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+\documentclass[11pt]{book}
+\usepackage[pagestyles,outermarks]{titlesec}[2005/01/22 v2.6]
+\usepackage[repeat]{drama}
+\usepackage{poetry}
+\usepackage{example}
+
+\TextHeight {6in}
+\TextWidth {3.75in}
+
+\hfuzz 1pt
+
+%
+% Poor man's italic small caps
+%
+\def \textitsc #1{%
+ \expandafter \textitscbis #1\end
+}
+\def \textitscbis #1#2\end{%
+ {\itshape \RelSize{-2}#1\relax
+ \RelSize{-1}\MakeUppercase{#2}%
+ }%
+}
+
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+
+\newpagestyle {maintext} {
+
+ \newsavebox {\Hamlet}
+ \newsavebox {\PrinceOfDenmark}
+
+ \sbox {\Hamlet}{\RelSize{-2}\LetterSpace{HAMLET}}
+ \sbox {\PrinceOfDenmark} {\RelSize{-2}\LetterSpace{PRINCE OF DENMARK}}
+
+ \sethead [\oldstylenums{\thepage}]
+ [\usebox{\Hamlet}]
+ [\firsttitlemarks\small\OldStyleNums{\sectiontitle}]
+ {\firsttitlemarks\small\OldStyleNums{\sectiontitle}}
+ {\usebox{\PrinceOfDenmark}}
+ {\oldstylenums{\thepage}}
+
+ \Capita {chapter}{section}
+}
+
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+
+\Facies \personae {\textit{#1}{#2}.\hskip .5em plus .3em minus .2em \\
+ \ifthenelse {\isopt [}
+ {#1}
+ {\textitsc{#1}}%
+}
+
+\Forma {\parindent .75em}
+\SpatiumSuper {0ex plus .1\leading}
+
+\Locus \excessus {\textleftmargin + 2em}
+\Modus {\unhyphenated}
+
+\Facies \[ {[\textit{#1}\ifthenelse {\isopt r}{}{]}}
+\Forma {\leftskip 3em\hangafter 1 \hangindent 1em\relax}
+\SpatiumAnte {.33em plus .22em minus .11em}
+\SpatiumPost {.33em plus .22em minus .11em}
+
+\Facies \( {\itshape}
+\Forma {\centeredfinal}
+\SpatiumSuper {.5\leading plus .5\leading minus .125\leading}
+\SpatiumInfra {.5\leading plus .5\leading minus .125\leading}
+
+\Facies \numeri {\RelSize{-1}\oldstylenums{#1}}
+\Locus {\rightmargin + 1em \\ \leftmargin - 1em}
+\Modus {\aligned{left} \\ \aligned{right}}
+\Progressio {{10}\\lf}
+\Caput {\section \headline {\theNact.\theNscene.\thenumerus}}
+
+\Facies \aparte {\textbf{\textup{(}}}
+
+
+\Novus \numerus \Nact
+\Facies {\oldstylenums{#1}}
+
+
+\Novus \numerus \Nscene
+\Facies {\oldstylenums{#1}}
+
+\Novus \textus \actscene
+\Facies {\textup{[\Nact*{+0}. \Nscene*{+0}.] }}
+\Locus {\textleftmargin-.5em}
+\Modus {\aligned{right}}
+
+\Novum \spatium \vacua
+\Facies {.5\leading plus .25\leading minus .125\leading}
+
+
+
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+
+
+\newcommand \Act {\Nact{+1}\Nscene{0}}
+
+\newcommand \Scene [1]{%
+ \Nscene{+1}\numerus{1}%
+ \actscene
+ {\SpatiumSuper \( {2\leading plus 1\leading minus .5\leading \penalty [.2]}
+ \(c) #1\)
+ }
+}
+
+\newenvironment {song}[1][0]
+ {\Versus
+ \Locus \textus {+7em+#1em}
+ \Forma \strophae {01}
+ }
+ {\endVersus}
+
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+
+\begin{document}
+
+\ExampleTitle {William Shakespeare}{\LetterSpace{Hamlet}}
+ {The New Shakespeare\\[.5ex]
+ Cambridge University Press, 1968}
+
+\cleardoublepage
+\spatium {5\leading}
+\titulus {\RelSize{+3}\LetterSpace{HAMLET}}
+\newpage
+\Drama
+\Versus
+
+\newpage
+
+ \titulus {\RelSize{+1}The scene: Denmark}
+ \spatium {.5\leading plus .25\leading}
+ \titulus {CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY}
+ \spatium {.5\leading plus .25\leading}
+
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+
+\begingroup
+
+ \Facies* \textus {\itshape}
+
+ \Facies \personae {\textsc{#1} }
+ \Forma {\hangafter 1 \hangindent 1,5em}
+
+ \newenvironment {unnamed}{\Forma \personae {}}{}
+
+ \Novus \textus \characters
+ \Facies {\Delimiter[.95]\} \itshape#1}
+ \Locus {\area \textrightedge + .15em}
+ \Modus {\aligned {middle} \rangedleft{+0pt}}
+
+ \newenvironment {Characters}[1]{\characters{#1}\Area}{\endArea}
+
+\persona{Claudius}, King of Denmark
+
+\persona{Hamlet}, Prince of Denmark, son to the late, %
+ and nephew to the present king
+
+\persona{Polonius}, Principal Secretary of State
+
+\persona{Horatio}, friend to Hamlet
+
+\persona{Laertes}, son to Polonius
+
+\begin{Characters}{ambassadors to Norway}
+ \persona{Valtemand}
+ \persona{Cornelius}
+\end{Characters}
+
+\begin{Characters}{formerly fellow-students with Hamlet}
+ \persona{Rosencrantz}
+ \persona{Guildenstern}
+\end{Characters}
+
+\persona{Osric}, a fantastic fop
+
+\begin{unnamed}
+ A Gentleman
+ A Doctor of Divinity
+\end{unnamed}
+
+\begin{Characters}{Gentlemen of the Guard}
+\persona{Marcellus}
+\persona{Bernardo}
+\persona{Francisco}
+\end{Characters}
+
+\persona{Reynaldo}, servant to Polonius
+
+\begin{unnamed}
+ Four or five Players
+ Two grave-diggers
+\end{unnamed}
+
+
+\persona{Fortinbras}, Prince of Norway
+
+\begin{unnamed}
+ A Norwegian Captain
+ English Ambassadors
+\end{unnamed}
+
+\vacua
+
+\persona{Gertrude}, queen of Denmark, mother to Hamlet
+
+\persona{Ophelia}, daughter to Polonius
+
+\(c) Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers,\\
+ and other Attendants\)
+
+\persona{\textit{The} Ghost} of Hamlet's father
+
+\endgroup
+
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
+
+\newpage
+
+\pagestyle{maintext}
+
+
+\persona*[1]{Hamlet}
+\persona*[2]{King}
+\persona*[3]{Queen}
+\persona*[4]{Ophelia}
+\persona*[5]{Polonius}
+\persona*[6]{Horatio}
+\persona*[7]{Laertes}
+\persona*[8]{Valtemand}
+\persona*[9]{Cornelius}
+\persona*[10]{Rosencrantz}
+\persona*[11]{Guildenstern}
+\persona*[12]{Osric}
+\persona*[13]{Marcellus}
+\persona*[14]{Barnardo}
+\persona*[15]{Francisco}
+\persona*[16]{Reynaldo}
+\persona*[17]{Fortinbras}
+\persona*[18]{Ghost}
+\persona*[01]{{\RelSize{-3}\textsc{I}} Clown\\First Clown}
+\persona*[02]{\oldstylenums{2} Clown\\Second Clown}
+\persona*[03]{First Player}
+
+
+\titulus {\thispagestyle{empty}\RelSize{2}%
+ THE\\[1ex]
+ TRAGEDY OF HAMLET\\[.8ex]
+ \RelSize{-1}%
+ PRINCE OF DENMARK
+}
+
+\spatium {4ex}
+
+\Act %1
+
+\Scene {Elsinore. A platform before the castle}
+
+ \(\15 at his post. Enter to him \14\)
+
+\14 Who's there?
+
+\15 Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.
+
+\14 Long live the king!
+
+\15 Barnardo?
+
+\14 He.
+
+\15 You come most carefully upon your hour.
+
+\14 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco.
+
+\15 For this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter cold,
+ And I am sick at heart.
+
+\14 Have you had quiet guard? \\
+
+\15 Not a mouse stirring.
+
+\14 Well, good night.
+ If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
+ The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.
+
+\15 I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who's there?
+
+ \(Enter \6 and \13\)
+
+\6 Friends to this ground. \\
+
+\13 And liegemen to the Dane.
+
+\15 Give you good night. \\
+
+\13 O, farewell, honest soldier:
+ Who hath relieved you? \\
+
+\15 Barnardo has my place.
+ Give you good night. \\ \[r]exit\]
+
+\13 Holla! Barnardo! \\
+
+\14 Say,
+ What, is Horatio there? \\
+
+\6 A piece of him.
+
+\14 Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus.
+
+\13 What, has this thing appear'd again to-night?
+
+\14 I have seen nothing.
+
+\13 Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy,
+ And will not let belief take hold of him
+ Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us:
+ Therefore I have entreated him along
+ With us to watch the minutes of this night;
+ That if again this apparition come,
+ He may approve our eyes and speak to it.
+
+\6 Tush, tush, 'twill not appear. \\
+
+\14 Sit down awhile;
+ And let us once again assail your ears,
+ That are so fortified against our story
+ What we have two nights seen. \\
+
+\6 Well, sit we down,
+ And let us hear Barnardo speak of this.
+
+\14 Last night of all,
+ When yond same star that's westward from the pole
+ Had made his course to illume that part of heaven
+ Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,
+ The bell then beating one,---
+
+ \(Enter the \18\)
+
+\13 Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!
+
+\14 In the same figure, like the king that's dead.
+
+\13 Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.
+
+\14 Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio.
+
+\6 Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder.
+
+\14 It would be spoke to. \\
+
+\13 Question it, Horatio.
+
+\6 What art thou that usurp'st this time of night,
+ Together with that fair and warlike form
+ In which the majesty of buried Denmark
+ Did sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, speak!
+
+\13 It is offended. \\
+
+\14 See, it stalks away!
+
+\6 Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak! \[r]exit the \18\]
+\13 'Tis gone, and will not answer.
+
+\14 How now, Horatio! you tremble and look pale:
+ Is not this something more than fantasy?
+ What think you on't?
+
+\6 Before my God, I might not this believe
+ Without the sensible and true avouch
+ Of mine own eyes. \\
+
+\13 Is it not like the king?
+
+\6 As thou art to thyself:
+ Such was the very armour he had on
+ When he the ambitious Norway combated;
+ So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle,
+ He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice.
+ 'Tis strange.
+
+\13 Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour,
+ With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
+
+\6 In what particular thought to work I know not;
+ But in the gross and scope of my opinion,
+ This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
+
+\13 Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows,
+ Why this same strict and most observant watch
+ So nightly toils the subject of the land,
+ And why such daily cast of brazen cannon,
+ And foreign mart for implements of war;
+ Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
+ Does not divide the Sunday from the week;
+ What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
+ Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day:
+ Who is't that can inform me? \\
+
+\6 That can I;
+ At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king,
+ Whose image even but now appear'd to us,
+ Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
+ Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride,
+ Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet---
+ For so this side of our known world esteem'd him---
+ Did slay this Fortinbras; who by a seal'd compact,
+ Well ratified by law and heraldry,
+ Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands
+ Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror:
+ Against the which, a moiety competent
+ Was gaged by our king; which had return'd
+ To the inheritance of Fortinbras,
+ Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same covenant,
+ And carriage of the article design'd,
+ His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras,
+ Of unimproved mettle hot and full,
+ Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there
+ Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes,
+ For food and diet, to some enterprise
+ That hath a stomach in't; which is no other---
+ As it doth well appear unto our state---
+ But to recover of us, by strong hand
+ And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands
+ So by his father lost: and this, I take it,
+ Is the main motive of our preparations,
+ The source of this our watch and the chief head
+ Of this post-haste and romage in the land.
+
+\14 I think it be no other but e'en so:
+ Well may it sort that this portentous figure
+ Comes armed through our watch; so like the king
+ That was and is the question of these wars.
+
+\6 A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
+ In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
+ A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
+ The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead
+ Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets:
+ As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
+ Disasters in the sun; and the moist star
+ Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands
+ Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse:
+ And even the like precurse of fierce events,
+ As harbingers preceding still the fates
+ And prologue to the omen coming on,
+ Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
+ Unto our climatures and countrymen.---
+ But soft, behold! lo, where it comes again!
+
+ \(Re-enter the \18\)
+
+ I'll cross it, though it blast me. Stay, illusion!
+ If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,
+ Speak to me:
+ If there be any good thing to be done,
+ That may to thee do ease and grace to me,
+ Speak to me:
+ If thou art privy to thy country's fate,
+ Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid,
+ O, speak!
+ Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life
+ Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,
+ For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,
+ \[r]a cock crows\]
+ Speak of it: stay, and speak! Stop it, Marcellus.
+
+\13 Shall I strike at it with my partisan?
+
+\6 Do, if it will not stand. \\
+
+\14 'Tis here! \\
+
+\6 'Tis here!
+
+\13 'Tis gone! \[r]exit the \18\]
+ We do it wrong, being so majestical,
+ To offer it the show of violence;
+ For it is, as the air, invulnerable,
+ And our vain blows malicious mockery.
+
+\14 It was about to speak, when the cock crew.
+
+\6 And then it started like a guilty thing
+ Upon a fearful summons. I have heard,
+ The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
+ Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
+ Awake the god of day; and, at his warning,
+ Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
+ The extravagant and erring spirit hies
+ To his confine: and of the truth herein
+ This present object made probation.
+
+\13 It faded on the crowing of the cock.
+ Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
+ Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
+ The bird of dawning singeth all night long:
+ And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;
+ The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
+ No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
+ So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
+
+\6 So have I heard and do in part believe it.
+ But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
+ Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill:
+ Break we our watch up; and by my advice,
+ Let us impart what we have seen to-night
+ Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,
+ This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.
+ Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
+ As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?
+
+\13 Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know
+ Where we shall find him most conveniently. \[r]exeunt\]
+
+\Scene {A room of state in the castle}
+
+ \(c)Enter \2, \3, \1, \5, \\
+ \7, \8, \9, Lords, and Attendants\)
+
+\2 Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death
+ The memory be green, and that it us befitted
+ To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom
+ To be contracted in one brow of woe,
+ Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature
+ That we with wisest sorrow think on him,
+ Together with remembrance of ourselves.
+ Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
+ The imperial jointress to this warlike state,
+ Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,---
+ With an auspicious and a dropping eye,
+ With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage,
+ In equal scale weighing delight and dole,---
+ Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr'd
+ Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
+ With this affair along. For all, our thanks.
+ Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras,
+ Holding a weak supposal of our worth,
+ Or thinking by our late dear brother's death
+ Our state to be disjoint and out of frame,
+ Colleagued with the dream of his advantage,
+ He hath not fail'd to pester us with message,
+ Importing the surrender of those lands
+ Lost by his father, with all bonds of law,
+ To our most valiant brother. So much for him.
+ Now for ourself and for this time of meeting:
+ Thus much the business is: we have here writ
+ To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,---
+ Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears
+ Of this his nephew's purpose,---to suppress
+ His further gait herein; in that the levies,
+ The lists and full proportions, are all made
+ Out of his subject: and we here dispatch
+ You, good Cornelius, and you, Valtemand,
+ For bearers of this greeting to old Norway;
+ Giving to you no further personal power
+ To business with the king, more than the scope
+ Of these delated articles allow.
+ Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty.
+
+
+\persona{Cornelius, Valtemand} In that and all things will we show our duty.
+
+
+\2 We doubt it nothing: heartily farewell. \[r]exeunt \8 and \9\]
+ And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?
+ You told us of some suit; what is't, Laertes?
+ You cannot speak of reason to the Dane,
+ And loose your voice: what wouldst thou beg, Laertes,
+ That shall not be my offer, not thy asking?
+ The head is not more native to the heart,
+ The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
+ Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.
+ What wouldst thou have, Laertes? \\
+
+\7 My dread lord,
+ Your leave and favour to return to France;
+ From whence though willingly I came to Denmark,
+ To show my duty in your coronation,
+ Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,
+ My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France
+ And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
+
+\2 Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius?
+
+\5 He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave
+ By laboursome petition, and at last
+ Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent:
+ I do beseech you, give him leave to go.
+
+\2 Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine,
+ And thy best graces spend it at thy will!
+ But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,---
+
+\aparte\1 A little more than kin, and less than kind.
+
+\2 How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
+
+\1 Not so, my lord; I am too much i' the sun.
+
+\3 Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off,
+ And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
+ Do not for ever with thy vailed lids
+ Seek for thy noble father in the dust:
+ Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die,
+ Passing through nature to eternity.
+
+\1 Ay, madam, it is common. \\
+
+\3 If it be,
+ Why seems it so particular with thee?
+
+\1 Seems, madam! nay it is; I know not `seems.'
+ 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
+ Nor customary suits of solemn black,
+ Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,
+ No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
+ Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage,
+ Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief,
+ That can denote me truly: these indeed seem,
+ For they are actions that a man might play:
+ But I have that within which passeth show;
+ These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
+
+\2 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,
+ To give these mourning duties to your father:
+ But, you must know, your father lost a father;
+ That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound
+ In filial obligation for some term
+ To do obsequious sorrow: but to persever
+ In obstinate condolement is a course
+ Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief;
+ It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,
+ A heart unfortified, a mind impatient,
+ An understanding simple and unschool'd:
+ For what we know must be and is as common
+ As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
+ Why should we in our peevish opposition
+ Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven,
+ A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
+ To reason most absurd: whose common theme
+ Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
+ From the first corse till he that died to-day,
+ `This must be so.' We pray you, throw to earth
+ This unprevailing woe, and think of us
+ As of a father: for let the world take note,
+ You are the most immediate to our throne;
+ And with no less nobility of love
+ Than that which dearest father bears his son,
+ Do I impart toward you. For your intent
+ In going back to school in Wittenberg,
+ It is most retrograde to our desire:
+ And we beseech you, bend you to remain
+ Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
+ Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.
+
+\3 Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet:
+ I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.
+
+\1 I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
+
+\2 Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply:
+ Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come;
+ This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet
+ Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof,
+ No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day,
+ But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell,
+ And the king's rouse the heavens all bruit again,
+ Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away. \[r]exeunt all but \1\]
+\1 O, that this too too solid flesh would melt
+ Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
+ Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
+ His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
+ How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable,
+ Seem to me all the uses of this world!
+ Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
+ That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
+ Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
+ But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two:
+ So excellent a king; that was, to this,
+ Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother
+ That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
+ Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
+ Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,
+ As if increase of appetite had grown
+ By what it fed on: and yet, within a month---
+ Let me not think on't---Frailty, thy name is woman!---
+ A little month, or ere those shoes were old
+ With which she follow'd my poor father's body,
+ Like Niobe, all tears:---why she, even she---
+ O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,
+ Would have mourn'd longer---married with my uncle,
+ My father's brother, but no more like my father
+ Than I to Hercules: within a month:
+ Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
+ Had left the flushing in her galled 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 break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.
+
+ \(Enter \6, \13, and \14\)
+
+\6 Hail to your lordship! \\
+
+\1 I am glad to see you well:
+ Horatio,---or I do forget myself.
+
+\6 The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.
+
+\1 Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you: \[r]they clasp hands\]
+ And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?
+ Marcellus? \[r]he gives his hand\]
+
+\13 My good lord---
+
+\1 I am very glad to see you. Good even, sir. \[r]he bows to \14\]
+ But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?
+
+\6 A truant disposition, good my lord.
+
+\1 I would not hear your enemy say so,
+ Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
+ To make it truster of your own report
+ Against yourself: I know you are no truant.
+ But what is your affair in Elsinore?
+ We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
+
+\6 My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.
+
+\1 I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student;
+ I think it was to see my mother's wedding.
+
+\6 Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.
+
+\1 Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked meats
+ Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
+ Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
+ Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!
+ My father!---methinks I see my father.
+
+\6 Where, my lord? \\
+
+\1 In my mind's eye, Horatio.
+
+\6 I saw him once; he was a goodly king.
+
+\1 He was a man, take him for all in all,
+ I shall not look upon his like again.
+
+\6 My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
+
+\1 Saw? who?
+
+\6 My lord, the king your father. \\
+
+\1 The king my father!
+
+\6 Season your admiration for awhile
+ With an attent ear, till I may deliver,
+ Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
+ This marvel to you. \\
+
+\1 For God's love, let me hear.
+
+\6 Two nights together had these gentlemen,
+ Marcellus and Barnardo, on their watch,
+ In the dead vast and middle of the night,
+ Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,
+ Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe,
+ Appears before them, and with solemn march
+ Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd
+ By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes,
+ Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distilled
+ Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
+ Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me
+ In dreadful secrecy impart they did;
+ And I with them the third night kept the watch;
+ Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,
+ Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
+ The apparition comes: I knew your father;
+ These hands are not more like. \\
+
+\1 But where was this?
+
+\13 My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.
+
+\1 Did you not speak to it? \\
+
+\6 My lord, I did;
+ But answer made it none: yet once methought
+ It lifted up its head and did address
+ Itself to motion, like as it would speak;
+ But even then the morning cock crew loud,
+ And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
+ And vanish'd from our sight. \\
+
+\1 'Tis very strange.
+
+\6 As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true;
+ And we did think it writ down in our duty
+ To let you know of it.
+
+\1 Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.
+ Hold you the watch to-night? \\
+
+
+\persona{All} We do, my lord.
+
+
+\1 Arm'd, say you?
+
+
+\persona{All} Arm'd, my lord.
+
+
+\1 From top to toe? \\
+
+
+\persona{All} My lord, from head to foot.
+
+
+\1 Then saw you not his face?
+
+\6 O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.
+
+\1 What, look'd he frowningly?
+
+\6 A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
+
+\1 Pale or red?
+
+\6 Nay, very pale. \\
+
+\1 And fix'd his eyes upon you?
+
+\6 Most constantly. \\
+
+\1 I would I had been there.
+
+\6 It would have much amazed you.
+
+\1 Very like, very like. Stay'd it long?
+
+\6 While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
+
+
+\personae{Marcellus, Barnardo} Longer, longer.
+
+
+\6 Not when I saw't. \\
+
+\1 His beard was grizzled---no?
+
+\6 It was, as I have seen it in his life,
+ A sable silver'd. \\
+
+\1 I will watch to-night;
+ Perchance 'twill walk again. \\
+
+\6 I warrant it will.
+
+\1 If it assume my noble father's person,
+ I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape
+ And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
+ If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
+ Let it be tenable in your silence still;
+ And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
+ Give it an understanding, but no tongue:
+ I will requite your loves. So, fare you well:
+ Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
+ I'll visit you. \\
+
+\persona{All} Our duty to your honour.
+
+\1 Your loves, as mine to you: farewell. \[r]exeunt all but \1\]
+ My father's spirit in arms! all is not well;
+ I doubt some foul play: would the night were come!
+ Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise,
+ Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. \[r]exit\]
+
+\Scene {A room in Polonius' house}
+
+
+ \(Enter \7 and \4\)
+
+\7 My necessaries are embark'd: farewell:
+ And, sister, as the winds give benefit
+ And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,
+ But let me hear from you. \\
+
+\4 Do you doubt that?
+
+\7 For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour,
+ Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood,
+ A violet in the youth of primy nature,
+ Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
+ The perfume and suppliance of a minute;
+ No more. \\
+
+\4 No more but so? \\
+
+\7 Think it no more;
+ For nature, crescent, does not grow alone
+ In thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes,
+ The inward service of the mind and soul
+ Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,
+ And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch
+ The virtue of his will: but you must fear,
+ His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;
+ For he himself is subject to his birth:
+ He may not, as unvalued persons do,
+ Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
+ The safety and health of this whole state;
+ And therefore must his choice be circumscribed
+ Unto the voice and yielding of that body
+ Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,
+ It fits your wisdom so far to believe it
+ As he in his particular act and place
+ May give his saying deed; which is no further
+ Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
+ Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,
+ If with too credent ear you list his songs,
+ Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open
+ To his unmaster'd importunity.
+ Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,
+ And keep you in the rear of your affection,
+ Out of the shot and danger of desire.
+ The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
+ If she unmask her beauty to the moon:
+ Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes:
+ The canker galls the infants of the spring,
+ Too oft before their buttons be disclosed,
+ And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
+ Contagious blastments are most imminent.
+ Be wary then; best safety lies in fear:
+ Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
+
+\4 I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,
+ As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,
+ Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
+ Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
+ Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
+ Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
+ And recks not his own rede. \\
+
+\7 O, fear me not.
+ I stay too long: but here my father comes.
+
+ \(Enter \5\)
+
+ A double blessing is a double grace,
+ Occasion smiles upon a second leave.
+
+\5 Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame!
+ The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
+ And you are stay'd for. There; my blessing with thee!
+ And these few precepts in thy memory
+ See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
+ Nor any unproportioned thought his act.
+ Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
+ Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
+ Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
+ But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
+ Of each new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade. Beware
+ Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in,
+ Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee.
+ Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice;
+ Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
+ Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
+ But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
+ For the apparel oft proclaims the man,
+ And they in France of the best rank and station
+ Are of a most select and generous chief in that.
+ Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
+ For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
+ And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
+ This above all: to thine ownself be true,
+ And it must follow, as the night the day,
+ Thou canst not then be false to any man.
+ Farewell: my blessing season this in thee!
+
+\7 Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.
+
+\5 The time invites you; go; your servants tend.
+
+\7 Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well
+ What I have said to you. \\
+
+\4 'Tis in my memory lock'd,
+ And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
+
+\7 Farewell. \[r]exit\]
+
+\5 What is't, Ophelia, be hath said to you?
+
+\4 So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.
+
+\5 Marry, well bethought:
+ 'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late
+ Given private time to you; and you yourself
+ Have of your audience been 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 do not understand yourself so clearly
+ As it behoves my daughter and your honour.
+ What is between you? give me up the truth.
+
+\4 He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
+ Of his affection to me.
+
+\5 Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl,
+ Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.
+ Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?
+
+\4 I do not know, my lord, what I should think.
+
+\5 Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby;
+ That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,
+ Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly;
+ Or---not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,
+ Running it thus---you'll tender me a fool.
+
+\4 My lord, he hath importuned me with love
+ In honourable fashion.
+
+\5 Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.
+
+\4 And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,
+ With almost all the holy vows of heaven.
+
+\5 Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know,
+ When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
+ Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter,
+ Giving more light than heat, extinct in both,
+ Even in their promise, as it is a-making,
+ You must not take for fire. From this time
+ Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence;
+ Set your entreatments at a higher rate
+ Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,
+ Believe so much in him, that he is young
+ And with a larger tether may he walk
+ Than may be given you: in few, Ophelia,
+ Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers,
+ Not of that dye which their investments show,
+ But mere implorators of unholy suits,
+ Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds,
+ The better to beguile. This is for all:
+ I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
+ Have you so slander any moment leisure,
+ As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet.
+ Look to't, I charge you: come your ways.
+
+\4 I shall obey, my lord. \[r]exeunt\]
+
+\Scene {The platform}
+
+ \(Enter \1, \6, and \13\)
+
+\1 The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.
+
+\6 It is a nipping and an eager air.
+
+\1 What hour now? \\
+
+\6 I think it lacks of twelve.
+
+\1 No, it is struck.
+
+\6 Indeed? I heard it not: then it draws near the season
+ Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.
+ \[r]a flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot off\]
+ What does this mean, my lord?
+
+\1 The king doth wake to-night and takes his rouse,
+ Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels;
+ And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,
+ The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out
+ The triumph of his pledge. \\
+
+\6 Is it a custom?
+
+\1 Ay, marry, is't:
+ But to my mind, though I am native here
+ And to the manner born, it is a custom
+ More honour'd in the breach than the observance.
+ This heavy-headed revel east and west
+ Makes us traduced and tax'd of other nations:
+ They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase
+ Soil our addition; and indeed it takes
+ From our achievements, though perform'd at height,
+ The pith and marrow of our attribute.
+ So, oft it chances in particular men,
+ That for some vicious mole of nature in them,
+ As, in their birth---wherein they are not guilty,
+ Since nature cannot choose his origin---
+ By the o'ergrowth of some complexion,
+ Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason,
+ Or by some habit that too much o'er-leavens
+ The form of plausive manners, that these men,
+ Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,
+ Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,---
+ Their virtues else---be they as pure as grace,
+ As infinite as man may undergo---
+ Shall in the general censure take corruption
+ From that particular fault: the dram of eale
+ Doth all the noble substance of a doubt
+ To his own scandal. \\
+
+ \(Enter the \18\)
+
+\6 Look, my lord, it comes!
+
+\1 Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
+ Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd,
+ Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
+ Be thy intents wicked or charitable,
+ Thou comest in such a questionable shape
+ That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet,
+ King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me!
+ Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell
+ Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death,
+ Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre,
+ Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd,
+ Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws,
+ To cast thee up again. What may this mean,
+ That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel
+ Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
+ Making night hideous; and we fools of nature
+ So horridly to shake our disposition
+ With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
+ Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?
+ \[r]the \18 beckons\]
+
+\6 It beckons you to go away with it,
+ As if it some impartment did desire
+ To you alone. \\
+
+\13 Look, with what courteous action
+ It waves you to a more removed ground:
+ But do not go with it. \\
+
+\6 No, by no means.
+
+\1 It will not speak; then I will follow it.
+
+\6 Do not, my lord. \\
+
+\1 Why, what should be the fear?
+ I do not set my life in a pin's fee;
+ And for my soul, what can it do to that,
+ Being a thing immortal as itself?
+ It waves me forth again: I'll follow it.
+
+\6 What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord,
+ Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff
+ That beetles o'er his base into the sea,
+ And there assume some other horrible form,
+ Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason
+ And draw you into madness? think of it:
+ The very place puts toys of desperation,
+ Without more motive, into every brain
+ That looks so many fathoms to the sea
+ And hears it roar beneath. \\
+
+\1 It waves me still.
+ Go on; I'll follow thee.
+
+\13 You shall not go, my lord. \\
+
+\1 Hold off your hands.
+
+\6 Be ruled; you shall not go. \\
+
+\1 My fate cries out,
+ And makes each petty artery in this body
+ As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.
+ Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen.
+ By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!
+ I say, away! Go on; I'll follow thee. \[r]exeunt the \18 and \1\]
+
+\6 He waxes desperate with imagination.
+
+\13 Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.
+
+\6 Have after. To what issue will this come?
+
+\13 Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
+
+\6 Heaven will direct it. \\
+
+\13 Nay, let's follow him. \[r]exeunt\]
+
+\Scene {Another part of the platform}
+
+
+ \(Enter the \18 and \1\)
+
+\1 Where wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no further.
+
+\18 Mark me. \\
+
+\1 I will. \\
+
+\18 My hour is almost come,
+ When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames
+ Must render up myself. \\
+
+\1 Alas, poor ghost!
+
+\18 Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
+ To what I shall unfold. \\
+
+\1 Speak; I am bound to hear.
+
+\18 So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.
+
+\1 What?
+
+\18 I am thy father's spirit,
+ Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,
+ And for the day confined to fast in fires,
+ Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
+ Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid
+ To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
+ I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
+ Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
+ Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
+ Thy knotted and combined locks to part
+ And each particular hair to stand on end,
+ Like quills upon the fretful porpentine:
+ But this eternal blazon must not be
+ To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!
+ If thou didst ever thy dear father love---
+
+\1 O God!
+
+\18 Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.
+
+\1 Murder!
+
+\18 Murder most foul, as in the best it is;
+ But this most foul, strange and unnatural.
+
+\1 Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift
+ As meditation or the thoughts of love,
+ May sweep to my revenge. \\
+
+\18 I find thee apt;
+ And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
+ That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,
+ Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:
+ 'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,
+ A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark
+ Is by a forged process of my death
+ Rankly abused: but know, thou noble youth,
+ The serpent that did sting thy father's life
+ Now wears his crown. \\
+
+\1 O my prophetic soul!
+ My uncle!
+
+\18 Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
+ With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,---
+ O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power
+ So to seduce!---won to his shameful lust
+ The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen:
+ O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!
+ From me, whose love was of that dignity
+ That it went hand in hand even with the vow
+ I made to her in marriage, and to decline
+ Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor
+ To those of mine!
+ But virtue, as it never will be moved,
+ Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven,
+ So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,
+ Will sate itself in a celestial bed,
+ And prey on garbage.
+ But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air;
+ Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard,
+ My custom always of the afternoon,
+ Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
+ With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,
+ And in the porches of my ears did pour
+ The leperous distilment; whose effect
+ Holds such an enmity with blood of man
+ That swift as quicksilver it courses through
+ The natural gates and alleys of the body,
+ And with a sudden vigour doth posset
+ And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
+ The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine;
+ And a most instant tetter bark'd about,
+ Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust,
+ All my smooth body.
+ Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand
+ Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd:
+ Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
+ Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd,
+ No reckoning made, but sent to my account
+ With all my imperfections on my head:
+ O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
+ If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;
+ Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
+ A couch for luxury and damned incest.
+ But, howsoever thou pursuest this act,
+ Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
+ Against thy mother aught: leave her to heaven
+ And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
+ To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!
+ The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,
+ And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire:
+ Adieu, adieu! Hamlet, remember me. \[r]exit\]
+
+\1 O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else?
+ And shall I couple hell? O, fie! Hold, hold, my heart;
+ And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
+ But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee!
+ Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
+ In this distracted globe. Remember thee!
+ Yea, from the table of my memory
+ I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
+ All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
+ That youth and observation copied there;
+ And thy commandment all alone shall live
+ Within the book and volume of my brain,
+ Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven!
+ O most pernicious woman!
+ O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
+ My tables,---meet it is I set it down,
+ That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
+ At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark: \[r]Writing\]
+ So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word;
+ It is `Adieu, adieu! remember me.'
+ I have sworn 't.
+
+
+\6 My lord, my lord,--- \\[---]
+
+
+\13 Lord Hamlet,--- \\[---]
+
+\6 Heaven secure him!
+
+\aparte\1 So be it!
+
+\6 Hillo, ho, ho, my lord!
+\1 Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come.
+
+ \(Enter \6 and \13\)
+
+\13 How is't, my noble lord? \\
+
+\6 What news, my lord?
+
+\1 O, wonderful! \\
+
+\6 Good my lord, tell it.
+
+\1 No; you'll reveal it.
+
+\6 Not I, my lord, by heaven. \\
+
+\13 Nor I, my lord.
+
+\1 How say you, then; would heart of man once think it?
+ But you'll be secret? \\
+
+
+\personae{Horatius, Marcellus} Ay, by heaven, my lord.
+
+
+\1 There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark
+ But he's an arrant knave.
+
+\6 There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
+ To tell us this. \\
+
+\1 Why, right; you are i' the right;
+ And so, without more circumstance at all,
+ I hold it fit that we shake hands and part:
+ You, as your business and desire shall point you;
+ For every man has business and desire,
+ Such as it is; and for mine own poor part,
+ Look you, I'll go pray.
+
+\6 These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.
+
+\1 I'm sorry they offend you, heartily;
+ Yes, 'faith heartily. \\
+
+\6 There's no offence, my lord.
+
+\1 Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio,
+ And much offence too. Touching this vision here,
+ It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you:
+ For your desire to know what is between us,
+ O'ermaster 't as you may. And now, good friends,
+ As you are friends, scholars and soldiers,
+ Give me one poor request.
+
+\6 What is't, my lord? we will.
+
+\1 Never make known what you have seen to-night.
+
+
+\personae{Horatius, Marcellus} My lord, we will not.\\[l not.]
+
+\1 Nay, but swear't. \\
+
+\6 In faith,
+ My lord, not I. \\
+
+\13 Nor I, my lord, in faith.
+
+\1 Upon my sword. \\
+
+\13 We have sworn, my lord, already.
+
+\1 Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.
+
+\18 \[beneath\] Swear.
+
+\1 Ah, ha, boy! say'st thou so? art thou there, truepenny?
+ Come on---you hear this fellow in the cellarage---
+ Consent to swear. \\
+
+\6 Propose the oath, my lord.
+
+\1 Never to speak of this that you have seen,
+ Swear by my sword.
+
+\18 \[beneath\] Swear.
+
+\1 Hic et ubique? then we'll shift our ground.
+ Come hither, gentlemen,
+ And lay your hands again upon my sword:
+ Never to speak of this that you have heard,
+ Swear by my sword.
+
+\18 \[beneath\] Swear.
+
+\1 Well said, old mole! canst work i' the earth so fast?
+ A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends.
+
+\6 O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!
+
+\1 And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
+ There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
+ Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
+ But come---
+ Here, as before, never, so help you mercy,
+ How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself,
+ As I perchance hereafter shall think meet
+ To put an antic disposition on,
+ That you, at such times seeing me, never shall,
+ With arms encumber'd thus, or this headshake,
+ Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,
+ As `Well, well, we know,' or `We could, an if we would,'
+ Or `If we list to speak,' or `There be, an if they might,'
+ Or such ambiguous giving out, to note
+ That you know aught of me: this not to do,
+ So grace and mercy at your most need help you, Swear.
+
+\18 \[beneath\] Swear.
+
+\1 Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! \[they swear\] So, gentlemen,
+ With all my love I do commend me to you:
+ And what so poor a man as Hamlet is
+ May do, to express his love and friending to you,
+ God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together;
+ And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.
+ The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,
+ That ever I was born to set it right!
+ Nay, come, let's go together. \[r]exeunt\]
+
+\Act %2
+
+\Scene {A room in \5' house}
+
+ \(Enter \5 and \16\)
+
+\5 Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo.
+
+\16 I will, my lord.
+
+\5 You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynaldo,
+ Before you visit him, to make inquire
+ Of his behavior.\\
+
+\16 My lord, I did intend it.
+
+\5 Marry, well said; very well said. Look you, sir,
+ Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris;
+ And how, and who, what means, and where they keep,
+ What company, at what expense; and finding
+ By this encompassment and drift of question
+ That they do know my son, come you more nearer
+ Than your particular demands will touch it:
+ Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him;
+ As thus, `I know his father and his friends,
+ And in part him: `do you mark this, Reynaldo?
+
+\16 Ay, very well, my lord.
+
+\5 `And in part him; but' you may say 'not well:
+ But, if't be he I mean, he's very wild;
+ Addicted so and so:' and there put on him
+ What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank
+ As may dishonour him; take heed of that;
+ But, sir, such wanton, wild and usual slips
+ As are companions noted and most known
+ To youth and liberty.\\
+
+\16 As gaming, my lord.
+
+\5 Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling,
+ Drabbing: you may go so far.
+
+\16 My lord, that would dishonour him.
+
+\5 'Faith, no; as you may season it in the charge
+ You must not put another scandal on him,
+ That he is open to incontinency;
+ That's not my meaning: but breathe his faults so quaintly
+ That they may seem the taints of liberty,
+ The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind,
+ A savageness in unreclaimed blood,
+ Of general assault.\\
+
+\16 But, my good lord,---
+
+\5 Wherefore should you do this?\\
+
+\16 Ay, my lord,
+ I would know that.\\
+
+\5 Marry, sir, here's my drift;
+ And I believe, it is a fetch of wit:
+ You laying these slight sullies on my son,
+ As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' the working, Mark you,
+ Your party in converse, him you would sound,
+ Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes
+ The youth you breathe of guilty, be assured
+ He closes with you in this consequence;
+ `Good sir,' or so, or `friend,' or `gentleman,'
+ According to the phrase or the addition
+ Of man and country.\\
+
+\16 Very good, my lord.
+
+\5 And then, sir, does he this---he does---what was I about to say?
+ By the mass, I was about to say something:
+ where did I leave?\\
+
+\16 At `closes in the consequence,'
+ at `friend or so,' and `gentleman.'
+
+\5 At `closes in the consequence,' ay, marry;
+ He closes thus: `I know the gentleman;
+ I saw him yesterday, or t' other day,
+ Or then, or then; with such, or such; and, as you say,
+ There was a' gaming; there o'ertook in's rouse;
+ There falling out at tennis:' or perchance,
+ `I saw him enter such a house of sale,'
+ Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth.
+ See you now;
+ Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth:
+ And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,
+ With windlasses and with assays of bias,
+ By indirections find directions out:
+ So by my former lecture and advice,
+ Shall you my son. You have me, have you not?
+
+\16 My lord, I have.\\
+
+\5 God be wi' you; fare you well.
+
+\16 Good my lord!
+
+\5 Observe his inclination in yourself.
+
+\16 I shall, my lord.
+
+\5 And let him ply his music.\\
+
+\16 Well, my lord. \[r]exit\]
+
+\5 Farewell!\\
+
+ \(Enter \4\)
+
+ How now, Ophelia! what's the matter?
+
+\4 O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!
+
+\5 With what, i' the name of God?
+
+\4 My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,
+ Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced;
+ No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd,
+ Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ancle;
+ Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other;
+ And with a look so piteous in purport
+ As if he had been loosed out of hell
+ To speak of horrors,---he comes before me.
+
+\5 Mad for thy love?\\
+
+\4 My lord, I do not know;
+ But truly, I do fear it.\\
+
+\5 What said he?
+
+\4 He took me by the wrist and held me hard;
+ Then goes he to the length of all his arm;
+ And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,
+ He falls to such perusal of my face
+ As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so;
+ At last, a little shaking of mine arm
+ And thrice his head thus waving up and down,
+ He raised a sigh so piteous and profound
+ As it did seem to shatter all his bulk
+ And end his being: that done, he lets me go:
+ And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,
+ He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;
+ For out o' doors he went without their helps,
+ And, to the last, bended their light on me.
+
+\5 Come, go with me: I will go seek the king.
+ This is the very ecstasy of love,
+ Whose violent property fordoes itself
+ And leads the will to desperate undertakings
+ As oft as any passion under heaven
+ That does afflict our natures. I am sorry.
+ What, have you given him any hard words of late?
+
+\4 No, my good lord, but, as you did command,
+ I did repel his fetters and denied
+ His access to me.\\
+
+\5 That hath made him mad.
+ I am sorry that with better heed and judgment
+ I had not quoted him: I fear'd he did but trifle,
+ And meant to wreck thee; but, beshrew my jealousy!
+ By heaven, it is as proper to our age
+ To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions
+ As it is common for the younger sort
+ To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king:
+ This must be known; which, being kept close, might move
+ More grief to hide than hate to utter love.
+ Come \[r]exeunt\]
+
+
+\Scene {A room in the castle}
+
+ \(c)Enter \2, \3, \10, \11,\\ and Attendants\)
+
+\2 Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern!
+ Moreover that we much did long to see you,
+ The need we have to use you did provoke
+ Our hasty sending. Something have you heard
+ Of Hamlet's transformation; so call it,
+ Sith nor the exterior nor the inward man
+ Resembles that it was. What it should be,
+ More than his father's death, that thus hath put him
+ So much from the understanding of himself,
+ I cannot dream of: I entreat you both,
+ That, being of so young days brought up with him,
+ And sith so neighbour'd to his youth and havior,
+ That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court
+ Some little time: so by your companies
+ To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather,
+ So much as from occasion you may glean,
+ Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus,
+ That, open'd, lies within our remedy.
+
+\3 Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you;
+ And sure I am two men there are not living
+ To whom he more adheres. If it will please you
+ To show us so much gentry and good will
+ As to expend your time with us awhile,
+ For the supply and profit of our hope,
+ Your visitation shall receive such thanks
+ As fits a king's remembrance.\\
+
+\10 Both your majesties
+ Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,
+ Put your dread pleasures more into command
+ Than to entreaty.\\
+
+\11 But we both obey,
+ And here give up ourselves, in the full bent
+ To lay our service freely at your feet,
+ To be commanded.
+
+\2 Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.
+
+\3 Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz:
+ And I beseech you instantly to visit
+ My too much changed son. Go, some of you,
+ And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.
+
+\11 Heavens make our presence and our practises
+ Pleasant and helpful to him!\\
+
+\3 Ay, amen! \[r]exeunt \10, \11 and some Attendants\]
+
+ \(Enter \5\)
+
+\5 The ambassadors from Norway, my good lord,
+ Are joyfully return'd.
+
+\2 Thou still hast been the father of good news.
+
+\5 Have I, my lord? I assure my good liege,
+ I hold my duty, as I hold my soul,
+ Both to my God and to my gracious king:
+ And I do think, or else this brain of mine
+ Hunts not the trail of policy so sure
+ As it hath used to do, that I have found
+ The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.
+
+\2 O, speak of that; that do I long to hear.
+
+\5 Give first admittance to the ambassadors;
+ My news shall be the fruit to that great feast.
+
+\2 Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in. \[r]exit \5\]
+ He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found
+ The head and source of all your son's distemper.
+
+\3 I doubt it is no other but the main;
+ His father's death, and our o'erhasty marriage.
+
+\2 Well, we shall sift him.\\
+
+
+ \(Re-enter \5, with \8 and \9\)
+
+ Welcome, my good friends!
+ Say, Valtemand, what from our brother Norway?
+
+\8 Most fair return of greetings and desires.
+ Upon our first, he sent out to suppress
+ His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd
+ To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack;
+ But, better look'd into, he truly found
+ It was against your highness: whereat grieved,
+ That so his sickness, age and impotence
+ Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests
+ On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys;
+ Receives rebuke from Norway, and in fine
+ Makes vow before his uncle never more
+ To give the assay of arms against your majesty.
+ Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,
+ Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee,
+ And his commission to employ those soldiers,
+ So levied as before, against the Polack:
+ With an entreaty, herein further shown,
+ \[r]Giving a paper\]
+ That it might please you to give quiet pass
+ Through your dominions for this enterprise,
+ On such regards of safety and allowance
+ As therein are set down.\\
+
+\2 It likes us well;
+ And at our more consider'd time well read,
+ Answer, and think upon this business.
+ Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour:
+ Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together:
+ Most welcome home!\\ \[r]exeunt \8 and \9\]
+
+\5 This business is well ended.
+ My liege, and madam, to expostulate
+ What majesty should be, what duty is,
+ Why day is day, night night, and time is time,
+ Were nothing but to waste night, day and time.
+ Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
+ And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
+ I will be brief: your noble son is mad:
+ Mad call I it; for, to define true madness,
+ What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
+ But let that go.\\
+
+\3 More matter, with less art.
+
+\5 Madam, I swear I use no art at all.
+ That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity;
+ And pity 'tis 'tis true: a foolish figure;
+ But farewell it, for I will use no art.
+ Mad let us grant him, then: and now remains
+ That we find out the cause of this effect,
+ Or rather say, the cause of this defect,
+ For this effect defective comes by cause:
+ Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.
+ Perpend.
+ I have a daughter---have while she is mine---
+ Who, in her duty and obedience, mark,
+ Hath given me this: now gather, and surmise.
+ \[reads\] `To the celestial and my soul's idol, the most
+ beautified Ophelia,'---
+ That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; `beautified' is
+ a vile phrase: but you shall hear. Thus: \[r]reads\]
+ `In her excellent white bosom, these, \&c.'
+
+\3 Came this from Hamlet to her?
+
+\5 Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful. \[r]reads\]
+\begin{song}[-3]
+ `Doubt thou the stars are fire;
+ Doubt that the sun doth move;
+ Doubt truth to be a liar;
+ But never doubt I love.
+\end{song}
+ O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers;
+ I have not art to reckon my groans: but that
+ I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu.
+\begin{song}[-3]
+ Thine evermore most dear lady, whilst
+ this machine is to him, \textsc{Hamlet}.'
+\end{song}
+ This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me,
+ And more above, hath his solicitings,
+ As they fell out by time, by means and place,
+ All given to mine ear. \\
+
+\2 But how hath she
+ Received his love? \\
+
+\5 What do you think of me?
+
+\2 As of a man faithful and honourable.
+
+\5 I would fain prove so. But what might you think,
+ When I had seen this hot love on the wing---
+ As I perceived it, I must tell you that,
+ Before my daughter told me---what might you,
+ Or my dear majesty your queen here, think,
+ If I had play'd the desk or table-book,
+ Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb,
+ Or look'd upon this love with idle sight;
+ What might you think? No, I went round to work,
+ And my young mistress thus I did bespeak:
+ `Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star;
+ This must not be:' and then I precepts gave her,
+ That she should lock herself from his resort,
+ Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.
+ Which done, she took the fruits of my advice;
+ And he, repulsed---a short tale to make---
+ Fell into a sadness, then into a fast,
+ Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness,
+ Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension,
+ Into the madness wherein now he raves,
+ And all we mourn for. \\
+
+\2 Do you think 'tis this?
+
+\3 It may be, very likely.
+
+\5 Hath there been such a time---I'd fain know that---
+ That I have positively said `Tis so,'
+ When it proved otherwise? \\
+
+\2 Not that I know.
+
+\5 \[Pointing to his head and shoulder\]
+ Take this from this, if this be otherwise:
+ If circumstances lead me, I will find
+ Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
+ Within the centre. \\
+
+\2 How may we try it further?
+
+\5 You know, sometimes he walks four hours together
+ Here in the lobby. \\
+
+\3 So he does indeed.
+
+\5 At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him:
+ Be you and I behind an arras then;
+ Mark the encounter: if he love her not
+ And be not from his reason fall'n thereon,
+ Let me be no assistant for a state,
+ But keep a farm and carters. \\
+
+\2 We will try it.
+
+\3 But, look, where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.
+
+\5 Away, I do beseech you, both away:
+ I'll board him presently. \\ \[r]exeunt \2, \3\]
+
+ \(Enter \1, reading\)
+
+ O, give me leave:
+\Prosa
+ How does my good Lord Hamlet?
+
+\1 Well, God-a-mercy.
+
+\5 Do you know me, my lord?
+
+\1 Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.
+
+\5 Not I, my lord.
+
+\1 Then I would you were so honest a man.
+
+\5 Honest, my lord!
+
+\1 Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be
+ one man picked out of ten thousand.
+
+\5 That's very true, my lord.
+
+\1 For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a
+ god kissing carrion,---Have you a daughter?
+
+\5 I have, my lord.
+
+\1 Let her not walk i' the sun: conception is a
+ blessing: but not as your daughter may conceive.
+ Friend, look to 't.
+
+\aparte\5 How say you by that? Still harping on my
+ daughter: yet he knew me not at first; he said I
+ was a fishmonger: he is far gone, far gone: and
+ truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for
+ love; very near this. I'll speak to him again.
+ What do you read, my lord?
+
+\1 Words, words, words.
+
+\5 What is the matter, my lord?
+
+\1 Between who?
+
+\5 I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.
+
+\1 Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here
+ that old men have grey beards, that their faces are
+ wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber and
+ plum-tree gum and that they have a plentiful lack of
+ wit, together with most weak hams: all which, sir,
+ though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet
+ I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down, for
+ yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if like a crab
+ you could go backward.
+
+\aparte\5 Though this be madness, yet there is method
+ in 't. Will you walk out of the air, my lord?
+
+\1 Into my grave.
+
+\aparte\5 Indeed, that is out o' the air.
+ How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a happiness
+ that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity
+ could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will
+ leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of
+ meeting between him and my daughter.---My honourable
+ lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.
+
+\1 You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will
+ more willingly part withal: except my life, except
+ my life, except my life.
+
+\5 Fare you well, my lord.
+
+\1 These tedious old fools!
+
+ \(Enter \10 and \11\)
+
+\5 You go to seek the Lord Hamlet; there he is.
+
+\10 \[To \5\] God save you, sir! \[r]exit \5\]
+\11 My honoured lord!
+
+\10 My most dear lord!
+
+\1 My excellent good friends! How dost thou,
+ Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both?
+
+\10 As the indifferent children of the earth.
+
+\11 Happy, in that we are not over-happy;
+ On fortune's cap we are not the very button.
+
+\1 Nor the soles of her shoe?
+
+\10 Neither, my lord.
+
+\1 Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of
+ her favours?
+
+\11 'Faith, her privates we.
+
+\1 In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she
+ is a strumpet. What's the news?
+
+\10 None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest.
+
+\1 Then is doomsday near: but your news is not true.
+ Let me question more in particular: what have you,
+ my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune,
+ that she sends you to prison hither?
+
+\11 Prison, my lord!
+
+\1 Denmark's a prison.
+
+\10 Then is the world one.
+
+\1 A goodly one; in which there are many confines,
+ wards and dungeons, Denmark being one o' the worst.
+
+\10 We think not so, my lord.
+
+\1 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.
+
+\10 Why then, your ambition makes it one; 'tis too
+ narrow for your mind.
+
+\1 O God, I could be bounded in a nut shell and count
+ myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I
+ have bad dreams.
+
+\11 Which dreams indeed are ambition, for the very
+ substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.
+
+\1 A dream itself is but a shadow.
+
+\10 Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a
+ quality that it is but a shadow's shadow.
+
+\1 Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and
+ outstretched heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we
+ to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason.
+
+
+\personae{Rosencrantz, Guildenstern} We'll wait upon you.
+
+
+\1 No such matter: I will not sort you with the rest
+ of my servants, for, to speak to you like an honest
+ man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, in the
+ beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore?
+
+\10 To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.
+
+\1 Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I
+ thank you: and sure, dear friends, my thanks are
+ too dear a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it
+ your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come,
+ deal justly with me: come, come; nay, speak.
+
+\11 What should we say, my lord?
+
+\1 Why, any thing, but to the purpose. You were sent
+ for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks
+ which your modesties have not craft enough to colour:
+ I know the good king and queen have sent for you.
+
+\10 To what end, my lord?
+
+\1 That you must teach me. But let me conjure you, by
+ the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of
+ our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved
+ love, and by what more dear a better proposer could
+ charge you withal, be even and direct with me,
+ whether you were sent for, or no?
+
+\aparte\10 What say you?
+
+\aparte\1 Nay, then, I have an eye of you.---If you
+ love me, hold not off.
+
+\11 My lord, we were sent for.
+
+\1 I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation
+ prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king
+ and queen moult no feather. I have of late---but
+ wherefore I know not---lost all my mirth, forgone all
+ custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily
+ with my disposition that this goodly frame, the
+ earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most
+ excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
+ o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted
+ with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to
+ me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
+ What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
+ how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how
+ express and admirable! in action how like an angel!
+ in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the
+ world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me,
+ what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not
+ me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling
+ you seem to say so.
+
+\10 My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.
+
+\1 Why did you laugh then, when I said `man delights not me'?
+
+\10 To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what
+ lenten entertainment the players shall receive from
+ you: we coted them on the way; and hither are they
+ coming, to offer you service.
+
+\1 He that plays the king shall be welcome; his majesty
+ shall have tribute of me; the adventurous knight
+ shall use his foil and target; the lover shall not
+ sigh gratis; the humourous man shall end his part
+ in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose
+ lungs are tickled o' the sere; and the lady shall
+ say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt
+ for't. What players are they?
+
+\10 Even those you were wont to take delight in, the
+ tragedians of the city.
+
+\1 How chances it they travel? their residence, both
+ in reputation and profit, was better both ways.
+
+\10 \DriveOut* I think their inhibition comes by the means
+ of the late innovation.
+
+
+\1 Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was
+ in the city? are they so followed?
+
+
+\10 No, indeed, are they not.
+
+
+\1 How comes it? do they grow rusty?
+
+\10 Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace: but
+ there is, sir, an aery of children, little eyases,
+ that cry out on the top of question, and are most
+ tyrannically clapped for't: these are now the
+ fashion, and so berattle the common stages---so they
+ call them---that many wearing rapiers are afraid of
+ goose-quills and dare scarce come thither.
+
+\1 What, are they children? who maintains 'em? how are
+ they escoted? Will they pursue the quality no
+ longer than they can sing? will they not say
+ afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common
+ players---as it is most like, if their means are no
+ better---their writers do them wrong, to make them
+ exclaim against their own succession?
+
+\10 'Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and
+ the nation holds it no sin to tarre them to
+ controversy: there was, for a while, no money bid
+ for argument, unless the poet and the player went to
+ cuffs in the question.
+
+\1 Is't possible?
+
+\11 O, there has been much throwing about of brains.
+
+\1 Do the boys carry it away?
+
+\10 Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load too.
+
+\1 It is not very strange; for mine uncle is king of
+ Denmark, and those that would make mows at him while
+ my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an
+ hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little.
+ 'Sblood, there is something in this more than
+ natural, if philosophy could find it out.
+
+ \[r]flourish of trumpets within\]
+\11 There are the players.
+
+\1 Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands,
+ come then: the appurtenance of welcome is fashion
+ and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb,
+ lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you,
+ must show fairly outward, should more appear like
+ entertainment than yours. You are welcome: but my
+ uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived.
+
+\11 In what, my dear lord?
+
+\1 I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is
+ southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.
+
+ \(Enter \5\)
+
+\5 Well be with you, gentlemen!
+
+\aparte\1 Hark you, Guildenstern; and you too: at each ear a
+ hearer: that great baby you see there is not yet
+ out of his swaddling-clouts.
+
+\aparte\10 Happily he's the second time come to them; for they
+ say an old man is twice a child.
+
+\aparte\1 I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players;
+ mark it. You say right, sir: o' Monday morning;
+ 'twas so indeed.
+
+\5 My lord, I have news to tell you.
+
+\1 My lord, I have news to tell you.
+ When Roscius was an actor in Rome,---
+
+\5 The actors are come hither, my lord.
+
+\1 Buz, buz!
+
+\5 Upon mine honour,---
+
+\1 `Then came each actor on his ass,'---
+\5 \DriveOut*
+ The best actors in the world, either for tragedy,
+ comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical,
+ historical-pastoral, tragical-historical,
+ tragical-comical-historical-pastoral,
+ scene individable, or
+ poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor
+ Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the
+ liberty, these are the only men.
+
+\1 O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou!
+
+
+\5 What a treasure had he, my lord?
+
+\1 Why,
+\begin{song}[-4]
+ `One fair daughter and no more,
+ The which he loved passing well.'
+\end{song}
+
+\aparte\5 Still on my daughter.
+
+\1 Am I not i' the right, old Jephthah?
+
+\5 If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter
+ that I love passing well.
+
+\1 Nay, that follows not.
+
+\5 What follows, then, my lord?
+
+
+\1 Why,
+\begin{song}[-4]
+ `As by lot, God wot,'
+\end{song}
+ and then, you know,
+\begin{song}[-4]
+ `It came to pass, as most like it was,'---
+\end{song}
+ the first row of the pious chanson will show you
+ more; for look, where my abridgement comes.
+
+ \(Enter four or five Players\)
+
+ You are welcome, masters; welcome, all. I am glad
+ to see thee well. Welcome, good friends. O, my old
+ friend! thy face is valenced since I saw thee last:
+ comest thou to beard me in Denmark? What, my young
+ lady and mistress! By'r lady, your ladyship is
+ nearer to heaven than when I saw you last, by the
+ altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like
+ apiece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the
+ ring. Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en
+ to't like French falconers, fly at any thing we see:
+ we'll have a speech straight: come, give us a taste
+ of your quality; come, a passionate speech.
+
+\03 What speech, my lord?
+
+\1 I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was
+ never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the
+ play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas
+ caviare to the general: but it was---as I received
+ it, and others, whose judgments in such matters
+ cried in the top of mine---an excellent play, well
+ digested in the scenes, set down with as much
+ modesty as cunning. I remember, one said there
+ were no sallets in the lines to make the matter
+ savoury, nor no matter in the phrase that might
+ indict the author of affectation; but called it an
+ honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very
+ much more handsome than fine. One speech in it I
+ chiefly loved: 'twas Aeneas' tale to Dido; and
+ thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of
+ Priam's slaughter: if it live in your memory, begin
+ at this line: let me see, let me see---
+\begin{Versus}
+ \Locus \textus {+2em}
+ `The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast,'---
+\end{Versus}
+ it is not so:---it begins with Pyrrhus:---
+\begin{Versus}
+ \Locus \textus {+2em}
+ `The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms,
+ Black as his purpose, did the night resemble
+ When he lay couched in the ominous horse,
+ Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd
+ With heraldry more dismal; head to foot
+ Now is he total gules; horridly trick'd
+ With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,
+ Baked and impasted with the parching streets,
+ That lend a tyrannous and damned light
+ To their lord's murder: roasted in wrath and fire,
+ And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore,
+ With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
+ Old grandsire Priam seeks.'\\
+\end{Versus}
+ So, proceed you.
+
+\5 'Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and
+ good discretion.
+
+\begin{Versus}
+\03 'Anon he finds him
+ \Locus \textus {+2em}
+ Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword,
+ Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
+ Repugnant to command: unequal match'd,
+ Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide;
+ But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
+ The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,
+ Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
+ Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash
+ Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear: for, lo! his sword,
+ Which was declining on the milky head
+ Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick:
+ So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood,
+ And like a neutral to his will and matter,
+ Did nothing.
+ But, as we often see, against some storm,
+ A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,
+ The bold winds speechless and the orb below
+ As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder
+ Doth rend the region, so, after Pyrrhus' pause,
+ Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work;
+ And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
+ On Mars's armour forged for proof eterne
+ With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
+ Now falls on Priam.
+ Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods,
+ In general synod `take away her power;
+ Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
+ And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,
+ As low as to the fiends!'
+\end{Versus}
+
+\5 This is too long.
+
+\1 \DriveOut* It shall to the barber's, with your beard. Prithee,
+ say on: he's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he
+ sleeps: say on: come to Hecuba.
+
+\03 `But who, O, who had seen the mobled queen---'
+
+\1 `The mobled queen?'
+
+\5 That's good; `mobled queen' is good.
+
+\begin{Versus}
+ \Locus \textus {+2em}
+\03
+ `Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames
+ With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head
+ Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe,
+ About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins,
+ A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up;
+ Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd,
+ 'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have
+ pronounced:
+ But if the gods themselves did see her then
+ When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
+ In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs,
+ The instant burst of clamour that she made,
+ Unless things mortal move them not at all,
+ Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,
+ And passion in the gods.'
+\end{Versus}
+
+\5 Look, whether he has not turned his colour and has
+ tears in's eyes. Pray you, no more.
+
+\1 'Tis well: I'll have thee speak out the rest soon.
+ Good my lord, will you see the players well
+ bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for
+ they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the
+ time: after your death you were better have a bad
+ epitaph than their ill report while you live.
+
+\5 My lord, I will use them according to their desert.
+
+\1 God's bodykins, man, much better: use every man
+ after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping?
+ Use them after your own honour and dignity: the less
+ they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty.
+ Take them in.
+
+\5 Come, sirs.
+
+\1 \DriveOut* Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play to-morrow.
+ \[Exit \5 with all the Players but the First\]
+ Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you play the
+ Murder of Gonzago?
+
+\03 Ay, my lord.
+
+\1 We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need,
+ study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which
+ I would set down and insert in't, could you not?
+
+\03 Ay, my lord.
+
+\1 Very well. Follow that lord; and look you mock him
+ not. \[r]exit \03\]
+\00\[to \10 and \11\]My good friends, I'll leave you till night: you are
+ welcome to Elsinore.
+
+\10 Good my lord! \[r]exeunt \10 and \11 \]
+
+\endProsa
+
+\1 Ay, so, God be wi' ye; Now I am alone.
+ O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
+ Is it not monstrous that this player here,
+ But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
+ Could force his soul so to his own conceit
+ That from her working all his visage wann'd,
+ Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,
+ A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
+ With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing!
+ For Hecuba!
+ What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
+ That he should weep for her? What would he do,
+ Had he the motive and the cue for passion
+ That I have? He would drown the stage with tears
+ And cleave the general ear with horrid speech,
+ Make mad the guilty and appal the free,
+ Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed
+ The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I,
+ A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,
+ Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,
+ And can say nothing; no, not for a king,
+ Upon whose property and most dear life
+ A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
+ Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
+ Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
+ Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat,
+ As deep as to the lungs? who does me this?
+ Ha! 'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be
+ But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall
+ To make oppression bitter, or ere this
+ I should have fatted all the region kites
+ With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain!
+ Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
+ O, vengeance!
+ Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,
+ That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,
+ Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
+ Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
+ And fall a-cursing, like a very drab,
+ A scullion! Fie upon't! foh!
+ About, my brain! I have heard
+ That guilty creatures sitting at a play
+ Have by the very cunning of the scene
+ Been struck so to the soul that presently
+ They have proclaim'd their malefactions;
+ For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
+ With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players
+ Play something like the murder of my father
+ Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;
+ I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench,
+ I know my course. The spirit that I have seen
+ May be the devil: and the devil hath power
+ To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps
+ Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
+ As he is very potent with such spirits,
+ Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds
+ More relative than this: the play 's the thing
+ Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. \[r]exit\]
+
+
+\Act %3
+
+\Scene {A room in the castle}
+
+ \(c)Enter \2, \3, \5, \4,\\ \10, and \11\)
+
+\2 And can you, by no drift of circumstance,
+ Get from him why he puts on this confusion,
+ Grating so harshly all his days of quiet
+ With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?
+
+\10 He does confess he feels himself distracted;
+ But from what cause he will by no means speak.
+
+\11 Nor do we find him forward to be sounded,
+ But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof,
+ When we would bring him on to some confession
+ Of his true state. \\
+
+\3 Did he receive you well?
+
+\10 Most like a gentleman.
+
+\11 But with much forcing of his disposition.
+
+\10 Niggard of question; but, of our demands,
+ Most free in his reply. \\
+
+\3 Did you assay him?
+ To any pastime?
+
+\10 Madam, it so fell out, that certain players
+ We o'er-raught on the way: of these we told him;
+ And there did seem in him a kind of joy
+ To hear of it: they are about the court,
+ And, as I think, they have already order
+ This night to play before him. \\
+
+\5 'Tis most true:
+ And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties
+ To hear and see the matter.
+
+\2 With all my heart; and it doth much content me
+ To hear him so inclined.
+ Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,
+ And drive his purpose on to these delights.
+
+\10 We shall, my lord. \\ \[r]exeunt \10 and \11\]
+\2 Sweet Gertrude, leave us too;
+ For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither,
+ That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
+ Affront Ophelia:
+ Her father and myself, lawful espials,
+ Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing, unseen,
+ We may of their encounter frankly judge,
+ And gather by him, as he is behaved,
+ If 't be the affliction of his love or no
+ That thus he suffers for. \\
+
+\3 I shall obey you.
+ And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish
+ That your good beauties be the happy cause
+ Of Hamlet's wildness: so shall I hope your virtues
+ Will bring him to his wonted way again,
+ To both your honours. \\
+
+\4 Madam, I wish it may. \[r]exit \3\]
+\5 Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious, so please you,
+ We will bestow ourselves. Read on this book;
+ That show of such an exercise may colour
+ Your loneliness. We are oft to blame in this,---
+ 'Tis too much proved---that with devotion's visage
+ And pious action we do sugar o'er
+ The devil himself. \\
+
+\aparte\2 O, 'tis too true!
+ How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience!
+ The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastering art,
+ Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it
+ Than is my deed to my most painted word:
+ O heavy burthen! \\
+
+\5 I hear him coming: let's withdraw, my lord. \[r]exeunt \2 and \5\]
+
+ \(Enter \1\)
+
+\1 To be, or not to be: that is the question:
+ Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
+ The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
+ Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
+ And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
+ No more; and by a sleep to say we end
+ The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
+ That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
+ Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
+ To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
+ For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
+ When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
+ Must give us pause: there's the respect
+ That makes calamity of so long life;
+ For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
+ The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
+ The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
+ The insolence of office and the spurns
+ That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
+ When he himself might his quietus make
+ With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
+ To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
+ But that the dread of something after death,
+ The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
+ No traveller returns, puzzles the will
+ And makes us rather bear those ills we have
+ Than fly to others that we know not of?
+ Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
+ And thus the native hue of resolution
+ Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
+ And enterprises of great pith and moment
+ With this regard their currents turn awry,
+ And lose the name of action.---Soft you now!
+ The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
+ Be all my sins remember'd. \\
+
+\4 Good my lord,
+ How does your honour for this many a day?
+
+\1 I humbly thank you; well, well, well.
+
+\4 My lord, I have remembrances of yours,
+ That I have longed long to re-deliver;
+ I pray you, now receive them. \\
+
+\1 No, not I;
+ I never gave you aught.
+
+\4 My honour'd lord, you know right well you did;
+ And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed
+ As made the things more rich: their perfume lost,
+ Take these again; for to the noble mind
+ Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
+ There, my lord. \\
+
+\1 Ha, ha! are you honest?
+
+\Prosa
+
+\4 My lord?
+
+\1 Are you fair?
+
+\4 What means your lordship?
+
+\1 That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should
+ admit no discourse to your beauty.
+
+\4 Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than
+ with honesty?
+
+\1 Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner
+ transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the
+ force of honesty can translate beauty into his
+ likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the
+ time gives it proof. I did love you once.
+
+\4 Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
+
+\1 You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot
+ so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of
+ it: I loved you not.
+
+\4 I was the more deceived.
+
+\1 Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a
+ breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest;
+ but yet I could accuse me of such things that it
+ were better my mother had not borne me: I am very
+ proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at
+ my beck than I have thoughts to put them in,
+ imagination to give them shape, or time to act them
+ in. What should such fellows as I do crawling
+ between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves,
+ all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery.
+ Where's your father?
+
+\4 At home, my lord.
+
+\1 Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the
+ fool no where but in's own house. Farewell.
+
+\4 O, help him, you sweet heavens!
+
+\1 If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for
+ thy dowry: be thou as chaste 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. Farewell.
+
+\4 O heavenly powers, restore him!
+
+\1 I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God
+ has given you one face, and you make yourselves
+ another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and
+ nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness
+ your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath
+ made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages:
+ those that are married already, all but one, shall
+ live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a
+ nunnery, go. \[r]exit\]
+
+\endProsa
+
+\4 O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
+ The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword;
+ The expectancy and rose of the fair state,
+ The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
+ The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!
+ And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
+ That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
+ Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
+ Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;
+ That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth
+ Blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me,
+ To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!
+
+ \(Re-enter \2 and \5\)
+
+\2 Love! his affections do not that way tend;
+ Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little,
+ Was not like madness. There's something in his soul,
+ O'er which his melancholy sits on brood;
+ And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose
+ Will be some danger: which for to prevent,
+ I have in quick determination
+ Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England,
+ For the demand of our neglected tribute
+ Haply the seas and countries different
+ With variable objects shall expel
+ This something-settled matter in his heart,
+ Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus
+ From fashion of himself. What think you on't?
+
+\5 It shall do well: but yet do I believe
+ The origin and commencement of his grief
+ Sprung from neglected love. How now, Ophelia!
+ You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said;
+ We heard it all. My lord, do as you please;
+ But, if you hold it fit, after the play
+ Let his queen mother all alone entreat him
+ To show his grief: let her be round with him;
+ And I'll be placed, so please you, in the ear
+ Of all their conference. If she find him not,
+ To England send him, or confine him where
+ Your wisdom best shall think. \\
+
+\2 It shall be so:
+ Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. \[r]exeunt\]
+
+\Scene {A hall in the castle}
+
+ \(Enter \1 and Players\)
+
+\Prosa
+
+\1 Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to
+ you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it,
+ as many of your players do, I had as lief the
+ town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air
+ too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently;
+ for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say,
+ the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget
+ a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it
+ offends me to the soul to hear a robustious
+ periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to
+ very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who
+ for the most part are capable of nothing but
+ inexplicable dumbshows and noise: I would have such
+ a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it
+ out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it.
+
+\03 I warrant your honour.
+
+\1 Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion
+ be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the
+ word to the action; with this special o'erstep not
+ the modesty of nature: for any thing so overdone is
+ from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the
+ first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the
+ mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature,
+ scorn her own image, and the very age and body of
+ the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone,
+ or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful
+ laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the
+ censure of the which one must in your allowance
+ o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be
+ players that I have seen play, and heard others
+ praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely,
+ that, neither having the accent of Christians nor
+ the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so
+ strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of
+ nature's journeymen had made men and not made them
+ well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
+
+\03 I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us,
+ sir.
+
+\1 O, reform it altogether. And let those that play
+ your clowns speak no more than is set down for them;
+ for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to
+ set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh
+ too; though, in the mean time, some necessary
+ question of the play be then to be considered:
+ that's villanous, and shows a most pitiful ambition
+ in the fool that uses it. Go, make you ready. \[r]Exeunt Players\]
+
+ \(Enter \5, \10, and \11\)
+
+ How now, my lord! I will the king hear this piece of work?
+
+\endProsa
+
+\5 And the queen too, and that presently.
+
+\1 Bid the players make haste. \[r]exit \5\]
+ Will you two help to hasten them?
+
+\10 We will, my lord. \[r]exeunt \10 and \11\]
+
+\1 What ho! Horatio!
+
+ \(Enter \6\)
+
+\6 Here, sweet lord, at your service.
+
+\1 Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
+ As e'er my conversation coped withal.
+
+\6 O, my dear lord,--- \\
+
+\1 Nay, do not think I flatter;
+ For what advancement may I hope from thee
+ That no revenue hast but thy good spirits,
+ To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd?
+ No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,
+ And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee
+ Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?
+ Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice
+ And could of men distinguish, her election
+ Hath seal'd thee for herself; for thou hast been
+ As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing,
+ A man that fortune's buffets and rewards
+ Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and blest are those
+ Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled,
+ That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger
+ To sound what stop she please. Give me that man
+ That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
+ In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
+ As I do thee.---Something too much of this.---
+ There is a play to-night before the king;
+ One scene of it comes near the circumstance
+ Which I have told thee of my father's death:
+ I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot,
+ Even with the very comment of thy soul
+ Observe mine uncle: if his occulted guilt
+ Do not itself unkennel in one speech,
+ It is a damned ghost that we have seen,
+ And my imaginations are as foul
+ As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note;
+ For I mine eyes will rivet to his face,
+ And after we will both our judgments join
+ In censure of his seeming. \\
+
+\6 Well, my lord:
+ If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing,
+ And 'scape detecting, I will pay the theft.
+
+
+\1 They are coming to the play; I must be idle:
+ Get you a place.
+
+\Prosa
+
+ \(c)Danish march. A flourish. \\Enter \2, \3, \5, \4,\\
+ \10, \11, and others\)
+
+\2 How fares our cousin Hamlet?
+
+\1 Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish: I eat
+ the air, promise-crammed: you cannot feed capons so.
+
+\2 I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet; these words
+ are not mine.
+
+\1 No, nor mine now. \[To \5\] My lord, you played once
+ i' the university, you say?
+
+\5 That did I, my lord; and was accounted a good actor.
+
+\1 What did you enact?
+
+\5 I did enact Julius Caesar: I was killed i' the
+ Capitol; Brutus killed me.
+
+\1 It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf
+ there. Be the players ready?
+
+\10 Ay, my lord; they stay upon your patience.
+
+\3 Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.
+
+\1 No, good mother, here's metal more attractive.
+
+\aparte\5 \[To \2\] O, ho! do you mark that?
+
+\1 Lady, shall I lie in your lap? \[Lying down at \4's feet\]
+
+\4 No, my lord.
+
+\1 I mean, my head upon your lap?
+
+\4 Ay, my lord.
+
+\1 Do you think I meant country matters?
+
+\4 I think nothing, my lord.
+
+\1 That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.
+
+\4 What is, my lord?
+
+\1 Nothing.
+
+\4 You are merry, my lord.
+
+\1 Who, I?
+
+\4 Ay, my lord.
+
+\1 O God, your only jig-maker. What should a man do
+ but be merry? for, look you, how cheerfully my
+ mother looks, and my father died within these two hours.
+
+\4 Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord.
+
+\1 So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for
+ I'll have a suit of sables. O heavens! die two
+ months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's
+ hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half
+ a year: but, by'r lady, he must build churches,
+ then; or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with
+ the hobby-horse, whose epitaph is `For, O, for, O,
+ the hobby-horse is forgot.'
+
+ \(Hautboys play. The dumb-show enters\)
+
+ \(Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen
+ embracing him, and he her. She kneels, and makes
+ show of protestation unto him. He takes her up,
+ and declines his head upon her neck: lays him down
+ upon a bank of flowers: she, seeing him asleep,
+ leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his
+ crown, kisses it, and pours poison in the King's
+ ears, and exit. The Queen returns; finds the King
+ dead, and makes passionate action. The Poisoner,
+ with some two or three Mutes, comes in again,
+ seeming to lament with her. The dead body is
+ carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with
+ gifts: she seems loath and unwilling awhile, but
+ in the end accepts his love\)
+
+\4 What means this, my lord?
+
+\1 Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief.
+
+\4 Belike this show imports the argument of the play.
+
+ \(Enter Prologue\)
+
+\1 We shall know by this fellow: the players cannot
+ keep counsel; they'll tell all.
+
+\4 Will he tell us what this show meant?
+
+\1 Ay, or any show that you'll show him: be not you
+ ashamed to show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means.
+
+\4 You are naught, you are naught: I'll mark the play.
+
+\begin{versus}
+\persona{Prologue} \\
+ \Locus \textus {+6em}
+ For us, and for our tragedy,
+ Here stooping to your clemency,
+ We beg your hearing patiently. \[r]exit\]
+\end{versus}
+
+\1 Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?
+
+\4 'Tis brief, my lord.
+
+\1 As woman's love.
+
+\Versus
+
+ \(Enter two Players, King and Queen\)
+
+\persona{Player King} Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round
+ Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground,
+ And thirty dozen moons with borrow'd sheen
+ About the world have times twelve thirties been,
+ Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands
+ Unite commutual in most sacred bands.
+
+\persona{Player Queen} So many journeys may the sun and moon
+ Make us again count o'er ere love be done!
+ But, woe is me, you are so sick of late,
+ So far from cheer and from your former state,
+ That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,
+ Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must:
+ For women's fear and love holds quantity;
+ In neither aught, or in extremity.
+ Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know;
+ And as my love is sized, my fear is so:
+ Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;
+ Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.
+
+\persona{Player King} 'Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too;
+ My operant powers their functions leave to do:
+ And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
+ Honour'd, beloved; and haply one as kind
+ For husband shalt thou--- \\
+
+\persona{Player Queen} O, confound the rest!
+ Such love must needs be treason in my breast:
+ In second husband let me be accurst!
+ None wed the second but who kill'd the first.
+
+\aparte\1 Wormwood, wormwood.
+
+\persona{Player Queen} The instances that second marriage move
+ Are base respects of thrift, but none of love:
+ A second time I kill my husband dead,
+ When second husband kisses me in bed.
+
+\persona{Player King} I do believe you think what now you speak;
+ But what we do determine oft we break.
+ Purpose is but the slave to memory,
+ Of violent birth, but poor validity;
+ Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree;
+ But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be.
+ Most necessary 'tis that we forget
+ To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt:
+ What to ourselves in passion we propose,
+ The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
+ The violence of either grief or joy
+ Their own enactures with themselves destroy:
+ Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
+ Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.
+ This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange
+ That even our loves should with our fortunes change;
+ For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,
+ Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
+ The great man down, you mark his favourite flies;
+ The poor advanced makes friends of enemies.
+ And hitherto doth love on fortune tend;
+ For who not needs shall never lack a friend,
+ And who in want a hollow friend doth try,
+ Directly seasons him his enemy.
+ But, orderly to end where I begun,
+ Our wills and fates do so contrary run
+ That our devices still are overthrown;
+ Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own:
+ So think thou wilt no second husband wed;
+ But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.
+
+\persona{Player Queen} Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light!
+ Sport and repose lock from me day and night!
+ To desperation turn my trust and hope!
+ An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope!
+ Each opposite that blanks the face of joy
+ Meet what I would have well and it destroy!
+ Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife,
+ If, once a widow, ever I be wife!
+
+\1 If she should break it now!
+
+\persona{Player King} 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile;
+ My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
+ The tedious day with sleep. \\ \[r]he sleeps\]
+
+\persona{Player Queen} Sleep rock thy brain,
+ And never come mischance between us twain! \[r]exit\]
+
+\endVersus
+
+\1 Madam, how like you this play?
+
+\3 The lady protests too much, methinks.
+
+\1 O, but she'll keep her word.
+
+\2 Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in 't?
+
+\1 No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence
+ i' the world.
+
+\2 What do you call the play?
+
+\1 The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play
+ is the image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is
+ the duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see
+ anon; 'tis a knavish piece of work: but what o'
+ that? your majesty and we that have free souls, it
+ touches us not: let the galled jade wince, our
+ withers are unwrung.
+
+ \(Enter \persona{Lucianus}\)
+
+ This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king.
+
+\4 You are as good as a chorus, my lord.
+
+\1 I could interpret between you and your love, if I
+ could see the puppets dallying.
+
+\4 You are keen, my lord, you are keen.
+
+\1 It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.
+
+\4 Still better, and worse.
+
+\1 So you must take your husbands. Begin, murderer;
+ pox, leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come:
+ `the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.'
+
+\Versus
+
+\persona{Lucianus} Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;
+ Confederate season, else no creature seeing;
+ Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
+ With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
+ Thy natural magic and dire property,
+ On wholesome life usurp immediately.
+ \[r]Pours the poison into the sleeper's ears\]
+\endVersus
+
+\1 He poisons him i' the garden for's estate. His
+ name's Gonzago: the story is extant, and writ in
+ choice Italian: you shall see anon how the murderer
+ gets the love of Gonzago's wife.
+
+\4 The king rises.
+
+\1 What, frighted with false fire!
+
+\3 How fares my lord?
+
+\5 Give o'er the play.
+
+\2 Give me some light: away!
+
+\persona{All} Lights, lights, lights! \[r]exeunt all but \1 and \6\]
+\begin{song}[-2.5]
+\1 \\
+ Why, let the stricken deer go weep,
+ The hart ungalled play;
+ For some must watch, while some must sleep:
+ So runs the world away.
+\end{song}
+ Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers--- if
+ the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me---with two
+ Provincial roses on my razed shoes, get me a
+ fellowship in a cry of players, sir?
+
+\6 Half a share.
+
+\1 A whole one, I.
+\begin{song}[-2.5]
+ For thou dost know, O Damon dear,
+ This realm dismantled was
+ Of Jove himself; and now reigns here
+ A very, very---pajock.
+\end{song}
+
+\6 You might have rhymed.
+
+\1 O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a
+ thousand pound. Didst perceive?
+
+\6 Very well, my lord.
+
+\1 Upon the talk of the poisoning?
+
+\6 I did very well note him.
+
+\1 \DriveOut* Ah, ha! Come, some music! come, the re\-cord\-ers!
+
+\begin{song}[-2.5]
+ For if the king like not the comedy,
+ Why then, belike, he likes it not, perdy.
+\end{song}
+
+ Come, some music!
+
+ \(Re-enter \10 and \11\)
+
+\11 Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.
+
+\1 Sir, a whole history.
+
+\11 The king, sir,---
+
+\1 Ay, sir, what of him?
+
+\11 Is in his retirement marvellous distempered.
+
+\1 With drink, sir?
+
+\11 No, my lord, rather with choler.
+
+\1 Your wisdom should show itself more richer to
+ signify this to his doctor; for, for me to put him
+ to his purgation would perhaps plunge him into far
+ more choler.
+
+\11 Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame and
+ start not so wildly from my affair.
+
+\1 I am tame, sir: pronounce.
+
+\11 The queen, your mother, in most great affliction of
+ spirit, hath sent me to you.
+
+\1 You are welcome.
+
+\11 Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right
+ breed. If it shall please you to make me a
+ wholesome answer, I will do your mother's
+ commandment: if not, your pardon and my return
+ shall be the end of my business.
+
+\1 Sir, I cannot.
+
+\11 What, my lord?
+
+\1 Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseased: but,
+ sir, such answer as I can make, you shall command;
+ or, rather, as you say, my mother: therefore no
+ more, but to the matter: my mother, you say,---
+
+\10 Then thus she says; your behavior hath struck her
+ into amazement and admiration.
+
+\1 O wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother! But
+ is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's
+ admiration? Impart.
+
+\10 She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you
+ go to bed.
+
+\1 We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have
+ you any further trade with us?
+
+\10 My lord, you once did love me.
+
+\1 So I do still, by these pickers and stealers.
+
+\10 Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? you
+ do, surely, bar the door upon your own liberty, if
+ you deny your griefs to your friend.
+
+\1 Sir, I lack advancement.
+
+\10 How can that be, when you have the voice of the king
+ himself for your succession in Denmark?
+
+\1 Ay, but sir, `While the grass grows,' --- the proverb
+ is something musty.
+
+ \(Re-enter Players with recorders\)
+
+ O, the recorders! let me see one. To withdraw with
+ you:---why do you go about to recover the wind of me,
+ as if you would drive me into a toil?
+
+\11 O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too
+ unmannerly.
+
+\1 I do not well understand that. Will you play upon
+ this pipe?
+
+\11 My lord, I cannot.
+
+\1 I pray you.
+
+\11 Believe me, I cannot.
+
+\1 I do beseech you.
+
+\11 I know no touch of it, my lord.
+
+\1 'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with
+ your lingers and thumb, give it breath with your
+ mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music.
+ Look you, these are the stops.
+
+\11 But these cannot I command to any utterance of
+ harmony; I have not the skill.
+
+\1 Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of
+ me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know
+ my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my
+ mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to
+ the top of my compass: and there is much music,
+ excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot
+ you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am
+ easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what
+ instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you
+ cannot play upon me.
+
+ \(Enter \5\)
+
+ God bless you, sir!
+
+\5 My lord, the queen would speak with you, and
+ presently.
+
+\1 Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel?
+
+\5 By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed.
+
+\1 Methinks it is like a weasel.
+
+\5 It is backed like a weasel.
+
+\1 Or like a whale?
+
+\5 Very like a whale.
+
+\1 Then I will come to my mother by and by. They fool
+ me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by.
+
+\5 I will say so.
+
+\1 By and by is easily said. \[r]exit \5\]
+
+\endProsa
+
+ Leave me, friends. \[r]exeunt all but \1\]
+
+ Tis now the very witching time of night,
+ When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
+ Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood,
+ And do such bitter business as the day
+ Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother.
+ O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever
+ The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom:
+ Let me be cruel, not unnatural:
+ I will speak daggers to her, but use none;
+ My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites;
+ How in my words soever she be shent,
+ To give them seals never, my soul, consent! \[r]exit\]
+
+\Scene {A room in the castle}
+
+ \(Enter \2, \10, and \11\)
+
+\2 I like him not, nor stands it safe with us
+ To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you;
+ I your commission will forthwith dispatch,
+ And he to England shall along with you:
+ The terms of our estate may not endure
+ Hazard so dangerous as doth hourly grow
+ Out of his lunacies. \\
+
+\11 We will ourselves provide:
+ Most holy and religious fear it is
+ To keep those many many bodies safe
+ That live and feed upon your majesty.
+
+\10 The single and peculiar life is bound,
+ With all the strength and armour of the mind,
+ To keep itself from noyance; but much more
+ That spirit upon whose weal depend and rest
+ The lives of many. The cease of majesty
+ Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw
+ What's near it with it: it is a massy wheel,
+ Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount,
+ To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
+ Are mortised and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
+ Each small annexment, petty consequence,
+ Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone
+ Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.
+
+\2 Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage;
+ For we will fetters put upon this fear,
+ Which now goes too free-footed. \\
+
+\10 We will haste us. \[r]exeunt \10 and \11\]
+
+ \(Enter \5\)
+
+\5 My lord, he's going to his mother's closet:
+ Behind the arras I'll convey myself,
+ To hear the process; and warrant she'll tax him home:
+ And, as you said, and wisely was it said,
+ 'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother,
+ Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear
+ The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege:
+ I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
+ And tell you what I know. \\
+
+\2 Thanks, dear my lord. \[r]exit \5\]
+ O, my offence is rank it smells to heaven;
+ It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
+ A brother's murder. Pray can I not,
+ Though inclination be as sharp as will:
+ My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
+ And, like a man to double business bound,
+ I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
+ And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
+ Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
+ Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
+ To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
+ But to confront the visage of offence?
+ And what's in prayer but this two-fold force,
+ To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
+ Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
+ My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
+ Can serve my turn? `Forgive me my foul murder'?
+ That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
+ Of those effects for which I did the murder,
+ My crown, mine own ambition and my queen.
+ May one be pardon'd and retain the offence?
+ In the corrupted currents of this world
+ Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,
+ And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
+ Buys out the law: but 'tis not so above;
+ There is no shuffling, there the action lies
+ In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd,
+ Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
+ To give in evidence. What then? what rests?
+ Try what repentance can: what can it not?
+ Yet what can it when one can not repent?
+ O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
+ O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
+ Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay!
+ Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of steel,
+ Be soft as sinews of the newborn babe!
+ All may be well. \[r]he kneels\]
+
+ \(Enter \1\)
+
+\1 Now might I do it pat, now he is praying;
+ And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven;
+ And so am I revenged. That would be scann'd:
+ A villain kills my father; and for that,
+ I, his sole son, do this same villain send
+ To heaven.
+ O, this is hire and salary, not revenge.
+ He took my father grossly, full of bread;
+ With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
+ And how his audit stands who knows save heaven?
+ But in our circumstance and course of thought,
+ 'Tis heavy with him: and am I then revenged,
+ To take him in the purging of his soul,
+ When he is fit and season'd for his passage?
+ No!
+ Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent:
+ When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage,
+ Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed;
+ At gaming, swearing, or about some act
+ That has no relish of salvation in't;
+ Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,
+ And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
+ As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays:
+ This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. \[r]exit\]
+
+\2 \[rising\] My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:
+ Words without thoughts never to heaven go. \[r]exit\]
+
+
+\Scene {The Queen's closet}
+
+ \(Enter \3 and \5\)
+
+\5 He will come straight. Look you lay home to him:
+ Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with,
+ And that your grace hath screen'd and stood between
+ Much heat and him. I'll sconce me even here.
+ Pray you, be round with him. \\
+
+\1 \[within\] Mother, mother, mother! \\
+
+\3 I'll warrant you,
+ Fear me not: withdraw, I hear him coming.
+ \[r]\5 hides behind the arras\]
+
+ \(Enter \1\)
+
+\1 Now, mother, what's the matter?
+
+\3 Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
+
+\1 Mother, you have my father much offended.
+
+\3 Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
+
+\1 Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
+
+\3 Why, how now, Hamlet! \\
+
+\1 What's the matter now?
+
+\3 Have you forgot me? \\
+
+\1 No, by the rood, not so:
+ You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife;
+ And---would it were not so!---you are my mother.
+
+\3 Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak.
+
+\1 Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge;
+ You go not till I set you up a glass
+ Where you may see the inmost part of you.
+
+\3 What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me?
+ Help, help, ho! \\
+
+\5 \[behind\] What, ho! help, help, help!
+
+\1 \[drawing\] How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead! %
+ \[r]makes a pass through the arras\]
+
+\5 \[behind\] O, I am slain!
+
+\3 O me, what hast thou done? \\
+
+\1 Nay, I know not:
+ Is it the king?
+
+\3 O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!
+
+\1 A bloody deed! almost as bad, good mother,
+ As kill a king, and marry with his brother.
+
+\3 As kill a king! \\
+
+\1 Ay, lady, 'twas my word.
+ \[Lifts up the array and discovers \5\]
+ Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
+ I took thee for thy better: take thy fortune;
+ Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger.
+ Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down,
+ And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,
+ If it be made of penetrable stuff,
+ If damned custom have not brass'd it so
+ That it is proof and bulwark against sense.
+
+\3 What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue
+ In noise so rude against me? \\
+
+\1 Such an act
+ That blurs the grace and blush of modesty,
+ Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose
+ From the fair forehead of an innocent love
+ And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows
+ As false as dicers' oaths: O, such a deed
+ As from the body of contraction plucks
+ The very soul, and sweet religion makes
+ A rhapsody of words: heaven's face doth glow:
+ Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
+ With tristful visage, as against the doom,
+ Is thought-sick at the act. \\
+
+\3 Ay me, what act,
+ That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?
+
+\1 Look here, upon this picture, and on this,
+ The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
+ See, what a grace was seated on this brow;
+ Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
+ An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
+ A station like the herald Mercury
+ New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;
+ A combination and a form indeed,
+ Where every god did seem to set his seal,
+ To give the world assurance of a man:
+ This was your husband. Look you now, what follows:
+ Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear,
+ Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?
+ Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
+ And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?
+ You cannot call it love; for at your age
+ The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
+ And waits upon the judgment: and what judgment
+ Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have,
+ Else could you not have motion; but sure, that sense
+ Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err,
+ Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd
+ But it reserved some quantity of choice,
+ To serve in such a difference. What devil was't
+ That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind?
+ Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
+ Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
+ Or but a sickly part of one true sense
+ Could not so mope.
+ O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,
+ If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
+ To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
+ And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame
+ When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
+ Since frost itself as actively doth burn
+ And reason panders will. \\
+
+\3 O Hamlet, speak no more:
+ Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul;
+ And there I see such black and grained spots
+ As will not leave their tinct. \\
+
+\1 Nay, but to live
+ In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,
+ Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love
+ Over the nasty sty,--- \\
+
+\3 O, speak to me no more;
+ These words, like daggers, enter in mine ears;
+ No more, sweet Hamlet! \\
+
+\1 A murderer and a villain;
+ A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
+ Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings;
+ A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,
+ That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
+ And put it in his pocket! \\
+
+\3 No more!
+
+\1 A king of shreds and patches,---
+
+ \(Enter the \18\)
+
+ Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings,
+ You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?
+
+\3 Alas, he's mad!
+
+\1 Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
+ That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by
+ The important acting of your dread command? O, say!
+
+\18 Do not forget: this visitation
+ Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
+ But, look, amazement on thy mother sits:
+ O, step between her and her fighting soul:
+ Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works:
+ Speak to her, Hamlet. \\
+
+\1 How is it with you, lady?
+
+\3 Alas, how is't with you,
+ That you do bend your eye on vacancy
+ And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?
+ Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
+ And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
+ Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,
+ Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son,
+ Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
+ Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?
+
+\1 On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares!
+ His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
+ Would make them capable. Do not look upon me;
+ Lest with this piteous action you convert
+ My stern effects: then what I have to do
+ Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood.
+
+\3 To whom do you speak this? \\
+
+\1 Do you see nothing there?
+
+\3 Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.
+
+\1 Nor did you nothing hear? \\
+
+\3 No, nothing but ourselves.
+
+\1 Why, look you there! look, how it steals away!
+ My father, in his habit as he lived!
+ Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal! \[r]exit the \18\]
+
+\3 This the very coinage of your brain:
+ This bodiless creation ecstasy
+ Is very cunning in. \\
+
+\1 Ecstasy!
+ My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
+ And makes as healthful music: it is not madness
+ That I have utter'd: bring me to the test,
+ And I the matter will re-word; which madness
+ Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
+ Lay not that mattering unction to your soul,
+ That not your trespass, but my madness speaks:
+ It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
+ Whilst rank corruption, mining all within,
+ Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;
+ Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
+ And do not spread the compost on the weeds,
+ To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue;
+ For in the fatness of these pursy times
+ Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg,
+ Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good.
+
+\3 O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.
+
+\1 O, throw away the worser part of it,
+ And live the purer with the other half.
+ Good night: but go not to mine uncle's bed;
+ Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
+ That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat,
+ Of habits devil, is angel yet in this,
+ That to the use of actions fair and good
+ He likewise gives a frock or livery,
+ That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night,
+ And that shall lend a kind of easiness
+ To the next abstinence: the next more easy;
+ For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
+ And either \[ \] the devil, or throw him out
+ With wondrous potency. Once more, good night:
+ And when you are desirous to be bless'd,
+ I'll blessing beg of you. For this same lord,
+ \[r]pointing to \5\]
+ I do repent: but heaven hath pleased it so,
+ To punish me with this and this with me,
+ That I must be their scourge and minister.
+ I will bestow him, and will answer well
+ The death I gave him. So, again, good night.
+ I must be cruel, only to be kind:
+ Thus bad begins and worse remains behind.
+ One word more, good lady. \\
+
+\3 What shall I do?
+
+\1 Not this, by no means, that I bid you do:
+ Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed;
+ Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse;
+ And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses,
+ Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
+ Make you to ravel all this matter out,
+ That I essentially am not in madness,
+ But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know;
+ For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
+ Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,
+ Such dear concernings hide? who would do so?
+ No, in despite of sense and secrecy,
+ Unpeg the basket on the house's top.
+ Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape,
+ To try conclusions, in the basket creep,
+ And break your own neck down.
+
+\3 Be thou assured, if words be made of breath,
+ And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
+ What thou hast said to me.
+
+\1 I must to England; you know that? \\
+
+\3 Alack,
+ I had forgot: 'tis so concluded on.
+
+\1 There's letters seal'd: and my two schoolfellows,
+ Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd,
+ They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way,
+ And marshal me to knavery. Let it work;
+ For 'tis the sport to have the engineer
+ Hoist with his own petard: and 't shall go hard
+ But I will delve one yard below their mines,
+ And blow them at the moon: O, 'tis most sweet,
+ When in one line two crafts directly meet.
+ This man shall set me packing:
+ I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room.
+ Mother, good night. Indeed this counsellor
+ Is now most still, most secret and most grave,
+ Who was in life a foolish prating knave.
+ Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you.
+ Good night, mother.
+ \[exeunt severally; \1 dragging in \5\]
+
+
+\Act %4
+
+\Scene {A room in the castle}
+
+ \(Enter \2, \3, \10, and \11\)
+
+\2 There's matter in these sighs, these profound heaves:
+ You must translate: 'tis fit we understand them.
+ Where is your son?
+
+\3 Bestow this place on us a little while.
+ \[Exeunt \10 and \11\]
+ Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to-night!
+
+\2 What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet?
+
+\3 Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend
+ Which is the mightier: in his lawless fit,
+ Behind the arras hearing something stir,
+ Whips out his rapier, cries, `A rat, a rat!'
+ And, in this brainish apprehension, kills
+ The unseen good old man. \\
+
+\2 O heavy deed!
+ It had been so with us, had we been there:
+ His liberty is full of threats to all;
+ To you yourself, to us, to every one.
+ Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd?
+ It will be laid to us, whose providence
+ Should have kept short, restrain'd and out of haunt,
+ This mad young man: but so much was our love,
+ We would not understand what was most fit;
+ But, like the owner of a foul disease,
+ To keep it from divulging, let it feed
+ Even on the pith of Life. Where is he gone?
+
+\3 To draw apart the body he hath kill'd:
+ O'er whom his very madness, like some ore
+ Among a mineral of metals base,
+ Shows itself pure; he weeps for what is done.
+
+\2 O Gertrude, come away!
+ The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch,
+ But we will ship him hence: and this vile deed
+ We must, with all our majesty and skill,
+ Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guildenstern!
+
+ \(Re-enter \10 and \11\)
+
+ Friends both, go join you with some further aid:
+ Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain,
+ And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him:
+ Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body
+ Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this. \[r]exeunt \10 and \11\]
+ Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends;
+ And let them know, both what we mean to do,
+ And what's untimely done: [so haply slander,]
+ Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,
+ As level as the cannon to his blank,
+ Transports his poison'd shot, may miss our name,
+ And hit the woundless air. O, come away!
+ My soul is full of discord and dismay. \[r]exeunt\]
+
+
+\Scene {Another room in the castle}
+
+ \(Enter \1\)
+
+\Prosa
+
+\1 Safely stowed.
+
+
+\personae{Rosencrantz, Guildenstern} Hamlet! Lord Hamlet!
+
+
+\1 What noise? who calls on Hamlet?
+ O, here they come.
+
+ \(Enter \10 and \11\)
+
+\10 What have you done, my lord, with the dead body?
+
+\1 Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin.
+
+\10 Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence
+ And bear it to the chapel.
+
+\1 Do not believe it.
+
+\10 Believe what?
+
+\1 That I can keep your counsel and not mine own.
+ Besides, to be demanded of a sponge! what
+ replication should be made by the son of a king?
+
+\10 Take you me for a sponge, my lord?
+
+\1 Ay, sir, that soaks up the king's countenance, his
+ rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the
+ king best service in the end: he keeps them, like
+ an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouthed, to
+ be last swallowed: when he needs what you have
+ gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you
+ shall be dry again.
+
+\10 I understand you not, my lord.
+
+\1 I am glad of it: a knavish speech sleeps in a
+ foolish ear.
+
+\10 My lord, you must tell us where the body is, and go
+ with us to the king.
+
+\1 The body is with the king, but the king is not with
+ the body. The king is a thing---
+
+\11 A thing, my lord!
+
+\1 Of nothing: bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after. \[r]exeunt\]
+
+\endProsa
+
+\Scene {Another room in the castle}
+
+
+ \(Enter \2, attended\)
+
+\2 I have sent to seek him, and to find the body.
+ How dangerous is it that this man goes loose!
+ Yet must not we put the strong law on him:
+ He's loved of the distracted multitude,
+ Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes;
+ And where tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd,
+ But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even,
+ This sudden sending him away must seem
+ Deliberate pause: diseases desperate grown
+ By desperate appliance are relieved,
+ Or not at all. \\
+
+ \(Enter \10\)
+
+ How now! what hath befall'n?
+
+\10 Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord,
+ We cannot get from him. \\
+
+\2 But where is he?
+
+\10 Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure.
+
+\2 Bring him before us. \\
+
+\10 Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord.
+
+ \(Enter \1 and \11\)
+
+\2 Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?
+
+\Prosa
+
+\1 At supper.
+
+\2 At supper! where?
+
+\1 Not where he eats, but where he is eaten: a certain
+ convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your
+ worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all
+ creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for
+ maggots: your fat king and your lean beggar is but
+ variable service, two dishes, but to one table:
+ that's the end.
+
+\2 Alas, alas!
+
+\1 A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a
+ king, and cat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.
+
+\2 What dost you mean by this?
+
+\1 Nothing but to show you how a king may go a
+ progress through the guts of a beggar.
+
+\2 Where is Polonius?
+
+\1 In heaven; send hither to see: if your messenger
+ find him not there, seek him i' the other place
+ yourself. But indeed, if you find him not within
+ this month, you shall nose him as you go up the
+ stairs into the lobby.
+
+\2 Go seek him there. \[to some Attendants\]
+
+\1 He will stay till ye come. \[exeunt Attendants\]
+\endProsa
+
+\2 Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,---
+ Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve
+ For that which thou hast done,---must send thee hence
+ With fiery quickness: therefore prepare thyself;
+ The bark is ready, and the wind at help,
+ The associates tend, and every thing is bent
+ For England. \\
+
+\1 For England!
+
+\2 Ay, Hamlet. \\
+
+\1 Good.
+
+\2 So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes.
+
+\Prosa
+\1 I see a cherub that sees them. But, come; for
+ England! Farewell, dear mother.
+
+\2 Thy loving father, Hamlet.
+
+\1 My mother: father and mother is man and wife; man
+ and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England!
+ \[exit\]
+\endProsa
+
+\2 Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard;
+ Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night:
+ Away! for every thing is seal'd and done
+ That else leans on the affair: pray you, make haste.
+ \[Exeunt \10 and \11\]
+ And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught---
+ As my great power thereof may give thee sense,
+ Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red
+ After the Danish sword, and thy free awe
+ Pays homage to us---thou mayst not coldly set
+ Our sovereign process; which imports at full,
+ By letters congruing to that effect,
+ The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England;
+ For like the hectic in my blood he rages,
+ And thou must cure me: till I know 'tis done,
+ Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun. \[r]exit\]
+
+
+\Scene {A plain in Denmark}
+
+ \(Enter \17, a Captain, and Soldiers, marching\)
+
+\17 Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king;
+ Tell him that, by his licence, Fortinbras
+ Craves the conveyance of a promised march
+ Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous.
+ If that his majesty would aught with us,
+ We shall express our duty in his eye;
+ And let him know so. \\
+
+\persona{Captain} I will do't, my lord.
+
+\17 Go softly on.
+ \[Exeunt \17 and Soldiers\]
+
+ \(c)Enter \1, \10, \11,\\ and others\)
+
+\1 Good sir, whose powers are these?
+
+\persona{Captain} They are of Norway, sir.
+
+\1 How purposed, sir, I pray you?
+
+\persona{Captain} Against some part of Poland.
+
+\1 Who commands them, sir?
+
+\persona{Captain} The nephews to old Norway, Fortinbras.
+
+\1 Goes it against the main of Poland, sir,
+ Or for some frontier?
+
+\persona{Captain} Truly to speak, and with no addition,
+ We go to gain a little patch of ground
+ That hath in it no profit but the name.
+ To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it;
+ Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole
+ A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.
+
+\1 Why, then the Polack never will defend it.
+
+\persona{Captain} Yes, it is already garrison'd.
+
+\1 Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats
+ Will not debate the question of this straw:
+ This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace,
+ That inward breaks, and shows no cause without
+ Why the man dies. I humbly thank you, sir.
+
+\persona{Captain} God be wi' you, sir. \\ \[r]exit\]
+
+\10 Wilt please you go, my lord?
+
+\1 I'll be with you straight go a little before. \[r]exeunt all except \1\]
+ How all occasions do inform against me,
+ And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
+ If his chief good and market of his time
+ Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
+ Sure, he that made us with such large discourse,
+ Looking before and after, gave us not
+ That capability and god-like reason
+ To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be
+ Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
+ Of thinking too precisely on the event,
+ A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom
+ And ever three parts coward, I do not know
+ Why yet I live to say `This thing's to do;'
+ Sith I have cause and will and strength and means
+ To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me:
+ Witness this army of such mass and charge
+ Led by a delicate and tender prince,
+ Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd
+ Makes mouths at the invisible event,
+ Exposing what is mortal and unsure
+ To all that fortune, death and danger dare,
+ Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great
+ Is not to stir without great argument,
+ But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
+ When honour's at the stake. How stand I then,
+ That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
+ Excitements of my reason and my blood,
+ And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see
+ The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
+ That, for a fantasy and trick of fame,
+ Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot
+ Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
+ Which is not tomb enough and continent
+ To hide the slain? O, from this time forth,
+ My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! \[r]exit\]
+
+\Scene {Elsinore. A room in the castle}
+
+ \(Enter \3, \6, and a Gentleman\)
+
+\3 I will not speak with her.
+
+\persona{Gentleman} She is importunate, indeed distract:
+ Her mood will needs be pitied. \\
+
+\3 What would she have?
+
+\persona{Gentleman} She speaks much of her father; says she hears
+ There's tricks i' the world; and hems, and beats her heart;
+ Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,
+ That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing,
+ Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
+ The hearers to collection; they aim at it,
+ And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts;
+ Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures
+ yield them,
+ Indeed would make one think there might be thought,
+ Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
+
+\6 'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew
+ Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
+
+\3 Let her come in. \[r]exit the Gentleman\]
+ To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,
+ Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss:
+ So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
+ It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
+
+ \(Re-enter \6, with \4\)
+
+\4 Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
+
+\3 How now, Ophelia!
+\begin{song} [+1]
+\4 \[p]sings\] How should I your true love know
+ From another one?
+ By his cockle hat and staff,
+ And his sandal shoon.
+\end{song}
+
+\3 Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
+
+\4 Say you? nay, pray you, mark.
+\begin{song} [+1]
+\[el]sings\] He is dead and gone, lady,
+ He is dead and gone;
+ At his head a grass-green turf,
+ At his heels a stone.
+\end{song}
+
+\3 Nay, but, Ophelia,--- \\
+
+\4 Pray you, mark.
+\begin{song}[-2]
+ \[el]sings\] White his shroud as the mountain snow,---
+\end{song}
+
+ \(Enter \2\)
+
+\3 Alas, look here, my lord.
+
+\begin{song} [+1.25]
+\4 \[sings\] Larded with sweet flowers
+ Which bewept to the grave did go
+ With true-love showers.
+\end{song}
+
+\Prosa
+
+\2 How do you, pretty lady?
+
+\4 Well, God 'ild you! They say the owl was a baker's
+ daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not
+ what we may be. God be at your table!
+
+\2 Conceit upon her father.
+
+\4 Pray you, let's have no words of this; but when they
+ ask you what it means, say you this:
+
+\begin{song}[-2]
+ \[le]sings\] To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,
+ All in the morning betime,
+ And I a maid at your window,
+ To be your Valentine.
+ Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes,
+ And dupp'd the chamber-door;
+ Let in the maid, that out a maid
+ Never departed more.
+\end{song}
+
+\2 Pretty Ophelia!
+
+\4 Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't:
+
+\begin{song}[-2]
+ \[le]sings\] By Gis and by Saint Charity,
+ Alack, and fie for shame!
+ Young men will do't, if they come to't;
+ By cock, they are to blame.
+ Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
+ You promised me to wed.
+ So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
+ An thou hadst not come to my bed.
+\end{song}
+
+\2 How long hath she been thus?
+
+\4 I hope all will be well. We must be patient: but I
+ cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him
+ i' the cold ground. My brother shall know of it:
+ and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my
+ coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies;
+ good night, good night.
+
+ \[Exit\]
+
+\endProsa
+
+\2 Follow her close; give her good watch,
+ I pray you.
+
+ \[Exit \6\]
+
+ O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
+ All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude,
+ When sorrows come, they come not single spies
+ But in battalions. First, her father slain:
+ Next, your son gone; and he most violent author
+ Of his own just remove: the people muddied,
+ Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers,
+ For good Polonius' death; and we have done but greenly,
+ In hugger-mugger to inter him: poor Ophelia
+ Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
+ Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts:
+ Last, and as much containing as all these,
+ Her brother is in secret come from France;
+ Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
+ And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
+ With pestilent speeches of his father's death;
+ Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd,
+ Will nothing stick our person to arraign
+ In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
+ Like to a murdering-piece, in many places
+ Gives me superfluous death.
+
+ \(A noise within\)
+
+\3 Alack, what noise is this?
+
+\2 Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door.
+
+ \(Enter another Gentleman\)
+
+ What is the matter?
+
+\persona{Gentleman} Save yourself, my lord:
+ The ocean, overpeering of his list,
+ Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste
+ Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
+ O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him lord;
+ And, as the world were now but to begin,
+ Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
+ The ratifiers and props of every word,
+ They cry `Choose we: Laertes shall be king:'
+ Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds:
+ `Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!'
+
+\3 How cheerfully on the false trail they cry!
+ O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!
+
+\2 The doors are broke.
+
+ \(i)Noise within\)
+ \(s)Enter \7, armed; Danes following\)
+
+\7 Where is this king? Sirs, stand you all without.
+
+\persona{Danes} No, let's come in.
+
+\7 I pray you, give me leave.
+
+\persona{Danes} We will, we will.
+
+ \(They retire without the door\)
+
+\7 I thank you: keep the door. O thou vile king,
+ Give me my father!
+
+\3 Calmly, good Laertes.
+
+\7 That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard,
+ Cries cuckold to my father, brands the harlot
+ Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow
+ Of my true mother.
+
+\2 What is the cause, Laertes,
+ That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?
+ Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person:
+ There's such divinity doth hedge a king,
+ That treason can but peep to what it would,
+ Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes,
+ Why thou art thus incensed. Let him go, Gertrude.
+ Speak, man.
+
+\7 Where is my father?
+
+\2 Dead.
+
+\3 But not by him.
+
+\2 Let him demand his fill.
+
+\7 How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with:
+ To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil!
+ Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!
+ I dare damnation. To this point I stand,
+ That both the worlds I give to negligence,
+ Let come what comes; only I'll be revenged
+ Most thoroughly for my father.
+
+\2 Who shall stay you?
+
+\7 My will, not all the world:
+ And for my means, I'll husband them so well,
+ They shall go far with little.
+
+\2 Good Laertes,
+ If you desire to know the certainty
+ Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge,
+ That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend and foe,
+ Winner and loser?
+
+\7 None but his enemies.
+
+\2 Will you know them then?
+
+\7 To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms;
+ And like the kind life-rendering pelican,
+ Repast them with my blood.
+
+\2 Why, now you speak
+ Like a good child and a true gentleman.
+ That I am guiltless of your father's death,
+ And am most sensible in grief for it,
+ It shall as level to your judgment pierce
+ As day does to your eye.
+
+\persona{Danes} \[Within\] Let her come in.
+
+\7 How now! what noise is that?
+
+ \(Re-enter \4\)
+
+ O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt,
+ Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
+ By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight,
+ Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May!
+ Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
+ O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits
+ Should be as moral as an old man's life?
+ Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine,
+ It sends some precious instance of itself
+ After the thing it loves.
+
+\4 \[sings\]
+\begin{song}[-3]
+ They bore him barefaced on the bier;
+ Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny;
+ And in his grave rain'd many a tear:---
+ Fare you well, my dove!
+\end{song}
+
+\7 Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
+ It could not move thus.
+
+\Prosa
+\4 You must sing a-down a-down,
+ An you call him a-down-a.
+ O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false
+ steward, that stole his master's daughter.
+
+\7 This nothing's more than matter.
+
+\4 \DriveOut* There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray,
+ love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts.
+
+\7 A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.
+
+\4 There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue
+ for you; and here's some for me: we may call it
+ herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with
+ a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you
+ some violets, but they withered all when my father
+ died: they say he made a good end,---
+
+\begin{song}[-3]
+ \[el]sings\] For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.
+\end{song}
+
+\7 Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
+ She turns to favour and to prettiness.
+
+\begin{song}[1.25] \Forma \strophae {}
+\4 \[sings\] And will he not come again?
+ And will he not come again?
+ \\No, no, he is dead:
+ \\Go to thy death-bed:
+ He never will come again.
+ \spatium {.5ex}
+ His beard was as white as snow,
+ All flaxen was his poll:
+ \\He is gone, he is gone,
+ \\And we cast away moan:
+ God ha' mercy on his soul!
+\end{song}
+
+ And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye. \[r]exit\]
+
+\endProsa
+
+\7 Do you see this, O God?
+
+\2 Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
+ Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
+ Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will.
+ And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me:
+ If by direct or by collateral hand
+ They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give,
+ Our crown, our life, and all that we can ours,
+ To you in satisfaction; but if not,
+ Be you content to lend your patience to us,
+ And we shall jointly labour with your soul
+ To give it due content.
+
+\7 Let this be so;
+ His means of death, his obscure funeral---
+ No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,
+ No noble rite nor formal ostentation---
+ Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth,
+ That I must call't in question.
+
+\2 So you shall;
+ And where the offence is let the great axe fall.
+ I pray you, go with me. \[r]exeunt\]
+
+
+\Scene {Another room in the castle}
+
+ \(Enter \6 and a Servant\)
+
+\Prosa
+
+\6 What are they that would speak with me?
+
+\persona{Servant} Sailors, sir: they say they have letters for you.
+
+\6 Let them come in.
+
+ \[Exit Servant\]
+
+ I do not know from what part of the world
+ I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet.
+
+ \(Enter Sailors\)
+
+\persona{First Sailor} God bless you, sir.
+
+\6 Let him bless thee too.
+
+\persona{First Sailor} He shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for
+ you, sir; it comes from the ambassador that was
+ bound for England; if your name be Horatio, as I am
+ let to know it is.
+
+\6 \[Reads\] `Horatio, when thou shalt have overlooked
+ this, give these fellows some means to the king:
+ they have letters for him. Ere we were two days old
+ at sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment gave us
+ chase. Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on
+ a compelled valour, and in the grapple I boarded
+ them: on the instant they got clear of our ship; so
+ I alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with
+ me like thieves of mercy: but they knew what they
+ did; I am to do a good turn for them. Let the king
+ have the letters I have sent; and repair thou to me
+ with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. I
+ have words to speak in thine ear will make thee
+ dumb; yet are they much too light for the bore of
+ the matter. These good fellows will bring thee
+ where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their
+ course for England: of them I have much to tell
+ thee. Farewell.
+ He that thou knowest thine, Hamlet.'
+ Come, I will make you way for these your letters;
+ And do't the speedier, that you may direct me
+ To him from whom you brought them.
+
+ \[Exeunt\]
+
+\endProsa
+
+\Scene {Another room in the castle}
+
+ \(Enter \2 and \7\)
+
+\2 Now must your conscience my acquaintance seal,
+ And you must put me in your heart for friend,
+ Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear,
+ That he which hath your noble father slain
+ Pursued my life. \\
+
+\7 It well appears: but tell me
+ Why you proceeded not against these feats,
+ So crimeful and so capital in nature,
+ As by your safety, wisdom, all things else,
+ You mainly were stirr'd up. \\
+
+\2 O, for two special reasons;
+ Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd,
+ But yet to me they are strong. The queen his mother
+ Lives almost by his looks; and for myself---
+ My virtue or my plague, be it either which---
+ She's so conjunctive to my life and soul,
+ That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
+ I could not but by her. The other motive,
+ Why to a public count I might not go,
+ Is the great love the general gender bear him;
+ Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
+ Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone,
+ Convert his gyves to graces; so that my arrows,
+ Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind,
+ Would have reverted to my bow again,
+ And not where I had aim'd them.
+
+\7 And so have I a noble father lost;
+ A sister driven into desperate terms,
+ Whose worth, if praises may go back again,
+ Stood challenger on mount of all the age
+ For her perfections: but my revenge will come.
+
+\2 Break not your sleeps for that: you must not think
+ That we are made of stuff so flat and dull
+ That we can let our beard be shook with danger
+ And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more:
+ I loved your father, and we love ourself;
+ And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine---
+
+ \(Enter a Messenger\)
+
+ How now! what news? \\
+
+\persona{Messenger} Letters, my lord, from Hamlet:
+ This to your majesty; this to the queen.
+
+\2 From Hamlet! who brought them?
+
+\persona{Messenger} Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not:
+ They were given me by Claudio; he received them
+ Of him that brought them. \\
+
+\2 Laertes, you shall hear them.
+ Leave us. \[r]Exit Messenger\]
+
+\Prosa
+ \[e]Reads\] `High and mighty, You shall know I am set naked on
+ your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see
+ your kingly eyes: when I shall, first asking your
+ pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my sudden
+ and more strange return. Hamlet.'
+\endProsa
+
+ What should this mean? Are all the rest come back?
+ Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?
+
+\7 Know you the hand? \\
+
+\2 'Tis Hamlets character. `Naked!'
+ And in a postscript here, he says `alone.'
+ Can you advise me?
+
+\7 I'm lost in it, my lord. But let him come;
+ It warms the very sickness in my heart,
+ That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
+ `Thus diest thou.' \\
+
+\2 If it be so, Laertes---
+ As how should it be so? how otherwise?---
+ Will you be ruled by me? \\
+
+\7 Ay, my lord;
+ So you will not o'errule me to a peace.
+
+\2 To thine own peace. If he be now return'd,
+ As checking at his voyage, and that he means
+ No more to undertake it, I will work him
+ To an exploit, now ripe in my device,
+ Under the which he shall not choose but fall:
+ And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe,
+ But even his mother shall uncharge the practise
+ And call it accident. \\
+
+\7 My lord, I will be ruled;
+ The rather, if you could devise it so
+ That I might be the organ. \\
+
+\2 It falls right.
+ You have been talk'd of since your travel much,
+ And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality
+ Wherein, they say, you shine: your sum of parts
+ Did not together pluck such envy from him
+ As did that one, and that, in my regard,
+ Of the unworthiest siege. \\
+
+\7 What part is that, my lord?
+
+\2 A very riband in the cap of youth,
+ Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes
+ The light and careless livery that it wears
+ Than settled age his sables and his weeds,
+ Importing health and graveness. Two months since,
+ Here was a gentleman of Normandy:---
+ I've seen myself, and served against, the French,
+ And they can well on horseback: but this gallant
+ Had witchcraft in't; he grew unto his seat;
+ And to such wondrous doing brought his horse,
+ As he had been incorpsed and demi-natured
+ With the brave beast: so far he topp'd my thought,
+ That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks,
+ Come short of what he did. \\
+
+\7 A Norman was't?
+
+\2 A Norman.
+
+\7 Upon my life, Lamord. \\
+
+\2 The very same.
+
+\7 I know him well: he is the brooch indeed
+ And gem of all the nation.
+
+\2 He made confession of you,
+ And gave you such a masterly report
+ For art and exercise in your defence
+ And for your rapier most especially,
+ That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed,
+ If one could match you: the scrimers of their nation,
+ He swore, had had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
+ If you opposed them. Sir, this report of his
+ Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy
+ That he could nothing do but wish and beg
+ Your sudden coming o'er, to play with him.
+ Now, out of this,--- \\
+
+\7 What out of this, my lord?
+
+\2 Laertes, was your father dear to you?
+ Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
+ A face without a heart? \\
+
+\7 Why ask you this?
+
+\2 Not that I think you did not love your father;
+ But that I know love is begun by time;
+ And that I see, in passages of proof,
+ Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
+ There lives within the very flame of love
+ A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it;
+ And nothing is at a like goodness still;
+ For goodness, growing to a plurisy,
+ Dies in his own too much: that we would do
+ We should do when we would; for this `would' changes
+ And hath abatements and delays as many
+ As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
+ And then this `should' is like a spendthrift sigh,
+ That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o' the ulcer:---
+ Hamlet comes back: what would you undertake,
+ To show yourself your father's son in deed
+ More than in words? \\
+
+\7 To cut his throat i' the church.
+
+\2 No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize;
+ Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes,
+ Will you do this, keep close within your chamber.
+ Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home:
+ We'll put on those shall praise your excellence
+ And set a double varnish on the fame
+ The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together
+ And wager on your heads: he, being remiss,
+ Most generous and free from all contriving,
+ Will not peruse the foils; so that, with ease,
+ Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
+ A sword unbated, and in a pass of practise
+ Requite him for your father. \\
+
+\7 I will do't:
+ And, for that purpose, I'll anoint my sword.
+ I bought an unction of a mountebank,
+ So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
+ Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare,
+ Collected from all simples that have virtue
+ Under the moon, can save the thing from death
+ That is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point
+ With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
+ It may be death. \\
+
+\2 Let's further think of this;
+ Weigh what convenience both of time and means
+ May fit us to our shape: if this should fail,
+ And that our drift look through our bad performance,
+ 'Twere better not assay'd: therefore this project
+ Should have a back or second, that might hold,
+ If this should blast in proof. Soft! let me see:
+ We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings:
+ I ha't.
+ When in your motion you are hot and dry---
+ As make your bouts more violent to that end---
+ And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepared him
+ A chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping,
+ If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,
+ Our purpose may hold there.
+
+ \(Enter \3\)
+
+\3 One woe doth tread upon another's heel,
+ So fast they follow; your sister's drown'd, Laertes.
+
+\7 Drown'd! O, where?
+
+\3 There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
+ That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
+ There with fantastic garlands did she come
+ Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples
+ That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
+ But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them:
+ There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
+ Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
+ When down her weedy trophies and herself
+ Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
+ And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:
+ Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;
+ As one incapable of her own distress,
+ Or like a creature native and indued
+ Unto that element: but long it could not be
+ Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
+ Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
+ To muddy death. \\
+
+\7 Alas, then, she is drown'd?
+
+\3 Drown'd, drown'd.
+
+\7 Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,
+ And therefore I forbid my tears: but yet
+ It is our trick; nature her custom holds,
+ Let shame say what it will: when these are gone,
+ The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord:
+ I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze,
+ But that this folly douts it. \\ \[r]exit\]
+
+\2 Let's follow, Gertrude:
+ How much I had to do to calm his rage!
+ Now fear I this will give it start again;
+ Therefore let's follow. \[r]exeunt\]
+
+\Act %5
+
+\Scene {A graveyard, with a newly opened grave}
+
+ \(Enter two Clowns, with spades, \&c\)
+
+\Prosa
+
+\01 Is she to be buried in Christian burial that
+ wilfully seeks her own salvation?
+
+\02 I tell thee she is: and therefore make her grave
+ straight: the crowner hath sat on her, and finds it
+ Christian burial.
+
+\01 How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her
+ own defence?
+
+\02 Why, 'tis found so.
+
+\01 It must be `se offendendo;' it cannot be else. For
+ here lies the point: if I drown myself wittingly,
+ it argues an act: and an act hath three branches: it
+ is, to act, to do, to perform: argal, she drowned
+ herself wittingly.
+
+\02 Nay, but hear you, goodman delver,---
+
+\01 Give me leave. Here lies the water; good: here
+ stands the man; good; if the man go to this water,
+ and drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he
+ goes,---mark you that; but if the water come to him
+ and drown him, he drowns not himself: argal, he
+ that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life.
+
+\02 But is this law?
+
+\01 Ay, marry, is't; crowner's quest law.
+
+\02 Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been
+ a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o'
+ Christian burial.
+
+\01 Why, there thou say'st: and the more pity that
+ great folk should have countenance in this world to
+ drown or hang themselves, more than their even
+ Christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient
+ gentleman but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers:
+ they hold up Adam's profession.
+ \[r]he goes down into the open grave\]
+\02 Was he a gentleman?
+
+\01 He was the first that ever bore arms.
+
+\02 Why, he had none.
+
+\01 What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the
+ Scripture? The Scripture says `Adam digged:'
+ could he dig without arms? I'll put another
+ question to thee: if thou answerest me not to the
+ purpose, confess thyself---
+
+\02 Go to.
+
+\01 What is he that builds stronger than either the
+ mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?
+
+\02 The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a
+ thousand tenants.
+
+\01 I like thy wit well, in good faith: the gallows
+ does well; but how does it well? it does well to
+ those that do in: now thou dost ill to say the
+ gallows is built stronger than the church: argal,
+ the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come.
+
+\02 `Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or
+ a carpenter?'
+
+\01 Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.
+
+\02 Marry, now I can tell.
+
+\01 To't.
+
+\02 Mass, I cannot tell.
+
+
+\01 Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull
+ ass will not mend his pace with beating; and, when
+ you are asked this question next, say 'a
+ grave-maker: the houses that he makes last till
+ doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan: fetch me a
+ stoup of liquor. \[r]Exit \02\]
+
+ \(\1 and \6 are seen entering the graveyard\)
+
+ \(s)\01 digs and sings\)
+\begin{song}[-4]
+ In youth, when I did love, did love,
+ Methought it was very sweet,
+ To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove,
+ O, methought, there was nothing meet.
+\end{song}
+
+\1 Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he
+ sings at grave-making?
+
+\6 Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.
+
+\1 'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath
+ the daintier sense.
+
+\01 \[sings\]
+\begin{song}[-4]
+ But age, with his stealing steps,
+ Hath claw'd me in his clutch,
+ And hath shipped me intil the land,
+ As if I had never been such.
+\end{song}
+ \[r]he throws up a skull\]
+
+\1 That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once:
+ how the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were
+ Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! It
+ might be the pate of a politician, which this ass
+ now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent God,
+ might it not?
+
+\6 It might, my lord.
+
+\1 Or of a courtier; which could say `Good morrow,
+ sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord?' This might
+ be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord
+ such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not?
+
+\6 Ay, my lord.
+
+\1 Why, e'en so: and now my Lady Worm's; chapless, and
+ knocked about the mazzard with a sexton's spade:
+ here's fine revolution, an we had the trick to
+ see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding,
+ but to play at loggats with 'em? mine ache to think on't.
+
+\01 \[sings\]
+\begin{song}[-4]
+ A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade,
+ For and a shrouding sheet:
+ O, a pit of clay for to be made
+ For such a guest is meet.
+\end{song}
+ \[r]he throws up another skull\]
+
+\1 There's another: why may not that be the skull of a
+ lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets,
+ his cases, his ten\-ures, and his tricks? why does he
+ suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the
+ sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of
+ his action of battery? \[he takes up the skull\] Hum!
+ This fellow might be
+ in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes,
+ his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers,
+ his recoveries: is this the fine of his fines, and
+ the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine
+ pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him
+ no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than
+ the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The
+ very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in
+ this box, \[he taps the skull\] and must the inheritor
+ himself have no more, ha?
+
+\6 Not a jot more, my lord.
+
+\1 Is not parchment made of sheepskins?
+
+\6 Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too.
+
+\1 They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance
+ in that. I will speak to this fellow. Whose
+ grave's this, sirrah?
+
+\01 Mine, sir.
+\begin{song}[-3]
+ \[le]sings\] O, a pit of clay for to be made
+ For such a guest is meet.
+\end{song}
+
+\1 I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.
+
+\01 You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not
+ yours: for my part, I do not lie in't, and yet it is mine.
+
+\1 Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine:
+ 'tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest.
+
+\01 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away gain, from me to
+ you.
+
+\1 What man dost thou dig it for?
+
+\01 For no man, sir.
+
+\1 What woman, then?
+
+\01 For none, neither.
+
+\1 Who is to be buried in't?
+
+\01 One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.
+
+\1 How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the
+ card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord,
+ Horatio, these three years I have taken a note of
+ it; the age is grown so picked that the toe of the
+ peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he
+ gaffs his kibe. How long hast thou been a
+ grave-maker?
+
+\01 Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that day
+ that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.
+
+\1 How long is that since?
+
+\01 Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: it
+ was the very day that young Hamlet was born; he that
+ is mad, and sent into England.
+
+\1 Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?
+
+\01 Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits
+ there; or, if he do not, it's no great matter there.
+
+\1 Why?
+
+\01 'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men
+ are as mad as he.
+
+\1 How came he mad?
+
+\01 Very strangely, they say.
+
+\1 How strangely?
+
+\01 Faith, e'en with losing his wits.
+
+\1 Upon what ground?
+
+\01 Why, here in Denmark: I have been sexton here, man
+ and boy, thirty years.
+
+\1 How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot?
+
+\01 I' faith, if he be not rotten before he die---as we
+ have many pocky corses now-a-days, that will scarce
+ hold the laying in---he will last you some eight year
+ or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year.
+
+\1 Why he more than another?
+
+\01 Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade, that
+ he will keep out water a great while; and your water
+ is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body.
+ Here's a skull now; this skull has lain in the earth
+ three and twenty years.
+
+\1 Whose was it?
+
+\01 A whoreson mad fellow's it was: whose do you think it was?
+
+\1 Nay, I know not.
+
+\01 A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! a' poured a
+ flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull,
+ sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester.
+
+\1 This?
+
+\01 E'en that.
+
+\1 \DriveOut* Let me see. \[he takes the skull\]
+ Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow
+ of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
+ borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how
+ abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at
+ it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know
+ not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your
+ gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,
+ that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one
+ now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?
+ Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let
+ her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must
+ come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell
+ me one thing.
+
+\6 What's that, my lord?
+
+\1 Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i'
+ the earth?
+
+\6 E'en so.
+
+\1 And smelt so? pah! \[r]he puts down the skull\]
+
+\6 E'en so, my lord.
+
+\1 To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may
+ not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander,
+ till he find it stopping a bung-hole?
+
+\6 'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.
+
+\1 No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with
+ modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: as
+ thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried,
+ Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of
+ earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he
+ was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel?
+\endProsa
+
+\begin {song}[-4]
+ Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,
+ Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:
+ O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
+ Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw!
+\end{song}
+ But soft! but soft! aside: here comes the king.
+ The queen, the courtiers:\\
+
+ \(c)Enter Priest, \&c. in procession; the Corpse of
+ Ophelia,\\ \7 and Mourners following;\\ \2, \3, their trains, \&c\)
+
+ who is this they follow?
+ And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken
+ The corse they follow did with desperate hand
+ Fordo its own life: 'twas of some estate.
+ Couch we awhile, and mark. \[r]Retiring with \6\]
+
+\7 What ceremony else? \\
+
+\1 That is Laertes,
+ A very noble youth: mark.
+
+\7 What ceremony else?
+
+\persona{First Priest} Her obsequies have been as far enlarged
+ As we have warrantise: her death was doubtful;
+ And, but that great command o'ersways the order,
+ She should in ground unsanctified have lodged
+ Till the last trumpet: for charitable prayers,
+ Shards, flints and pebbles should be thrown on her;
+ Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants,
+ Her maiden strewments and the bringing home
+ Of bell and burial. \\[ial.]
+
+\7 Must there no more be done? \\
+
+\persona{First Priest} No more be done:
+ We should profane the service of the dead
+ To sing a requiem and such rest to her
+ As to peace-parted souls.\\
+
+\7 Lay her i' the earth:
+ And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
+ May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest,
+ A ministering angel shall my sister be,
+ When thou liest howling. \\
+
+\1 What, the fair Ophelia!
+
+\3 \[scattering flowers\] Sweets to the sweet: farewell!
+ I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife;
+ I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,
+ And not have strew'd thy grave. \\
+
+\7 O, treble woe
+ Fall ten times treble on that cursed head,
+ Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
+ Deprived thee of! Hold off the earth awhile,
+ Till I have caught her once more in mine arms:
+ \[r]Leaps into the grave\]
+ Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead,
+ Till of this flat a mountain you have made,
+ To o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head
+ Of blue Olympus. \\
+
+\1 \[advancing\] What is he whose grief
+ Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow
+ Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand
+ Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,
+ Hamlet the Dane. \\ \[r]Leaps into the grave\]
+
+\7 \[grappling with him\] The devil take thy soul!
+
+\1 Thou pray'st not well.
+ I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat;
+ For, though I am not splenitive and rash,
+ Yet have I something in me dangerous,
+ Which let thy wiseness fear: hold off thy hand.
+
+\2 Pluck them asunder.\\
+
+\3 Hamlet, Hamlet!
+
+\persona{All} Gentlemen,--- \\
+
+\6 Good my lord, be quiet.
+
+ \(The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave\)
+
+\1 Why I will fight with him upon this theme
+ Until my eyelids will no longer wag.
+
+\3 O my son, what theme?
+
+\1 I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers
+ Could not, with all their quantity of love,
+ Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?
+
+\2 O, he is mad, Laertes.
+
+\3 For love of God, forbear him.
+
+\1 'Swounds, show me what thou'lt do:
+ Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself?
+ Woo't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile?
+ I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine?
+ To outface me with leaping in her grave?
+ Be buried quick with her, and so will I:
+ And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
+ Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
+ Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
+ Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
+ I'll rant as well as thou. \\
+
+\3 This is mere madness:
+ And thus awhile the fit will work on him;
+ Anon, as patient as the female dove,
+ When that her golden couplets are disclosed,
+ His silence will sit drooping. \\
+
+\1 Hear you, sir;
+ What is the reason that you use me thus?
+ I loved you ever: but it is no matter;
+ Let Hercules himself do what he may,
+ The cat will mew and dog will have his day. \[r]Exit\]
+
+\2 I pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him. \[r]Exit \6\]
+
+ \[e]to \7\] Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech;
+ We'll put the matter to the present push.
+ Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.
+ This grave shall have a living monument:
+ An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;
+ Till then, in patience our proceeding be. \[r]Exeunt\]
+
+\Scene {A hall in the castle}
+
+ \[Enter \1 and \6\]
+
+\1 So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other;
+ You do remember all the circumstance?
+
+\6 Remember it, my lord?
+
+\1 Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting,
+ That would not let me sleep: methought I lay
+ Worse than the mutines in the bilboes. Rashly,
+ And praised be rashness for it, let us know,
+ Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,
+ When our deep plots do pall: and that should teach us
+ There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
+ Rough-hew them how we will,--- \\
+
+\6 That is most certain.
+
+\1 Up from my cabin,
+ My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark
+ Groped I to find out them; had my desire.
+ Finger'd their packet, and in fine withdrew
+ To mine own room again; making so bold,
+ My fears forgetting manners, to unseal
+ Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,---
+ O royal knavery!---an exact command,
+ Larded with many several sorts of reasons
+ Importing Denmark's health and England's too,
+ With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life,
+ That, on the supervise, no leisure bated,
+ No, not to stay the grinding of the axe,
+ My head should be struck off. \\
+
+\6 Is't possible?
+
+\1 Here's the commission: read it at more leisure.
+ But wilt thou hear me how I did proceed?
+
+\6 I beseech you.
+
+\1 Being thus be-netted round with villanies,---
+ Ere I could make a prologue to my brains,
+ They had begun the play---I sat me down,
+ Devised a new commission, wrote it fair:
+ I once did hold it, as our statists do,
+ A baseness to write fair and labour'd much
+ How to forget that learning, but, sir, now
+ It did me yeoman's service: wilt thou know
+ The effect of what I wrote? \\
+
+\6 Ay, good my lord.
+
+\1 An earnest conjuration from the king,
+ As England was his faithful tributary,
+ As love between them like the palm might flourish,
+ As peace should stiff her wheaten garland wear
+ And stand a comma 'tween their amities,
+ And many such-like `As'es of great charge,
+ That, on the view and knowing of these contents,
+ Without debatement further, more or less,
+ He should the bearers put to sudden death,
+ Not shriving-time allow'd. \\
+
+\6 How was this seal'd?
+
+\1 Why, even in that was heaven ordinant.
+ I had my father's signet in my purse,
+ Which was the model of that Danish seal;
+ Folded the writ up in form of the other,
+ Subscribed it, gave't the impression, placed it safely,
+ The changeling never known. Now, the next day
+ Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent
+ Thou know'st already.
+
+\6 So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't.
+
+\1 Why, man, they did make love to this employment;
+ They are not near my conscience; their defeat
+ Does by their own insinuation grow:
+ 'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes
+ Between the pass and fell incensed points
+ Of mighty opposites. \\
+
+\6 Why, what a king is this!
+
+\1 Does it not, think'st thee, stand me now upon---
+ He that hath kill'd my king and whored my mother,
+ Popp'd in between the election and my hopes,
+ Thrown out his angle for my proper life,
+ And with such cozenage---is't not perfect conscience,
+ To quit him with this arm? and is't not to be damn'd,
+ To let this canker of our nature come
+ In further evil?
+
+\6 It must be shortly known to him from England
+ What is the issue of the business there.
+
+\1 It will be short: the interim is mine;
+ And a man's life's no more than to say `One.'
+ But I am very sorry, good Horatio,
+ That to Laertes I forgot myself;
+ For, by the image of my cause, I see
+ The portraiture of his: I'll court his favours.
+ But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me
+ Into a towering passion. \\
+
+\6 Peace! who comes here?
+
+ \(Enter \12\)
+
+\Prosa
+
+\12 Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.
+
+\1 I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this water-fly?
+
+\6 No, my good lord.
+
+\1 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 king's mess: 'tis a chough; but, as I say,
+ spacious in the possession of dirt.
+
+\12 Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I
+ should impart a thing to you from his majesty.
+
+\1 I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of
+ spirit. Put your bonnet to his right use; 'tis for the head.
+
+\12 I thank your lordship, it is very hot.
+
+\1 No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is
+ northerly.
+
+\12 It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.
+
+\1 But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my
+ complexion.
+
+\12 \DriveOut* Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry, ---as
+ 'twere,--- I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his
+ majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a
+ great wager on your head: sir, this is the matter, ---
+
+\1 \[moves him to put on his hat\] I beseech you, re\-mem\-ber---
+
+\12 Nay, good my lord; for mine ease, in good faith.
+ Sir, here is newly come to court Laertes; believe
+ me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent
+ differences, of very soft society and great showing:
+ indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card or
+ calendar of gentry, for you shall find in him the
+ continent of what part a gentleman would see.
+
+\1 Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you;
+ though, I know, to divide him inventorially would
+ dizzy the arithmetic of memory, and yet but yaw
+ neither, in respect of his quick sail. But, in the
+ verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of
+ great article; and his infusion of such dearth and
+ rareness, as, to make true diction of him, his
+ semblable is his mirror; and who else would trace
+ him, his umbrage, nothing more.
+
+\12 Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him.
+
+\1 The concernancy, sir? why do we wrap the gentleman
+ in our more rawer breath?
+
+\12 Sir?
+
+\6 Is't not possible to understand in another tongue?
+ You will do't, sir, really.
+
+\1 What imports the nomination of this gentleman?
+
+\12 Of Laertes?
+
+\6 His purse is empty already; all's golden words are spent.
+
+\1 Of him, sir.
+
+\12 I know you are not ignorant---
+
+\1 I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did,
+ it would not much approve me. Well, sir?
+
+\12 You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is---
+
+\1 I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with
+ him in excellence; but, to know a man well, were to
+ know himself.
+
+\12 I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation
+ laid on him by them, in his meed he's unfellowed.
+
+\1 What's his weapon?
+
+\12 Rapier and dagger.
+
+\1 That's two of his weapons: but, well.
+
+\12 The king, sir, hath wagered with him six Barbary
+ horses: against the which he has imponed, as I take
+ it, six French rapiers and poniards, with their
+ assigns, as girdle, hangers, and so: three of the
+ carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, very
+ responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages,
+ and of very liberal conceit.
+
+\1 What call you the carriages?
+
+\6 I knew you must be edified by the margent ere you had done.
+
+\12 The carriages, sir, are the hangers.
+
+\1 \DriveOut* The phrase would be more german to the matter, if we
+ could carry cannon by our sides: I would it might
+ be hangers till then. But, on: six Barbary horses
+ against six French swords, their assigns, and three
+ liberal-conceited carriages; that's the French bet
+ against the Danish. Why is this `imponed,' as you call it?
+
+\12 The king, sir, hath laid, that in a dozen passes
+ between yourself and him, he shall not exceed you
+ three hits: he hath laid on twelve for nine; and it
+ would come to immediate trial, if your lordship
+ would vouchsafe the answer.
+
+\1 How if I answer `no'?
+
+\12 I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial.
+
+\1 Sir, I will walk here in the hall: if it please his
+ majesty, 'tis the breathing time of day with me; let
+ the foils be brought, the gentleman willing, and the
+ king hold his purpose, I will win for him an I can;
+ if not, I will gain nothing but my shame and the odd hits.
+
+\12 Shall I re-deliver you e'en so?
+
+\1 To this effect, sir; after what flourish your nature will.
+
+\12 I commend my duty to your lordship.
+
+\1 Yours, yours. \[r]Exit \12\]
+
+ He does well to commend it himself; there are no
+ tongues else for's turn.
+
+\6 This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head.
+
+\1 He did comply with his dug, before he sucked it.
+ Thus has he---and many more of the same bevy that I
+ know the dressy age dotes on---only got the tune of
+ the time and outward habit of encounter; a kind of
+ yesty collection, which carries them through and
+ through the most fond and winnowed opinions; and do
+ but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are out.
+
+ \(Enter a Lord\)
+
+\persona{Lord} My lord, his majesty commended him to you by young
+ Osric, who brings back to him that you attend him in
+ the hall: he sends to know if your pleasure hold to
+ play with Laertes, or that you will take longer time.
+
+\1 I am constant to my purpose; they follow the king's
+ pleasure: if his fitness speaks, mine is ready; now
+ or whensoever, provided I be so able as now.
+
+\persona{Lord} The king and queen and all are coming down.
+
+\1 In happy time.
+
+\persona{Lord} The queen desires you to use some gentle
+ entertainment to Laertes before you fall to play.
+
+\1 She well instructs me. \[r]Exit Lord\]
+
+\6 You will lose this wager, my lord.
+
+\1 I do not think so: since he went into France, I
+ have been in continual practise: I shall win at the
+ odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here
+ about my heart: but it is no matter.
+
+\6 Nay, good my lord,---
+
+\1 It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of
+ gain-giving, as would perhaps trouble a woman.
+
+\6 If your mind dislike any thing, obey it: I will
+ forestall their repair hither, and say you are not
+ fit.
+
+\1 Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special
+ providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now,
+ 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be
+ now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the
+ readiness is all: since no man has aught of what he
+ leaves, what is't to leave betimes?
+
+\endProsa
+
+ \(c)Enter \2, \3, \7,\\
+ Lords, \12, and Attendants with foils, \&c\)
+
+\2 Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me.
+ \[\2 puts \7' hand into \1's\]
+
+\1 Give me your pardon, sir: I've done you wrong;
+ But pardon't, as you are a gentleman.
+ This presence knows,
+ And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd
+ With sore distraction. What I have done,
+ That might your nature, honour and exception
+ Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness.
+ Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet:
+ If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away,
+ And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes,
+ Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it.
+ Who does it, then? His madness: if't be so,
+ Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd;
+ His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.
+ Sir, in this audience,
+ Let my disclaiming from a purposed evil
+ Free me so far in your most generous thoughts,
+ That I have shot mine arrow o'er the house,
+ And hurt my brother. \\
+
+\7 I am satisfied in nature,
+ Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most
+ To my revenge: but in my terms of honour
+ I stand aloof; and will no reconcilement,
+ Till by some elder masters, of known honour,
+ I have a voice and precedent of peace,
+ To keep my name ungored. But till that time,
+ I do receive your offer'd love like love,
+ And will not wrong it. \\
+
+\1 I embrace it freely;
+ And will this brother's wager frankly play.
+ Give us the foils. Come on. \\
+
+\7 Come, one for me.
+
+\1 I'll be your foil, Laertes: in mine ignorance
+ Your skill shall, like a star i' the darkest night,
+ Stick fiery off indeed. \\
+
+\7 You mock me, sir.
+
+\1 No, by this hand.
+
+\2 Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet,
+ You know the wager? \\
+
+\1 Very well, my lord
+ Your grace hath laid the odds o' the weaker side.
+
+\2 I do not fear it; I have seen you both:
+ But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds.
+
+\7 This is too heavy, let me see another.
+
+\1 This likes me well. These foils have all a length?
+
+ \[They prepare to play\]
+
+\12 Ay, my good lord.
+
+\2 Set me the stoops of wine upon that table.
+ If Hamlet give the first or second hit,
+ Or quit in answer of the third exchange,
+ Let all the battlements their ordnance fire:
+ The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath;
+ And in the cup an union shall he throw,
+ Richer than that which four successive kings
+ In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups;
+ And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
+ The trumpet to the cannoneer without,
+ The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth,
+ `Now the king drinks to Hamlet.' Come, begin:
+ And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.
+
+ \(c)The cups are set at his size; trumpets sounds;\\
+ Hamlet and Laertes take their stations\)
+
+\1 Come on, sir. \\
+\7 Come, my lord. \\
+ \(They play\)
+\1 One! \\
+
+\7 No. \\
+
+\1 Judgment?
+
+\12 A hit, a very palpable hit. \\
+
+\[r]they break off; the kettle-drum sounds, the trumpets blow,
+ and a cannon-shot is heard without.\]
+
+
+\7 Well, again.
+\2 Stay; give me drink. \[a servant fills a cup\]
+ Hamlet, \[p]he holds up a jewel\,\], this pearl is thine;
+ Here's to thy health. \\\[r]he drinks and then seems to cast\\
+ the pearl into the cup\]
+ Give him the cup.
+
+\1 I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile.
+ \[r]the servant sets on a table behind him\]
+ Come. \\
+
+ \(They play again\)
+
+ Another hit! What say you?
+
+\7 A touch, a touch, I do confess. \[r]they break off\]
+
+\2 Our son shall win. \\
+
+\3 He's fat, and scant of breath.
+ Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows;
+ The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.
+
+\1 Good madam! \\
+\2 Gertrude, do not drink.
+\3 I will, my lord; I pray you, pardon me.
+ \[r]she drinks and offers the cup to \1\]
+\aparte\2 It is the poison'd cup: it is too late.
+
+\1 I dare not drink yet, madam---by and by.
+\3 Come, let me wipe thy face. \[r]she does so\]
+\7 My lord, I'll hit him now. \\
+\2 I do not think't.
+\aparte\7 And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience.
+\1 Come, for the third, Laertes: you but dally;
+ I pray you, pass with your best violence;
+ I am afeard you make a wanton of me.
+
+\7 Say you so? come on.
+ \(They play the third bout\)
+
+\12 Nothing, neither way. \[r]they break off\]
+
+\7 Have at you now! \\
+
+\[r]\7 wounds \1; then in scuffling, they\\ change rapiers, and \1 wounds \7\]
+
+\2 Part them; they are incensed.
+
+\1 Nay, come, again. \\ \[r]the \3 falls\]
+
+\12 Look to the queen there, ho!
+
+\6 They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord?
+
+\12 How is't, Laertes?
+
+\7 Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric;
+ I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery.
+
+\1 How does the queen? \\
+
+\2 She swounds to see them bleed.
+
+\3 No, no, the drink, the drink,---O my dear Hamlet,---
+ The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. \[r]she dies\]
+
+\1 O villany! Ho! let the door be lock'd:
+ Treachery! Seek it out.
+
+\7 It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain;
+ No medicine in the world can do thee good;
+ In thee there is not half an hour of life;
+ The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,
+ Unbated and envenom'd: the foul practise
+ Hath turn'd itself on me lo, here I lie,
+ Never to rise again: thy mother's poison'd:
+ I can no more: the king, the king's to blame.
+
+\1 The point!---envenom'd too!
+ Then, venom, to thy work. \[he stabs the \2\]
+
+\persona{All} Treason! treason!
+
+\2 O, yet defend me, friends; I am but hurt.
+
+\1 Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane,
+ Drink off this potion. Is thy union here?
+ Follow my mother. \\\[\2 dies\]
+
+\7 He is justly served;
+ It is a poison temper'd by himself.
+ Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet:
+ Mine and my father's death come not upon thee,
+ Nor thine on me. \[dies\]
+
+\1 Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.
+ I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu!
+ You that look pale and tremble at this chance,
+ That are but mutes or audience to this act,
+ Had I but time---as this fell sergeant, death,
+ Is strict in his arrest---O, I could tell you---
+ But let it be. Horatio, I am dead;
+ Thou livest; report me and my cause aright
+ To the unsatisfied. \\
+
+\6 Never believe it:
+ I am more an antique Roman than a Dane:
+ Here's yet some liquor left. \\
+
+\1 As thou'rt a man,
+ Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't.
+ O good Horatio, what a wounded name,
+ Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me!
+ If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart
+ Absent thee from felicity awhile,
+ And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
+ To tell my story.---\\
+
+ \(March afar off, and shot within\)
+
+ What warlike noise is this?
+
+\12 Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland,
+ To the ambassadors of England gives
+ This warlike volley. \\
+
+\1 O, I die, Horatio;
+ The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit:
+ I cannot live to hear the news from England;
+ But I do prophesy the election lights
+ On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice;
+ So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less,
+ Which have solicited. The rest is silence. \[dies\]
+
+\6 Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince:
+ And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!
+ Why does the drum come hither?
+
+ \(March within\)
+
+ \(Enter \17, the English Ambassadors,
+ and others\)
+
+\17 Where is this sight? \\
+
+\6 What is it ye would see?
+ If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.
+
+\17 This quarry cries on havoc. O proud death,
+ What feast is toward in thine eternal cell,
+ That thou so many princes at a shot
+ So bloodily hast struck? \\
+
+\persona{First Ambassador} The sight is dismal;
+ And our affairs from England come too late:
+ The ears are senseless that should give us hearing,
+ To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd,
+ That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead:
+ Where should we have our thanks? \\
+
+\6 Not from his mouth,
+ Had it the ability of life to thank you:
+ He never gave commandment for their death.
+ But since, so jump upon this bloody question,
+ You from the Polack wars, and you from England,
+ Are here arrived give order that these bodies
+ High on a stage be placed to the view;
+ And let me speak to the yet unknowing world
+ How these things came about: so shall you hear
+ Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts,
+ Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters,
+ Of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause,
+ And, in this upshot, purposes mistook
+ Fall'n on the inventors' reads: all this can I
+ Truly deliver. \\
+
+\17 Let us haste to hear it,
+ And call the noblest to the audience.
+ For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune:
+ I have some rights of memory in this kingdom,
+ Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me.
+
+\6 Of that I shall have also cause to speak,
+ And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more;
+ But let this same be presently perform'd,
+ Even while men's minds are wild; lest more mischance
+ On plots and errors, happen. \\
+
+\17 Let four captains
+ Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage;
+ For he was likely, had he been put on,
+ To have proved most royally: and, for his passage,
+ The soldiers' music and the rites of war
+ Speak loudly for him.
+ Take up the bodies: such a sight as this
+ Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss.
+ Go, bid the soldiers shoot.
+
+ \(A dead march. Exeunt, bearing off the dead
+ bodies; after which a peal of ordnance is shot off\)
+
+\endVersus
+\endDrama
+\end{document}
+
+
+