib'd it, gau't th' impression, plac't it safely,

The changeling neuer knowne: Now, the next day

Was our Sea Fight, and what to this was sement,

Thou know'st already


Hor. So Guildensterne and Rosincrance, go too't


Ham. Why man, they did make loue to this imployment

They are not neere my Conscience; their debate

Doth by their owne insinuation grow:

'Tis dangerous, when the baser nature comes

Betweene the passe, and fell incensed points

Of mighty opposites


Hor. Why, what a King is this?

Ham. Does it not, thinkst thee, stand me now vpon

He that hath kil'd my King, and whor'd my Mother,

Popt in betweene th' election and my hopes,

Throwne out his Angle for my proper life,

And with such coozenage; is't not perfect conscience,

To quit him with this arme? And is't not to be damn'd

To let this Canker of our nature come

In further euill


Hor. It must be shortly knowne to him from England

What is the issue of the businesse there


Ham. It will be short,

The interim's mine, and a mans life's no more

Then to say one: but I am very sorry good Horatio,

That to Laertes I forgot my selfe;

For by the image of my Cause, I see

The Portraiture of his; Ile count his fauours:

But sure the brauery of his griefe did put me

Into a Towring passion


Hor. Peace, who comes heere?

Enter young Osricke.


Osr. Your Lordship is right welcome back to Denmarke


Ham. I humbly thank you Sir, dost know this waterflie?

Hor. No my good Lord


Ham. Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis 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 Kings

Messe; 'tis a Chowgh; but as I saw spacious in the possession

of dirt


Osr. Sweet Lord, if your friendship were at leysure,

I should impart a thing to you from his Maiesty


Ham. I will receiue it with all diligence of spirit; put

your Bonet to his right vse, 'tis for the head


Osr. I thanke your Lordship, 'tis very hot


Ham. No, beleeue mee 'tis very cold, the winde is

Northerly


Osr. It is indifferent cold my Lord indeed


Ham. Mee thinkes it is very soultry, and hot for my

Complexion


Osr. Exceedingly, my Lord, it is very soultry, as 'twere

I cannot tell how: but my Lord, his Maiesty bad me signifie

to you, that he ha's laid a great wager on your head:

Sir, this is the matter


Ham. I beseech you remember


Osr. Nay, in good faith, for mine ease in good faith:

Sir, you are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is at

his weapon


Ham. What's his weapon?

Osr. Rapier and dagger


Ham. That's two of his weapons; but well


Osr. The sir King ha's wag'd with him six Barbary horses,

against the which he impon'd as I take it, sixe French

Rapiers and Poniards, with their assignes, as Girdle,

Hangers or so: three of the Carriages infaith are very

deare to fancy, very responsiue to the hilts, most delicate

carriages, and of very liberall conceit


Ham. What call you the Carriages?

Osr. The Carriages Sir, are the hangers


Ham. The phrase would bee more Germaine to the

matter: If we could carry Cannon by our sides; I would

it might be Hangers till then; but on sixe Barbary Horses

against sixe French Swords: their Assignes, and three

liberall conceited Carriages, that's the French but against

the Danish; why is this impon'd as you call it?

Osr. The King Sir, hath laid that in a dozen passes betweene

you and him, hee shall not exceed you three hits;

He hath one twelue for mine, and that would come to

imediate tryall, if your Lordship would vouchsafe the

Answere


Ham. How if I answere no?

Osr. I meane my Lord, the opposition of your person

in tryall


Ham. Sir, I will walke heere in the Hall; if it please

his Maiestie, 'tis the breathing time of day with me; let

the Foyles bee brought, the Gentleman willing, and the

King hold his purpose; I will win for him if I can: if

not, Ile gaine nothing but my shame, and the odde hits


Osr. Shall I redeliuer you ee'n so?

Ham. To this effect Sir, after what flourish your nature

will


Osr. I commend my duty to your Lordship


Ham. Yours, yours; hee does well to commend it

himselfe, there are no tongues else for's tongue


Hor. This Lapwing runs away with the shell on his

head


Ham. He did Complie with his Dugge before hee

suck't it: thus had he and mine more of the same Beauty

that I know the drossie age dotes on; only got the tune of

the time, and outward habite of encounter, a kinde of

yesty collection, which carries them through & through

the most fond and winnowed opinions; and doe but blow

them to their tryalls: the Bubbles are out


Hor. You will lose this wager, my Lord


Ham. I doe not thinke so, since he went into France,

I haue beene in continuall practice; I shall winne at the

oddes: but thou wouldest not thinke how all heere about

my heart: but it is no matter


Hor. Nay, good my Lord


Ham. It is but foolery; but it is such a kinde of

gain-giuing as would perhaps trouble a woman


Hor. If your minde dislike any thing, obey. I will forestall

their repaire hither, and say you are not fit


Ham. Not a whit, we defie Augury; there's a speciall

Prouidence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not

to come: if it bee not to come, it will bee now: if it

be not now; yet it will come; the readinesse is all, since no

man ha's ought of what he leaues. What is't to leaue betimes?

Enter King, Queene, Laertes and Lords, with other Attendants with

Foyles,

and Gauntlets, a Table and Flagons of Wine on it.


Kin. Come Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me


Ham. Giue me your pardon Sir, I'ue done you wrong,

But pardon't as you are a Gentleman.

This presence knowes,

And you must needs haue heard how I am punisht

With sore distraction? What I haue done

That might your nature honour, and exception

Roughly awake, I heere proclaime was madnesse:

Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Neuer Hamlet.

If Hamlet from himselfe be tane away:

And when he's not himselfe, do's wrong Laertes,

Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it:

Who does it then? His Madnesse? If't be so,

Hamlet is of the Faction that is wrong'd,

His madnesse is poore Hamlets Enemy.

Sir, in this Audience,

Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd euill,

Free me so farre in your most generous thoughts,

That I haue shot mine Arrow o're the house,

And hurt my Mother


Laer. I am satisfied in Nature,

Whose motiue in this case should stirre me most

To my Reuenge. But in my termes of Honor

I stand aloofe, and will no reconcilement,

Till by some elder Masters of knowne Honor,

I haue a voyce, and president of peace

To keepe my name vngorg'd. But till that time,

I do receiue your offer'd loue like loue,

And wil not wrong it


Ham. I do embrace it freely,

And will this Brothers wager frankely play.

Giue vs the Foyles: Come on


Laer. Come one for me


Ham. Ile be your foile Laertes, in mine ignorance,

Your Skill shall like a Starre i'th' darkest night,

Sticke fiery off indeede


Laer. You mocke me Sir


Ham. No by this hand


King. Giue them the Foyles yong Osricke,

Cousen Hamlet, you know the wager


Ham. Verie well my Lord,

Your Grace hath laide the oddes a'th' weaker side


King. I do not feare it,

I haue seene you both:

But since he is better'd, we haue therefore oddes


Laer. This is too heauy,

Let me see another


Ham. This likes me well,

These Foyles haue all a length.


Prepare to play.


Osricke. I my good Lord


King. Set me the Stopes of wine vpon that Table:

If Hamlet giue the first, or second hit,

Or quit in answer of the third exchange,

Let all the Battlements their Ordinance fire,

The King shal drinke to Hamlets better breath,

And in the Cup an vnion shal he throw

Richer then that, which foure successiue Kings

In Denmarkes Crowne haue worne.

Giue me the Cups,

And let the Kettle to the Trumpets speake,

The Trumpet to the Cannoneer without,

The Cannons to the Heauens, the Heauen to Earth,

Now the King drinkes to Hamlet. Come, begin,

And you the Iudges beare a wary eye


Ham. Come on sir


Laer. Come on sir.


They play.


Ham. One


Laer. No


Ham. Iudgement


Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit


Laer. Well: againe


King. Stay, giue me drinke.

Hamlet, this Pearle is thine,

Here's to thy health. Giue him the cup,


Trumpets sound, and shot goes off.


Ham. Ile play this bout first, set by a-while.

Come: Another hit; what say you?

Laer. A touch, a touch, I do confesse


King. Our Sonne shall win


Qu. He's fat, and scant of breath.

Heere's a Napkin, rub thy browes,

The Queene Carowses to thy fortune, Hamlet


Ham. Good Madam


King. Gertrude, do not drinke


Qu. I will my Lord;

I pray you pardon me


King. It is the poyson'd Cup, it is too late


Ham. I dare not drinke yet Madam,

By and by


Qu. Come, let me wipe thy face


Laer. My Lord, Ile hit him now


King. I do not thinke't


Laer. And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience


Ham. Come for the third.

Laertes, you but dally,

I pray you passe with your best violence,

I am affear'd you make a wanton of me


Laer. Say you so? Come on.


Play.


Osr. Nothing neither way


Laer. Haue at you now.


In scuffling they change Rapiers.


King. Part them, they are incens'd


Ham. Nay come, againe


Osr. Looke to the Queene there hoa


Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is't my Lord?

Osr. How is't Laertes?

Laer. Why as a Woodcocke

To mine Sprindge, Osricke,

I am iustly kill'd with mine owne Treacherie


Ham. How does the Queene?

King. She sounds to see them bleede


Qu. No, no, the drinke, the drinke.

Oh my deere Hamlet, the drinke, the drinke,

I am poyson'd


Ham. Oh Villany! How? Let the doore be lock'd.

Treacherie, seeke it out


Laer. It is heere Hamlet.

Hamlet, thou art slaine,

No Medicine in the world can do thee good.

In thee, there is not halfe an houre of life;

The Treacherous Instrument is in thy hand,

Vnbated and envenom'd: the foule practise

Hath turn'd it selfe on me. Loe, heere I lye,

Neuer to rise againe: Thy Mothers poyson'd:

I can no more, the King, the King's too blame


Ham. The point envenom'd too,

Then venome to thy worke.


Hurts the King.


All. Treason, Treason


King. O yet defend me Friends, I am but hurt


Ham. Heere thou incestuous, murdrous,

Damned Dane,

Drinke off this Potion: Is thy Vnion heere?

Follow my Mother.


King Dyes.


Laer. He is iustly seru'd.

It is a poyson temp'red by himselfe:

Exchange forgiuenesse with me, Noble Hamlet;

Mine and my Fathers death come not vpon thee,

Nor thine on me.


Dyes.


Ham. Heauen make thee free of it, I follow thee.

I am dead Horatio, wretched Queene adiew,

You that looke pale, and tremble at this chance,

That are but Mutes or audience to this acte:

Had I but time (as this fell Sergeant death

Is strick'd in his Arrest) oh I could tell you.

But let it be: Horatio, I am dead,

Thou liu'st, report me and my causes right

To the vnsatisfied


Hor. Neuer beleeue it.

I am more an Antike Roman then a Dane:

Heere's yet some Liquor left


Ham. As th'art a man, giue me the Cup.

Let go, by Heauen Ile haue't.

Oh good Horatio, what a wounded name,

(Things standing thus vnknowne) shall liue behind me.

If thou did'st euer hold me in thy heart,

Absent thee from felicitie awhile,

And in this harsh world draw thy breath in paine,

To tell my Storie.


March afarre off, and shout within.


What warlike noyse is this?

Enter Osricke.


Osr. Yong Fortinbras, with conquest come fro[m] Poland

To th' Ambassadors of England giues this warlike volly


Ham. O I dye Horatio:

The potent poyson quite ore-crowes my spirit,

I cannot liue to heare the Newes from England,

But I do prophesie th' election lights

On Fortinbras, he ha's my dying voyce,

So tell him with the occurrents more and lesse,

Which haue solicited. The rest is silence. O, o, o, o.


Dyes


Hora. Now cracke a Noble heart:

Goodnight sweet Prince,

And flights of Angels sing thee to thy rest,

Why do's the Drumme come hither?

Enter Fortinbras and English Ambassador, with Drumme, Colours,

and

Attendants.


Fortin. Where is this sight?

Hor. What is it ye would see;

If ought of woe, or wonder, cease your search


For. His quarry cries on hauocke. Oh proud death,

What feast is toward in thine eternall Cell.

That thou so many Princes, at a shoote,

So bloodily hast strooke


Amb. The sight is dismall,

And our affaires from England come too late,

The eares are senselesse that should giue vs hearing,

To tell him his command'ment is fulfill'd,

That Rosincrance and Guildensterne are dead:

Where should we haue our thankes?

Hor. Not from his mouth,

Had it th' abilitie of life to thanke you:

He neuer gaue command'ment for their death.

But since so iumpe vpon this bloodie question,

You from the Polake warres, and you from England

Are heere arriued. Giue order that these bodies

High on a stage be placed to the view,

And let me speake to th' yet vnknowing world,

How these things came about. So shall you heare

Of carnall, bloudie, and vnnaturall acts,

Of accidentall iudgements, casuall slaughters

Of death's put on by cunning, and forc'd cause,

And in this vpshot, purposes mistooke,

Falne on the Inuentors head. All this can I

Truly deliuer


For. Let vs hast to heare it,

And call the Noblest to the Audience.

For me, with sorrow, I embrace my Fortune,

I haue some Rites of memory in this Kingdome,

Which are to claime, my vantage doth

Inuite me,

Hor. Of that I shall haue alwayes cause to speake,

And from his mouth

Whose voyce will draw on more:

But let this same be presently perform'd,

Euen whiles mens mindes are wilde,

Lest more mischance

On plots, and errors happen


For. Let foure Captaines

Beare Hamlet like a Soldier to the Stage,

For he was likely, had he beene put on

To haue prou'd most royally:

And for his passage,

The Souldiours Musicke, and the rites of Warre

Speake lowdly for him.

Take vp the body; Such a sight as this

Becomes the Field, but heere shewes much amis.

Go, bid the Souldiers shoote.


Exeunt. Marching: after the which, a Peale of Ordenance are shot

off.



FINIS. The tragedie of HAMLET, Prince of Denmarke.