Hamlet, Prince of Denmarke. Actus Primus, Scena Prima
William Shakespeare
SHAKESPEARE'S TRAGEDY
OF
HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.
ARRANGED FOR REPRESENTATION AT THE Royal Princess's Theatre
WITH EXPLANATORY NOTES,
BY CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A.
AS PERFORMED ON MONDAY, JANUARY 10, 1859.
LONDON:
BRADBURY AND EVANS, 11, BOUVERIE STREET. 1859.
LONDON: BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
Dramatis Personæ
CLAUDIUS (_King of Denmark_) Mr. RYDER.
HAMLET (_son to the former and_ _nephew to the present King_). Mr. CHARLES KEAN.
POLONIUS (_Lord Chamberlain_) Mr. MEADOWS.
HORATIO (_friend To Hamlet_) Mr. GRAHAM.
LAERTES (_son To Polonius_) Mr. J. F. CATHCART.
ROSENCRANTZ } { Mr. BRAZIER. GUILDENSTERN } (_Courtiers_) { Mr. G. EVERETT. OSRICK } { Mr. DAVID FISHER.
PRIEST Mr. TERRY.
MARCELLUS Mr. PAULO.
BERNARDO Mr. DALY.
FRANCISCO Mr. COLLETT.
GHOST OF HAMLET'S FATHER Mr. WALTER LACY.
FIRST GRAVEDIGGER Mr. FRANK MATTHEWS.
SECOND GRAVEDIGGER Mr. H. SAKER.
FIRST PLAYER Mr. F. COOKE.
SECOND PLAYER Mr. ROLLESTON.
GERTRUDE (_Queen of Denmark, and_ _mother of Hamlet_) Mrs. CHARLES KEAN.
OPHELIA (_daughter of Polonius_) Miss HEATH.
ACTRESS Miss DALY.
STAGE DIRECTIONS.
R. H. means Right Hand; L. H. Left Hand; U. E. Upper Entrance; R. H. C. Enters through the Centre from the Right Hand; L. H. C. Enters through the Centre from the Left Hand.
RELATIVE POSITIONS OF THE PERFORMERS WHEN ON THE STAGE.
R. means on the Right side of the Stage; L. on the Left side of the Stage; C. Centre of the Stage; R. C. Right Centre of the Stage; L. C. Left Centre of the Stage.
The reader is supposed _to be on the Stage_, facing the audience.
PREFACE.
The play of _Hamlet_ is above all others the most stupendous monument of Shakespeare's genius, standing as a beacon to command the wonder and admiration of the world, and as a memorial to future generations, that the mind of its author was moved by little less than inspiration. _Lear_, with its sublime picture of human misery;--_Othello_, with its harrowing overthrow of a nature great and amiable;--_Macbeth_, with its fearful murder of a monarch, whose "virtues plead like angels trumpet-tongued against the deep damnation of his taking off,"--severally exhibit, in the most pre-eminent degree, all those mighty elements which constitute the perfection of tragic art--the grand, the pitiful, and the terrible. _Hamlet_ is a history of mind--a tragedy of thought. It contains the deepest philosophy, and most profound wisdom; yet speaks the language of the heart, touching the secret spring of every sense and feeling. Here we have no ideal exaltation of character, but life with its blended faults and virtues,--a gentle nature unstrung by passing events, and thus rendered "out of tune and harsh."
The original story of Hamlet is to be found in the Latin pages of the Danish historian, Saxo Grammaticus, who died in the year 1208. Towards the end of the sixteenth century, the French author, Francis de Belleforest, introduced the fable into a collection of novels, which were translated into English, and printed in a small quarto black letter volume, under the title of the "Historie of Hamblett," from which source Shakespeare constructed the present tragedy.
Saxo has placed his history about 200 years before Christianity, when barbarians, clothed in skins, peopled the shores of the Baltic. The poet, however, has so far modernised the subject as to make Hamlet a Christian, and England tributary to the "sovereign majesty of Denmark." A date can therefore be easily fixed, and the costume of the tenth and eleventh centuries may be selected for the purpose. There are but few authentic records in existence, but these few afford reason to believe that very slight difference existed between the dress of the Dane and that of the Anglo-Saxon of the same period.
Since its first representation, upwards of two centuries and a half ago, no play has been acted so frequently, or commanded such universal admiration. It draws within the sphere of its attraction both the scholastic and the unlearned. It finds a response in every breast, however high or however humble. By its colossal aid it exalts the drama of England above that of every nation, past or present. It is, indeed, the most marvellous creation of human intellect.
CHARLES KEAN.
HAMLET,
PRINCE OF DENMARK.
ACT I.
SCENE I.--ELSINORE. A PLATFORM BEFORE THE CASTLE. NIGHT.
FRANCISCO _on his post. Enter to him_ BERNARDO (L.H.)
_Ber._ Who's there?
_Fran._ (R.) Nay, answer me:[1] stand, and unfold[2] yourself.
_Ber._ Long live the king![3]
_Fran._ Bernardo?
_Ber._ He.
_Fran._ You come most carefully upon your hour.
_Ber._ 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco.
_Fran._ For this relief much thanks:
[_Crosses to_ L.]
'tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart.
_Ber._ Have you had quiet guard?
_Fran._ Not a mouse stirring.
_Ber._ Well, good night. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, The rivals of my watch,[4] bid them make haste.
_Fran._ I think I hear them.--Stand, ho! Who's there?
_Hor._ Friends to this ground.
_Mar._ And liegemen to the Dane.[5]
_Enter_ HORATIO _and_ MARCELLUS (L.H.)
_Fran._ Give you good night.
_Mar._ O, farewell, honest soldier: Who hath reliev'd you?
_Fran._ Bernardo hath my place. Give you good night.
[_Exit_ FRANCISCO, L.H.]
_Mar._ Holloa! Bernardo!
_Ber._ Say, What, is Horatio there?
_Hor._ (_Crosses to_ C.) A piece of him.[6]
_Ber._ (R.) Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus.
_Hor._ What, has this thing appear'd again to-night?
_Ber._ I have seen nothing.
_Mar._ (L.) 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;[7] That, if again this apparition come, He may approve our eyes,[8] and speak to it.
_Hor._ Tush! tush! 'twill not appear.
_Ber._ Come, let us once again assail your ears, That are so fortified against our story, What we two nights have seen.[9]
_Hor._ Well, let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
_Ber._ Last night of all, When yon 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--
_Mar._ Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!
_Enter_ Ghost (L.H.)
_Ber._ In the same figure, like the king that's dead.
_Hor._ Most like:--it harrows me with fear and wonder.[10]
_Ber._ It would be spoke to.
_Mar._ Speak to it, Horatio.
_Hor._ What art thou, that usurp'st this time of night,[11] Together with that fair and warlike form In which the majesty of buried Denmark Did sometimes march? By heaven I charge thee, speak!
_Mar._ It is offended.
[Ghost _crosses to_ R.]
_Ber._ See! it stalks away!
_Hor._ Stay!--speak!--speak, I charge thee, speak!
[_Exit_ Ghost, R.H.]
_Mar._ 'Tis gone, and will not answer.
_Ber._ How now, Horatio! You tremble, and look pale: Is not this something more than fantasy? What think you of it?
_Hor._ Before heaven, I might not this believe, Without the sensible and true avouch[12] Of mine own eyes.
_Mar._ Is it not like the king?
_Hor._ As thou art to thyself: Such was the very armour he had on, When he the ambitious Norway combated.
_Mar._ Thus, twice before, and jump at this dead hour,[13] With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
_Hor._ In what particular thought to work,[14] I know not; But in the gross and scope[15] of mine opinion, This bodes some strange eruption to our state.[16] In the most high and palmy[17] 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.
_Re-enter_ Ghost (R.H.)
But, (L.C.) soft, behold! lo, where it comes again! I'll cross it, though it blast me.
[HORATIO _crosses in front of the_ Ghost _to_ R. Ghost _crosses to_ L.]
Stay, illusion! If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,[18] 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! O, if thou hast uphoarded in thy life Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,[19] For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death, Speak of it:--stay, and speak!
[_Exit_ Ghost, L.H.]
_Mar._ 'Tis gone! We do it wrong, being so majestical, To offer it the show of violence.
_Ber._ It was about to speak, when the cock crew.
_Hor._ And then it started like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons.[20] I have heard, The cock, that is the trumpet of the morn, Doth with his lofty[21] 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[22] hies To his confine. But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill: Break we our watch up; and, by my advice, Let us impart what we have seen to-night Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life, This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.
[_Exeunt_, L.H.]
SCENE II.--A ROOM OF STATE IN THE PALACE.
_Trumpet March._
_Enter the_ KING _and_ QUEEN, _preceded by_ POLONIUS, HAMLET, LAERTES,[23] Lords, Ladies, _and_ Attendants.
_King._ (R.C.) Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death The memory be green;[24] 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[25] think on him, Together with remembrance of ourselves. Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, The imperial jointress of this warlike state, Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,[26] Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr'd[27] Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone With this affair along:--For all, our thanks. And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? You told us of some suit; What is't, Laertes?
_Laer._ (R.) My dread lord, Your leave and favour[28] to return to France; From whence though willingly I came to Denmark, To show my duty in your coronation, Yet now, I must confess, that duty done, My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France, And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
_King._ Have you your father's leave? What says Polonious?
_Pol._ (R.) He hath, my lord, (wrung from me my slow leave By laboursome petition; and, at last, Upon his will I sealed my hard consent):[29] I do beseech you, give him leave to go.
_King._ Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine, And thy best graces spend it at thy will![30] But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,----
_Ham._ (L.) A little more than kin, and less than kind.[31]
[Aside.]
_King._ How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
_Ham._ Not so, my lord; I am too much i'the sun.[32]
_Queen._(L.C.) Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour[33] off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. Do not for ever with thy vailed lids[34] Seek for thy noble father in the dust: Thou know'st 'tis common, all that live must die, Passing through nature to eternity.
_Ham._ Ay, madam, it is common.
_Queen._ If it be, Why seems it so particular with thee?
_Ham._ Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems. 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief, That can denote me truly: These, indeed, seem, For they are actions that a man might play. But I have that within which passeth show;[35] These but the trappings[36] and the suits of woe.
_King._ 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, To give these mourning duties to your father: But, you must know, your father lost a father; That father lost, lost his;[37] and the survivor bound, In filial obligation, for some term To do obsequious sorrow:[38] But to perséver[39] In obstinate condolement,[40] is a course Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief: It shows a will most incorrect to Heaven.[41] We pray you, throw to earth This unprevailing[42] woe; and think of us As of a father: for let the world take note, You are the most immediate to our throne; Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.
_Queen._ Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet: I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.
_Ham._ I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
_King._ Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply; Be as ourself in Denmark.--Madam, come; This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet Sits smiling to my heart:[43] in grace whereof,[44] No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day,[45] But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell; Re-speaking earthly thunder.
[_Trumpet March repeated. Exeunt_ KING _and_ QUEEN, _preceded by_ POLONIUS, Lords, Ladies, LAERTES, _and_ Attendants, R.H.]
_Ham._ O, that this too, too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself[46] into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon[47] 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world![48] Fye on't! O fye! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely.[49] 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:[50] so loving to my mother, That he might not beteem[51] 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;--she married with my uncle, My father's brother; but no more like my father Than I to Hercules. It is not, nor it cannot come to, good: But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue!
_Enter_ HORATIO, BERNARDO, _and_ MARCELLUS (R.H.)
_Hor._ Hail to your lordship!
_Ham._ I am glad to see you well: Horatio,--or I do forget myself.
_Hor._ The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.
_Ham._ Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you:[52] And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?-- Marcellus?
[_Crosses to_ C.]
_Mar._ (R.) My good lord,
_Ham._ (C.) I am very glad to see you; good even, sir.
[_To_ BERNARDO, R.]
But what, in faith,[53] make you[54] from Wittenberg?[55]
_Hor._ (L.) A truant disposition, good my lord.
_Ham._ I would not hear your enemy say so; Nor shall you do mine ear that violence, To make it truster of your own report Against yourself: I know you are no truant. But what is your affair in Elsinore? We'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.
_Hor._ My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.
_Ham._ I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student; I think it was to see my mother's wedding.
_Hor._ Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.
_Ham._ Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. Would I had met my dearest foe[56] in Heaven Ere ever I had seen that day, Horatio! My father,--Methinks, I see my father.
_Hor._ Where, My lord?
_Ham._ In my mind's eye, Horatio.
_Hor._ I saw him once; he was a goodly king.[57]
_Ham._ He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.
[_Crosses to_ L.]
_Hor._ (C.) My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
_Ham._ Saw who?
_Hor._ My lord, the king your father.
_Ham._ The king my father!
_Hor._ Season your admiration for a while[58] With an attent ear; till I may deliver, Upon the witness of these gentlemen, This marvel to you.
_Ham._ For Heaven's love, let me hear.
_Hor._ Two nights together had these gentlemen, Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, In the dead waste and middle of the night,[59] Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father, Arm'd at all points exactly, cap-à-pé, Appears before them, and, with solemn march Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd By their oppress'd and fear-surprisèd eyes, Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distill'd Almost to jelly with the act of fear,[60] 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.
_Ham._ But where was this?
[_Crosses to_ MARCELLUS.]
_Mar._ (R.) My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.
_Ham._ (C.) Did you not speak to it?
_Hor._ (L.) My lord, I did; But answer made it none: yet once methought It lifted up its head, and did address[61] Itself to motion, like as it would speak: But, even then, the morning cock crew loud, And at the sound it shrunk in haste away; And vanish'd from our sight.
_Ham._ 'Tis very strange.
_Hor._ As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true; And we did think it writ down[62] in our duty To let you know of it.
_Ham._ Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. Hold you the watch to-night?
_Mar._ We do, my lord.
_Ham._ Arm'd, say you?
_Mar._ Arm'd, my lord.
_Ham._ From top to toe?
_Mar._ My lord, from head to foot.
_Ham._ Then saw you not His face?
_Hor._ O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.[63]
_Ham._ What, looked he frowningly?
_Hor._ A countenance more In sorrow than in anger.
_Ham._ Pale or red?
_Hor._ Nay, very pale.
_Ham._ And fix'd his eyes upon you?
_Hor._ Most constantly.
_Ham._ I would I had been there.
_Hor._ It would have much amaz'd you.
_Ham._ Very like, Very like. Stay'd it long?
_Hor._ While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
_Mar._} } Longer, Longer. _Ber._}
_Hor._ Not when I saw it.
_Ham._ His beard was grizzl'd, No?
_Hor._ It was, as I have seen it in his life, A sable silver'd.
_Ham._ I will watch to-night; Perchance, 'twill walk again.
_Hor._ (C.) I warrant it will.
_Ham._ If it assume my noble father's person, I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape, And bid me hold my peace.
[_Crosses to_ L.] I pray you all, If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, Let it be tenable[64] 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.
_Hor._ (R.) Our duty to your honour.
_Ham._ Your loves, as mine to you: Farewell.
[_Exeunt_ HORATIO, MARCELLUS, _and_ BERNARDO, R.H.]
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. [_Exit_, L.H.]
SCENE III.--A ROOM IN POLONIUS'S HOUSE.
_Enter_ LAERTES _and_ OPHELIA (R.H.)
_Laer._ (L.C.) My necessaries are embarked: farewell: And, sister, as the winds give benefit,[65] Let me hear from you.
_Oph._ (R.C.) Do you doubt that?
_Laer._ For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,[66] Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood; A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, The pérfume and suppliance of a minute.[67]
_Oph._ No more but so?
_Laer._ He may not, as unvalued persons do, Carve for himself; for on his choice depends The safety and the health of the whole state. Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain, If with too credent ear you list his songs. Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister; And keep within the rear of your affection,[68] Out of the shot and danger of desire. The chariest maid[69] is prodigal enough, If she unmask her beauty to the moon: Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes: Be wary, then; best safety lies in fear: Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
_Oph._ I shall the effect of this good lesson keep, As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother, Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,[70] Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, And recks not his own read.[71]
_Laer._ O, fear me not. I stay too long;--but here my father comes.
_Enter_ POLONIUS (L.H.)
_Pol._ Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame! The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,[72] And you are staid for. There,--my blessing with you!
[_Laying his hand on_ LAERTES' _head_.]
And these few precepts in thy memory-- Look thou charácter.[73] Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportion'd thought[74] his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in, Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: Take each man's censure,[75] 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 most select and generous, chief in that.[76] Neither a borrower nor a lender be: For loan oft loses both itself and friend; And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.[77] 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![78]
_Laer._ Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.
[_Crosses to_ L.]
Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well What I have said to you.
_Oph._ (_Crosses to_ LAERTES.) 'Tis in my memory lock'd, And you yourself shall keep the key of it.[79]
_Laer._ Farewell.
[_Exit_ LAERTES, L.H.]
_Pol._ What is it, Ophelia, he hath said to you?
_Oph._ So please you, something touching the lord Hamlet.
_Pol._ Marry, well bethought: 'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late Given private time to you;[80] and you yourself Have of your audience been most free and bounteous: If it be so (as so 'tis put on me,[81] 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[82] you? give me up the truth.
_Oph._ He hath, my lord, of late, made many tenders Of his affection to me.
_Pol._ Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl, Unsifted[83] in such perilous circumstance. Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?
_Oph._ I do not know, my lord, what I should think.
_Pol._ Marry, I'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, you'll tender me a fool.
_Oph._ My lord, he hath impórtun'd me with love In honourable fashion.
_Pol._ Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.
_Oph._ And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, With almost all the holy vows of heaven.
_Pol._ Ay, springes to catch woodcocks.[84] I do know, When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul Lends the tongue vows: This is for all,-- I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth, Have you so slander any leisure moment,[85] As to give words or talk with the lord Hamlet. Look to't, I charge you: come your ways.
_Oph._ I shall obey, my lord.
[_Exeunt_, R.H.]
SCENE IV.--THE PLATFORM. NIGHT.
_Enter_ HAMLET, HORATIO, _and_ MARCELLUS (L.H.U.E.)
_Ham._ The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.
_Hor._ It is a nipping and an eager air.[86]
_Ham._ What hour now?
_Hor._ I think it lacks of twelve.
_Mar._ No, it is struck.
_Hor._ (R.C.) Indeed? I heard it not: then it draws near the season, Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.
[_A Flourish of Trumpets, and Ordnance shot off without._]
What does this mean, my lord?
_Ham._ (L.C.) The king doth wake to-night,[87] and takes his rouse,[88] And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge.
_Hor._ Is it a custom?
_Ham._ Ay, marry, is't:
[_Crosses to_ HORATIO.]
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.
_Enter_ Ghost (L.H.)
_Hor._ (R.H.) Look, my lord, it comes!
_Ham._ (C.) 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 com'st in such a questionable shape,[89] 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 canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,[90] Have burst their cerements;[91] why the sepulchre, Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd, Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws, To cast thee up again! What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again, in cómplete steel, Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous; and we fools of nature[92] So horridly to shake our disposition[93] With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?
[Ghost _beckons._]
_Hor._ It beckons you to go away with it, As if it some impartment did desire To you alone.
[Ghost _beckons again._]
_Mar._ Look, with what courteous action It waves you to a more removèd ground:[94] But do not go with it.
_Hor._ No, by no means.
_Ham._ It will not speak; then I will follow it.
_Hor._ Do not, my lord.
_Ham._ Why, what should be the fear? I do not set my life at a pin's fee;[95] And for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself?
[Ghost _beckons._]
It waves me forth again;--I'll follow it.
_Hor._ What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord,[96] Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff That beetles o'er his base into the sea,[97] And there assume some other horrible form, And draw you into madness?
[Ghost _beckons._]
_Ham._ It waves me still.-- Go on; I'll follow thee.
_Mar._ You shall not go, my lord.
_Ham._ Hold off your hands.
_Hor._ Be rul'd; you shall not go.
_Ham._ My fate cries out, And makes each petty artery in this body As hardy as the Némean lion's nerve.[98]
[Ghost _beckons_]
Still am I call'd:--unhand me, gentlemen;
[_Breaking from them._]
By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me:--[99] I say, away!--Go on; I'll follow thee.
[_Exeunt_ Ghost _and_ HAMLET, L.H., _followed at a distance by_ HORATIO _and_ MARCELLUS.]
SCENE V.--A MORE REMOTE PART OF THE PLATFORM. NIGHT.
_Re-enter_ Ghost _and_ HAMLET (L.H.U.E.)
_Ham._ (R.) Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak; I'll go no further.
_Ghost._ (L.) Mark me.
_Ham._ I will.
_Ghost._ My hour is almost come, When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames Must render up myself.
_Ham._ Alas, poor ghost!
_Ghost._ Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing To what I shall unfold.
_Ham._ Speak; I am bound to hear.
_Ghost._ So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.
_Ham._ What?
_Ghost._ I am thy father's spirit; Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confin'd to fast in fires,[100] Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul;[101] freeze thy young blood; Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres; Thy knotted and combinèd locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end,[102] Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:[103] But this eternal blazon[104] must not be To ears of flesh and blood.--List, list, O, list!-- If thou didst ever thy dear father love,----
_Ham._ O Heaven!
_Ghost._ Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.
_Ham._ Murder!
_Ghost._ Murder most foul, as in the best it is; But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
_Ham._ Haste me to know it, that I, with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love, May sweep to my revenge.
_Ghost._ I find thee apt; And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,[105] Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear: 'Tis given out that, sleeping in mine orchard,[106] A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forged process[107] of my death Rankly abus'd: but know, thou noble youth, The serpent that did sting thy father's life Now wears his crown.
_Ham._ O, my prophetic soul! my uncle!
_Ghost._ Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts, 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,[108] whose natural gifts were poor To those of mine! But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air; Brief let me be.--Sleeping within mine orchard, My custom always in the afternoon, Upon my secure[109] hour thy uncle stole, With juice of cursed hebenon[110] in a vial, And in the porches of mine 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; So did it mine; Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despatch'd:[111] Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd;[112] No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head.
_Ham._ O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
_Ghost._ If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not; Let not the royal bed of Denmark be A couch for luxury[113] and damnèd incest. But, howsoever thou pursu'st 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 ineffectual fire:[114] Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me.
[_Exit_, L.H.]
_Ham._ 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.[115] Remember thee! Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all forms, all pressures past,[116] And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven, I have sworn't.
_Hor._ (_Without._) My lord, my lord,----
_Mar._ (_Without._) Lord Hamlet,----
_Hor._ (_Without._) Heaven secure him!
_Ham._ So be it!
_Mar._ (_Without._) Illo, ho, ho, my lord!
_Ham._ Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come.[117]
_Enter_ HORATIO _and_ MARCELLUS (L.H.U.E.)
_Mar._ (R.) How is't, my noble lord?
_Hor._ (L.) What news, my lord?
_Ham._ (C.) O, wonderful!
_Hor._ Good my lord, tell it.
_Ham._ No; You will reveal it.
_Hor._ Not I, my lord, by heaven.
_Mar._ Nor I, my lord.
_Ham._ How say you, then; would heart of man once think it? But you'll be secret?--
_Hor._} } Ay, by heaven, my lord. _Mar._}
_Ham._ There's ne'er a villain, dwelling in all Denmark-- But he's an arrant knave.[118]
_Hor._ There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave To tell us this.
_Ham._ Why, right; you are in 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 hath business and desire, Such as it is;--and, for my own poor part, Look you, I will go pray.
_Hor._ These are but wild and whirling words,[119] my lord.
_Ham._ I am sorry they offend you, heartily.
_Hor._ There's no offence, my lord.
_Ham._ Yes, by Saint Patrick,[120] 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'er-master it[121] as you may. And now, good friends, As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, Give me one poor request.
_Hor._ What is't, my lord? We will.
_Ham._ Never make known what you have seen to-night.
_Hor._} } My lord, we will not. _Mar._}
_Ham._ Nay, but swear't.
_Hor._ Propose the oath, my lord.
_Ham._ Never to speak of this that you have seen. Swear by my sword.
[HORATIO _and_ MARCELLUS _place each their right hand on_ HAMLET'S _sword._]
_Ghost._ (_Beneath._) Swear.
_Hor._ O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!
_Ham._ And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.[122] 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 antick disposition[123] on,-- That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, With arms encumber'd thus,[124] or this head-shake, Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, As, _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 do you swear, So grace and mercy at your most need help you!
[HORATIO _and_ MARCELLUS _again place their hands on_ HAMLET'S _sword._]
_Ghost._ (_Beneath._) Swear.
_Ham._ Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! 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, Heaven willing, shall not lack.[125] Let us go in together;
[_Crosses to_ L.]
And still your fingers on your lips, I pray. The time is out of joint;--O cursèd spite, That ever I was born to set it right! Nay, come, let's go together.
[_Exeunt_ L.H.]
END OF ACT FIRST.
Notes
Act I
[Footnote I.1: _Me:_] _i.e., me_ who am already on the watch, and have a right to demand the watch-word.]
[Footnote I.2: _Unfold_] Announce, make known.]
[Footnote I.3: _Long live the King._] The watch-word.]
[Footnote I.4: _The rivals of my watch_,] _Rivals_, for partners or associates.]
[Footnote I.5: _And liegemen to the Dane._] _i.e._, owing allegiance to Denmark.]
[Footnote I.6: _A piece of him._] Probably a cant expression.]
[Footnote I.7: _To watch the minutes of this night_; This seems to have been an expression common in Shakespeare's time.]
[Footnote I.8: _Approve our eyes_,] To _approve_, in Shakespeare's age, signified to make good or establish.]
[Footnote I.9: _What we have seen._] We must here supply "with," or "by relating" before "what we have seen."]
[Footnote I.10: _It harrows me with fear and wonder._] _i.e._, it confounds and overwhelms me.]
[Footnote I.11: _Usurp'st this time of night_,] _i.e._, abuses, uses against right, and the order of things.]
[Footnote I.12: _I might not this believe, &c._] I _could_ not: it had not been permitted me, &c., without the full and perfect evidence, &c.]
[Footnote I.13: _Jump at this dead hour_,] _Jump_ and _just_ were synonymous in Shakespeare's time.]
[Footnote I.14: _In what particular thought to work_,] In what particular course to set my thoughts at work: in what particular train to direct the mind and exercise it in conjecture.]
[Footnote I.15: _Gross and scope_] Upon the whole, and in a general view.]
[Footnote I.16: _Bodes some strange eruption to our state_,] _i.e._, some political distemper, which will break out in dangerous consequences.]
[Footnote I.17: _Palmy state_] Outspread, flourishing. Palm branches were the emblem of victory.]
[Footnote I.18: _Sound, or use of voice_,] Articulation.]
[Footnote I.19:
_Uphoarded in thy life Extorted treasure in the womb of earth_,]
So in Decker's Knight's Conjuring, &c. "If any of them had bound the spirit of gold by any charmes _in cares_, or in iron fetters, _under the ground_, they should, _for their own soule's quiet (which, questionless, else would whine up and down_,) not for the good of their children, release it."]
[Footnote I.20:
_And then it started like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons._]
Apparitions were supposed to fly from the crowing of the cock, because it indicated the approach of day.]
[Footnote I.21: _Lofty_] High and loud.]
[Footnote I.22: _The extravagant and erring spirit_] _Extravagant_ is, got out of his bounds. _Erring_ is here used in the sense of wandering.]
[Footnote I.23: Laertes is unknown in the original story, being an introduction of Shakespeare's.]
[Footnote I.24: _Green_;] Fresh.]
[Footnote I.25: _Wisest sorrow_] Sober grief, passion discreetly reined.]
[Footnote I.26: _With a defeated joy_,] _i.e._, with joy baffled; with joy interrupted by grief.]
[Footnote I.27: _Barr'd_] Excluded--acted without the concurrence of.]
[Footnote I.28: _Your leave and favour_] The favour of your leave granted, the kind permission. Two substantives with a copulative being here, as is the frequent practice of our author, used for an adjective and substantive: an adjective sense is given to a substantive.]
[Footnote I.29: _Upon his will I sealed my hard consent:_] At or upon his earnest and importunate suit, I gave my full and final, though hardly obtained and reluctant, consent.]
[Footnote I.30:
_Take thy fair hour! time be thine; And thy best graces spend it at thy will!_]
Catch the auspicious moment! be time thine own! and may the exercise of thy fairest virtue fill up those hours, that are wholly at your command!]
[Footnote I.31: _A little more than kin, and less than kind._] Dr. Johnson says that _kind_ is the Teutonic word for _child_. Hamlet, therefore, answers to the titles of _cousin_ and _son_, which the king had given him, that he was somewhat more than _cousin_, and less than _son_. Steevens remarks, that it seems to have been another proverbial phrase: "The nearer we are in blood, the further we must be from love; the greater the _kindred_ is, the less the _kindness_ must be." _Kin_ is still used in the Midland Counties for _cousin_, and _kind_ signifies _nature_. Hamlet may, therefore, mean that the relationship between them had become _unnatural_.]
[Footnote I.32: _I am too much i'the sun._] Meaning, probably, his being sent for from his studies to be exposed at his uncle's marriage as his _chiefest courtier_, and being thereby placed too much in the radiance of the king's presence; or, perhaps, an allusion to the proverb, "_Out of Heaven's blessing, into the warm sun:_" but it is not unlikely that a quibble is meant between _son_ and _sun_.]
[Footnote I.33: _Nighted colour_] Black--night-like.]
[Footnote I.34: _Vailed lids_] Cast down.]
[Footnote I.35: _Which passeth show_;] _i.e._, "external manners of lament."]
[Footnote I.36: _Trappings_] _Trappings_ are "furnishings."]
[Footnote I.37: _That father lost, lost his_;] "That lost father (of your father, _i.e._, your grandfather), or father so lost, lost his.]"
[Footnote I.38: _Do obsequious sorrow:_] Follow with becoming and ceremonious observance the memory of the deceased.]
[Footnote I.39: _But to perséver_] This word was anciently accented on the second syllable.]
[Footnote I.40: _Obstinate condolement_,] Ceaseless and unremitted expression of grief.]
[Footnote I.41: _Incorrect to Heaven._] Contumacious towards Heaven.]
[Footnote I.42: _Unprevailing_] Fruitless, unprofitable.]
[Footnote I.43: _Sits smiling to my heart:_] _To_ is _at_: gladdens my heart.]
[Footnote I.44: _In grace whereof_,] _i.e._, respectful regard or honour of which.]
[Footnote I.45: _No jocund health, that Denmark drinks to-day_,] Dr. Johnson remarks, that the king's intemperance is very strongly impressed; everything that happens to him gives him occasion to drink. The Danes were supposed to be hard drinkers.]
[Footnote I.46: _Resolve itself_] _To resolve_ is an old word signifying _to dissolve_.]
[Footnote I.47: _His canon_] _i.e._, his rule or law].
[Footnote I.48: _The uses of this world!_] _i.e._, the habitudes and usages of life.]
[Footnote I.49: _Merely._] Wholly--entirely.]
[Footnote I.50: _Hyperion to a satyr:_] An allusion to the exquisite beauty of Apollo, compared with the deformity of a satyr; that satyr, perhaps, being Pan, the brother of Apollo. Our great poet is here guilty of a false quantity, by calling Hypĕrīon, Hypērĭon, a mistake not unusual among our English poets.]
[Footnote I.51: _Might not beteem_] _i.e._, might not allow, permit.]
[Footnote I.52: _I'll change that name with you._] _i.e._, do not call yourself my _servant_, you are my _friend_; so I shall call you, and so I would have you call me.]
[Footnote I.53: _In faith._] Faithfully, in pure and simple verity.]
[Footnote I.54: _But what make you_] What is your object? What are you doing?]
[Footnote I.55: _What, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?_] In Shakespeare's time there was a university at Wittenberg; but as it was not founded till 1502, it consequently did not exist in the time to which this play refers.]
[Footnote I.56: _My dearest foe_] _i.e._, my direst or most important foe. This epithet was commonly used to denote the strongest and liveliest interest in any thing or person, for or against.]
[Footnote I.57: _Goodly king._] _i.e._, a good king.]
[Footnote I.58:
_Season your admiration for a while with an attent ear_;]
_i.e._, suppress your astonishment for a short time, that you may be the better able to give your attention to what we will relate.]
[Footnote I.59: _In the dead waste and middle of the night_,] _i.e._, in the dark and desolate vast, or vacant space and middle of the night. It was supposed that spirits had permission to range the earth by night alone.]
[Footnote I.60: _With the act of fear_,] _i.e._, by the influence or power of fear.]
[Footnote I.61: _Address_] _i.e._, make ready.]
[Footnote I.62: _Writ down_] Prescribed by our own duty.]
[Footnote I.63: _He wore his beaver up._] That part of the helmet which may be lifted up, to take breath the more freely.]
[Footnote I.64: _Tenable_] _i.e._, strictly maintained.]
[Footnote I.65: _Benefit_,] Favourable means.]
[Footnote I.66: _Trifling of his favour_,] Gay and thoughtless intimation.]
[Footnote I.67: _Pérfume and suppliance of a minute._] _i.e._, an amusement to fill up a vacant moment, and render it agreeable.]
[Footnote I.68: _Keep within the rear of your affection_,] Front not the peril; withdraw or check every warm emotion: advance not so far as your affection would lead you.]
[Footnote I.69: _The chariest maid_] Chary is cautious.]
[Footnote I.70: _Puff'd and reckless libertine._] Bloated and swollen, the effect of excess; and heedless and indifferent to consequences.]
[Footnote I.71: _Recks not his own read._] _i.e._, heeds not his own lessons or counsel.]
[Footnote I.72: _Shoulder of your sail_,] A common sea phrase.]
[Footnote I.73: _Look thou charácter._] _i.e._, a word often used by Shakespeare to signify to _write, strongly infix_; the accent is on the second syllable.]
[Footnote I.74: _Unproportion'd thought_] Irregular, disorderly thought.]
[Footnote I.75: _Each man's censure_,] Sentiment, opinion.]
[Footnote I.76: _Chief in that._] _i.e._, chiefly in that.]
[Footnote I.77: _Husbandry_] _i.e._, thrift, economical prudence.]
[Footnote I.78: _Season this in thee!_] _i.e._, infix it in such a manner as that it may never wear out.]
[Footnote I.79: _Yourself shall keep the key of it._] Thence it shall not be dismissed, till you think it needless to retain it.]
[Footnote I.80: _Given private time to you_;] Spent his time in private visits to you.]
[Footnote I.81: _As so 'tis put on me_,] Suggested to, impressed on me.]
[Footnote I.82: _Is between_] _i.e._, what has passed--what intercourse had.]
[Footnote I.83: _Green girl, Unsifted_] _i.e._, inexperienced girl. Unsifted means one who has not nicely _canvassed_ and examined the peril of her situation.]
[Footnote I.84: _Woodcocks._] Witless things.]
[Footnote I.85: _Slander any leisure moment_,] _i.e._, I would not have you so disgrace your most idle moments, as not to find better employment for them than lord Hamlet's conversation.]
[Footnote I.86: _An eager air._] _Eager_ here means _sharp_, from _aigre_, French.]
[Footnote I.87: _Doth wake to-night_,] _i.e._, holds a late revel.]
[Footnote I.88: _Takes his rouse_,] _Rouse_ means drinking bout, carousal.]
[Footnote I.89: _Questionable shape_,] To _question_, in our author's time, signified to _converse_. Questionable, therefore, means _capable of being conversed with._]
[Footnote I.90: _Hearsed in death_,] Deposited with the accustomed funeral rites.]
[Footnote I.91: _Cerements_;] Those precautions usually adopted in preparing dead bodies for sepulture.]
[Footnote I.92: _Fools of nature_] _i.e._, making sport for nature.]
[Footnote I.93: _Disposition_] Frame of mind and body.]
[Footnote I.94: _Removèd ground:_] _Removed_ for _remote_.]
[Footnote I.95: _At a pin's fee_;] _i.e._, the value of a pin.]
[Footnote I.96: _What if it tempt you toward the flood, &c._] Malignant spirits were supposed to entice their victims into places of gloom and peril, and exciting in them the deepest terror.]
[Footnote I.97: _Beetles o'er his base into the sea_,] _i.e._, projects darkly over the sea.]
[Footnote I.98: _Némean lion's nerve._] Shakespeare, and nearly all the poets of his time, disregarded the quantity of Latin names. The poet has here placed the accent on the first syllable, instead of the second.]
[Footnote I.99: _That lets me:_] To let, in the sense in which it is here used, means to hinder--to obstruct--to oppose. The word is derived from the Saxon.]
[Footnote I.100: _To fast in fires_,] Chaucer has a similar passage with regard to eternal punishment--_"And moreover the misery of Hell shall be in default of meat and drink."_]
[Footnote I.101: _Harrow up thy soul_;] Agitate and convulse.]
[Footnote I.102: _Hair to stand on end_,] A common image of that day.
"_Standing_ as frighted with _erected haire_."]
[Footnote I.103: _The fretful porcupine:_] This animal being considered irascible and timid.]
[Footnote I.104: _Eternal blazon_] _i.e._, publication or divulgation of things eternal.]
[Footnote I.105: _Rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf_,] _i.e._, in indolence and sluggishness, by its torpid habits contributes to that morbid state of its juices which may figuratively be denominated rottenness.]
[Footnote I.106: _Orchard_,] Garden.]
[Footnote I.107: _Forged process_] _i.e._, false report of proceedings.]
[Footnote I.108: _Decline upon a wretch._] Stoop with degradation to.]
[Footnote I.109: _Secure_] Unguarded.]
[Footnote I.110: _Hebenon_] Hebenon is described by Nares in his Glossary, as the juice of ebony, supposed to be a deadly poison.]
[Footnote I.111: _Despatch'd:_] Despoiled--bereft.]
[Footnote I.112: _Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd_;] To _housel_ is to minister the sacrament to one lying on his death bed. _Disappointed_ is the same as unappointed, which here means unprepared. _Unanel'd_ is without extreme unction.]
[Footnote I.113: _Luxury_] Lasciviousness.]
[Footnote I.114: _Pale his uneffectual fire:_] _i.e._, not seen by the light of day; or it may mean, shining without heat.]
[Footnote I.115: _In this distracted globe._] _i.e._, his head distracted with thought.]
[Footnote I.116: _Pressures past_,] Impressions heretofore made.]
[Footnote I.117: _Come, bird, come._] This is the call which falconers used to their hawk in the air when they would have him come down to them.]
[Footnote I.118:
_There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark-- But he's an arrant knave._]
Hamlet probably begins these words in the ardour of confidence and sincerity; but suddenly alarmed at the magnitude of the disclosure he was going to make, and considering that, not his friend Horatio only, but another person was present, he breaks off suddenly:--"There's ne'er a villain in all Denmark that can match (perhaps he would have said) my uncle in villainy; but recollecting the danger of such a declaration, he pauses for a moment, and then abruptly concludes:--"but he's an arrant knave."]
[Footnote I.119: _Whirling words_,] Random words thrown out with no specific aim.]
[Footnote I.120: _By Saint Patrick_,] At this time all the whole northern world had their learning from Ireland; to which place it had retired, and there flourished under the auspices of this Saint.]
[Footnote I.121: _O'er-master it_] Get the better of it.]
[Footnote I.122: _Give it welcome._] Receive it courteously, as you would a stranger when introduced.]
[Footnote I.123: _Antick disposition_] _i.e._, strange, foreign to my nature, a disposition which Hamlet assumes as a protection against the danger which he apprehends from his uncle, and as a cloak for the concealment of his own meditated designs.]
[Footnote I.124: _Arms encumber'd thus_,] _i.e._, folded.]
[Footnote I.125: _Friending to you--shall not lack_] Disposition to serve you shall not be wanting.]
ACT II.
SCENE I.--A ROOM IN POLONIUS'S HOUSE.
_Enter_ POLONIUS[1] (L.H.), _meeting Ophelia._ (R.H.)
_Pol._ How now, Ophelia! What's the matter?
_Oph._ O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!
_Pol._ With what, in the name of Heaven?
_Oph._ My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd; Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other, And with a look so piteous in purport, He comes before me.
_Pol._ Mad for thy love?
_Oph._ My lord, I do not know; But, truly, I do fear it.
_Pol._ What said he?
_Oph._ He took me by the wrist, and held me hard; Then goes he to the length of all his arm; And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow, He falls to such perusal of my face As he would draw it. Long staid he so; At last,--a little shaking of mine arm, And thrice his head thus waving up and down, He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound, As it did seem to shatter all his bulk,[2] 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.
_Pol._ Come, go with me; I will go seek the king. This is the very ecstacy of love;[3] What, have you given him any hard words of late?
_Oph._ No, my good lord; but, as you did command, I did repel his letters, and denied His access to me.
_Pol._ That hath made him mad. 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.[4] Come. [_Exeunt_ L.H.]
SCENE II.--A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.
_Enter_ KING, QUEEN, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, _and_ Attendants (R.H.)
_King._ (C.) 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. What it should be, More than his father's death, that thus hath put him So much from the understanding of himself,[5] I cannot dream of: I entreat you both, That you vouchsafe your rest[6] here in our court Some little time: so by your companies To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather, Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus, That, open'd, lies within our remedy.
_Queen._ (R.C.) 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 So to expend your time with us a while, Your visitation shall receive such thanks As fits a king's remembrance.
_Ros._ (R.) Both your majesties Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,[7] Put your dread pleasures more into command Than to entreaty.
_Guil._ (R.) But we both obey, And here give up ourselves, in the full bent,[8] To lay our service freely at your feet.
_King._ Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.
_Queen._ I do beseech you instantly to visit My too much changèd son. Go, some of you, And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is. [_Exeunt_ ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, _and_ Attendants, R.H.]
_Enter_ POLONIUS (L.H.)
_Pol._ Now do I think (or else this brain of mine Hunts not the trail of policy[9] so sure As it hath us'd to do), that I have found The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.
_King._ (C.) O, speak of that; that do I long to hear.
_Pol._ (L.C.) My liege, and madam, to expostulate[10] What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time, Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time; Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,-- I will be brief:--Your noble son is mad: Mad call I it; for, to define true madness, What is't, but to be nothing else but mad? But let that go.
_Queen._ (R.C.) More matter, with less art.
_Pol._ 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.[11] 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,--_[12]
That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase, _beautified_ is a vile phrase: but you shall hear. Thus:
_In her excellent white bosom,[13] these_, &c.[14]
_Queen._ Came this from Hamlet to her?
_Pol._ Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful.-- [_Reads._]
_Doubt thou the stars are fire;_ _Doubt thou the sun doth move;_ _Doubt truth to be a liar;_ _But never doubt, I love._
_O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers;[15] I have not art to reckon my groans: but that I love thee best, O most best,[16] believe it. Adieu._
_Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him_,[17] Hamlet.
This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me: And more above,[18] hath his solicitings,[19] As they fell out by time, by means, and place, All given to my ear.
_King._ But how hath she Receiv'd his love?
_Pol._ What do you think of me?
_King._ As of a man faithful and honourable.
_Pol._ I would fain prove so. But what might you think, When I had seen this hot love on the wing (As I perceived it, I must tell you that, Before my daughter told me), what might you, Or my dear majesty your queen here, think, If I had play'd the desk or table book;[20] Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb;[21] Or look'd upon this love with idle sight;[22] What might you think? No, I went round to work,[23] And my young mistress thus did I bespeak: _Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy sphere; 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;[24] And he, repuls'd (a short tale to make), Fell into sadness; thence into a weakness; Thence to a lightness; and, by this declension, Into the madness wherein now he raves, And all we mourn for.
_King._ Do you think 'tis this?
_Queen._ It may be, very likely.
_Pol._ Hath there been such a time (I'd fain know that,) That I have positively said, _'tis so_, When it proved otherwise?
_King._ Not that I know.
_Pol._ Take this from this, if it be otherwise:
[_Pointing to his head and shoulder._]
If circumstances lead me, I will find Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed Within the centre.
_King._ How may we try it further?
_Pol._ You know, sometimes he walks for hours together Here in the lobby.
_Queen._ So he does, indeed.
_Pol._ At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him: Mark the encounter: if he love her not, And be not from his reason fallen thereon, Let me be no assistant for a state, But keep a farm, and carters.
_King._ We will try it.
_Queen._ But, look, where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.
_Pol._ Away, I do beseech you both, away: I'll board him presently.[25]
[_Exeunt_ KING _and_ QUEEN, R.H.]
_Enter_ HAMLET, _reading_ (L.C.)
_Pol._ How does my good lord Hamlet?
_Ham._ (C.) Excellent well.
_Pol._ (R.) Do you know me, my lord?
_Ham._ Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.[26]
_Pol._ Not I, my lord.
_Ham._ Then I would you were so honest a man.
_Pol._ Honest, my lord!
_Ham._ Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
_Pol._ That's very true, my lord.
_Ham._ For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god, kissing carrion,----Have you a daughter?[27]
_Pol._ I have, my lord.
_Ham._ Let her not walk i'the sun: conception is a blessing; but as your daughter may conceive,--friend, look to't, look to't, look to't.
[_Goes up stage._]
_Pol._ (_Aside._) Still harping on my daughter:--yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a fishmonger.
[_Crosses to_ L.]
I'll speak to him again.--What do you read, my lord?
_Ham._ (C.) Words, words, words.
_Pol._ (L.) What is the matter, my lord?
_Ham._ Between who?
_Pol._ I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.
_Ham._ Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue[28] 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 of which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down; for yourself, sir, shall be as old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward.
[_Crosses_, L.]
_Pol._ (_Aside._) Though this be madness, yet there's method in it. Will you walk out of the air, my lord?
_Ham._ Into my grave?
[_Crosses_ R.]
_Pol._ (L.) Indeed, that is out o' the air.--How pregnant sometimes his replies[29] 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.
_Ham._ (C.) You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withall, except my life, except my life, except my life.
_Pol._ Fare you well, my lord.
[_Exit_ POLONIUS, L.H.]
_Ham._ These tedious old fools!
_Pol._ (_Without._) You go to seek the lord Hamlet; there he is.
_Ros._ Heaven save you, sir!
_Enter_ ROSENCRANTZ _and_ GUILDENSTERN (L.H.)
_Guil._ My honor'd lord!--
_Ros._ My most dear lord!--
_Ham._ My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern?
[_Crosses to_ ROSENCRANTZ.]
Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both? What news?
_Ros._ (L.) None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest.
_Ham._ (C.) Then is dooms-day near: but your news is not true. In the beaten way of friendship,[30] what make you at Elsinore?
_Ros._ To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.
_Ham._ Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you. Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, come, deal justly with me: come, come; nay, speak.
_Guil._ (R.) What should we say, my lord?
_Ham._ 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.
_Ros._ To what end, my lord?
_Ham._ That you must teach me. But let me conjure you, by the rights of our fellowship, [_taking their hands_,] by the consonancy of our youth,[31] by the obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a better proposer[32] could charge you withal, be even[33] and direct with me, whether you were sent for, or no?
_Ros._ What say you?
[_To_ GUILDENSTERN.]
_Ham._ Nay, then, I have an eye of you.[34]
[_Crosses_ R.]
[_Aside._]
--if you love me, hold not off.
_Guil._ My lord, we were sent for.
_Ham._ (_Returning_ C.) I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king and queen moult no feather.[35] 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 steril 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 man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving how express[36] and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon[37] of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me,--nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
_Ros._ My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.
_Ham._ Why did you laugh, then, when I said, _Man delights not me?_
_Ros._ To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten entertainment[38] the players shall receive from you: we coted them on the way;[39] and hither are they coming, to offer you service.
_Ham._ 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 humorous man shall end his part in peace;[40] and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt for't.[41]--What players are they?
_Ros._ Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the tragedians of the city.
_Ham._ How chances it, they travel?[42] their residence, both in reputation and profit, was better both ways. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? Are they so followed?
_Ros._ No, indeed, they are not.
_Ham._ It is not very strange; for my uncle is king of Denmark,[43] and those that would make mouths at him[44] while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little.[45] There is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out.
[_Flourish of trumpets without._]
_Guil._ There are the players.
_Ham._ Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands. You are welcome: but my uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived.
_Guil._ In what, my dear lord?
_Ham._ I am but mad north-north west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a hern-shaw.[46]
[_Crosses_ R.]
_Pol._ (_Without_, L.H.) Well be with you, gentlemen!
_Ham._ (_Crosses_ C.) Hark you, Guildenstern;--and Rosencrantz: that great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling-clouts.
_Ros._ (R.) Haply he's the second time come to them; for they say an old man is twice a child.
_Ham._ I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players; mark it.--You say right, sir: o'Monday morning; 'twas then, indeed.
_Enter_ POLONIUS (L.H.)
_Pol._ My lord, I have news to tell you.
_Ham._ My lord, I have news to tell you. When Roscius was an actor in Rome,----
_Pol._ The actors are come hither, my lord.
_Ham._ Buz, buz![47]
_Pol._ Upon my honour,----
_Ham._ Then came each actor on his ass.[48]
_Pol._ The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastorical-comical, historical-pastoral, scene indivisible, or poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light.[49] For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men.[50]
_Ham._ _O, Jephthah, judge of Israel_,--what a treasure hadst thou!
_Pol._ What a treasure had he, my lord?
_Ham._ Why,--_One fair daughter, and no more, The which he loved passing well._
_Pol._ Still harping on my daughter.
[_Aside._]
_Ham._ Am I not i'the right, old Jephthah?
_Pol._ If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I love passing well.
_Ham._ Nay, that follows not.
_Pol._ What follows, then, my lord?
_Ham._ Why, _As by lot, God wot_,[51] and then, you know, _It came to pass, As most like it was_,--The first row of the pious Chanson[52] will show you more; for look, my abridgment comes.[53]
_Enter Four or Five_ Players (L.H.)--POLONIUS _crosses behind_ HAMLET _to_ R.H.
You are welcome, masters; welcome, all: O, old friend! Why, thy face is valanced[54] since I saw thee last; Com'st thou to beard me[55] 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.[56] You are welcome. We'll e'en to't like French falconers,[57] fly at anything we see: We'll have a speech straight: Come, give us a taste of your quality;[58] come, a passionate speech.
_1st Play._ (L.H.) What speech, my lord?
_Ham._ I heard thee speak me a speech once,--but it was never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas caviare to the general:[59] but it was an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning.[60] One speech in it I chiefly loved; 'twas Æneas' tale to Dido; and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priam's slaughter: If it live in your memory, begin at this line; let me see, let me see;--
_The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast_,--'tis not so: it begins with Pyrrhus:
_The rugged Pyrrhus,--he, whose sable arms_, _Black as his purpose, did the night resemble_, _Old grandsire Priam seeks._
_Pol._ (R.) 'Fore Heaven, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good discretion.
_Ham._ (C.) So proceed you.
_1st Play._ (L.) _Anon he finds him Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword, Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls, Repugnant to command: Unequal match'd, Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide; But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword[61] The unnerved father falls. But, as we often see, against some storm, A silence in the heavens, the rack[62] stand still, The bold wind speechless, and the orb below As hush as death; anon the dreadful thunder Doth rend the region; So, after Pyrrhus' pause, A roused vengeance sets him new a work; And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall On Mars's armour, forg'd for proof eterne, With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword Now falls on Priam.-- Out, out, thou fickle Fortune!_
_Pol._ (R.) This is too long.
_Ham._ It shall to the barber's, with your beard.--Say on;--come to Hecuba.
_1st Play._ _But who, ah woe, had seen the mobled queen_--
_Ham._ The mobled queen?[63]
_Pol._ That's good; mobled queen is good.
_1st Play._ _Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames; A clout upon that head Where late the diadem stood; and, for a robe, 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._
_Pol._ Look, whether he has not turned his colour, and has tears in's eyes.--Prithee, no more.
_Ham._ (C.) 'Tis well; I'll have thee speak out the rest of this soon.--Good, my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the time: After your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live.
_Pol._ (R.) My lord, I will use them according to their desert.
_Ham._ Much better: Use every man after his desert, and who shall 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honour and dignity: The less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. Take them in.
[_Crosses to_ R.H.]
_Pol._ Come, sirs.
_Ham._ Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play to-morrow.
[_Exit_ POLONIUS _with some of the_ Players, L.H.]
Old friend
[_Crosses to_ C.]
--My good friends
[_To_ ROSENCRANTZ _and_ GUILDENSTERN.]
I'll leave you till night: you are welcome to Elsinore--can you play the murder of Gonzago?
[_Exeunt_ ROSENCRANTZ _and_ GUILDENSTERN, R.H.]
_1st Play._ Ay, my lord.
_Ham._ We'll have it to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which I would insert in't--could you not?
_1st Play._ Ay, my lord.
_Ham._ Very well.--Follow that lord; and look you mock him not.
[_Exit_ Player, L.H.]
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;[64] Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit?[65] 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[66] 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,[67] unpregnant of my cause,[68] And can say nothing; no, not for a king, Upon whose property and most dear life A damn'd defeat was made.[69] 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? Why, I should take it: for it cannot be But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall To make oppression bitter;[70] or, ere this, I should have fatted all the region kites With this slave's offal: Bloody, bawdy villain! Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless[71] 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 scold, unpack my heart with words, And fall a cursing, like a very drab, A scullion! Fye upon't! fye! About, my brains![72] 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:[73] if he do blench,[74] 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 good grounds More relative than this:[75] The play's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
[_Exit_, R.H.]
END OF ACT SECOND.
Notes
Act II
[Footnote II.1: _Polonius_,] Doctor Johnson describes Polonius as "a man bred in courts, exercised in business, stored with observation, confident in his knowledge, proud of his eloquence, and declining into dotage. A man positive and confident, because he knows his mind was once strong, and knows not that it is become weak." The idea of dotage encroaching upon wisdom will solve all the phenomena of the character of Polonius.]
[Footnote II.2: _His bulk_,] Frame.]
[Footnote II.3: _Ecstacy of love_;] _i.e._, madness of love. In this sense the word is now obsolete.]
[Footnote II.4:
_This must be known; which being kept close, might move More grief to hide than hate to utter love._]
_i.e._, this must be made known to the king, for (being kept secret) the hiding Hamlet's love might occasion more mischief to us from him and the queen, than the uttering or revealing of it will occasion hate and resentment from Hamlet.
It was the custom of Shakespeare's age, to conclude acts and scenes with a couplet, a custom which was continued for nearly a century afterwards.]
[Footnote II.5: _The understanding of himself_,] _i.e._, the just estimate of himself.]
[Footnote II.6: _Vouchsafe your rest_] Please to reside.]
[Footnote II.7: _Of us_,] _i.e._, over us.]
[Footnote II.8: _In the full bent_,] To the full stretch and range--a term derived from archery.]
[Footnote II.9: _The trail of policy_] The _trail_ is the _course_ of an animal pursued by the scent.]
[Footnote II.10: _Expostulate_] To _expostulate_ is to discuss, to put the pros and cons, to answer demands upon the question. _Expose_ is an old term of similar import.]
[Footnote II.11: _Perpend._] _i.e._, reflect, consider attentively.]
[Footnote II.12: _Most beautified Ophelia_,] Heywood, in his History of Edward VI., says "Katharine Parre, Queen Dowager to King Henry VIII., was a woman _beautified_ with many excellent virtues." The same expression is frequently used by other old authors.]
[Footnote II.13: _In her excellent white bosom_,] The ladies, in Shakespeare's time, wore pockets in the front of their stays.]
[Footnote II.14: _These, &c._] In our poet's time, the word _these_ was usually added at the end of the superscription of letters.]
[Footnote II.15: _I am ill at these numbers_;] No talent for these rhymes.]
[Footnote II.16: _O most best_,] An ancient mode of expression.]
[Footnote II.17: _Whilst this machine is to him_,] Belongs to, obey his impulse; so long as he is "a sensible warm motion," the similar expression to "While my wits are my own."]
[Footnote II.18: _And more above_,] _i.e._, moreover, besides.]
[Footnote II.19: _His solicitings_,] _i.e._, his love-making, his tender expressions.]
[Footnote II.20: _If I had played the desk, or table book_;] This line may either mean _if I had conveyed intelligence between them_, or, _known of their love, if I had locked up his secret in my own breast, as closely as it were confined in a desk or table book._]
[Footnote II.21: _Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb_;] _i.e._, connived at it.]
[Footnote II.22: _With idle sight_;] _i.e._, with indifference.]
[Footnote II.23: _Round to work_,] _i.e._, roundly, without reserve.]
[Footnote II.24: _Which done, she took the fruits of my advice_;] She took the _fruits_ of advice when she obeyed advice, the advice was then made _fruitful._--JOHNSON.]
[Footnote II.25: _I'll board him presently._] Accost, address him.]
[Footnote II.26: _You are a fishmonger._] This was an expression better understood in Shakespeare's time than at present, and no doubt was relished by the audience of the Globe Theatre as applicable to the Papists, who in Queen Elizabeth's time were esteemed enemies to the Government. Hence the proverbial phrase of _He's an honest man and eats no fish_; to signify he's a friend to the Government and a Protestant.]
[Footnote II.27: _For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god, kissing carrion,----Have you a daughter?_] _i.e._, Hamlet having just remarked that honesty is very rare in the world, adds, that since there is so little virtue, since corruption abounds everywhere, and maggots are _bred_ by the sun, which is a god, even in a dead dog, Polonius ought to take care to prevent his daughter from walking in the sun, lest she should prove _"a breeder of sinners;"_ for though _conception_ (understanding) in general be a blessing, yet as Ophelia might chance to _conceive_ (to be pregnant), it might be a calamity. Hamlet's abrupt question, _"Have you a daughter?"_ is evidently intended to impress Polonius with the belief of the Prince's madness.--MALONE.]
[Footnote II.28: _The satirical rogue_] Hamlet alludes to Juvenal, who in his 10th Satire, describes the evils of long life.]
[Footnote II.29: _How pregnant his replies_] Big with meaning.]
[Footnote II.30: _Beaten way of friendship_,] Plain track, open and unceremonious course.]
[Footnote II.31: _Rights of our fellowship and constancy of our youth_,] Habits of familiar intercourse and correspondent years.]
[Footnote II.32: _A better proposer_] An advocate of more address in shaping his aims, who could make a stronger appeal.]
[Footnote II.33: _Even_] Without inclination any way.]
[Footnote II.34: _Nay, then, I have an eye of you._] _i.e._, I have a glimpse of your meaning. Hamlet's penetration having shown him that his two friends are set over him as spies.]
[Footnote II.35: _So shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king and queen moult no feather._] Be beforehand with your discovery, and the plume and gloss of your secret pledge be in no feather shed or tarnished.]
[Footnote II.36: _Express_] According to pattern, justly and perfectly modelled.]
[Footnote II.37: _Paragon_] Model of perfection.]
[Footnote II.38: _Lenten entertainment_] _i.e._, sparing, like the entertainments given in Lent.]
[Footnote II.39: _We coted them on the way_;] To cote, is to pass by, to pass the side of another. It appears to be a word of French origin, and was a common sporting term in Shakespeare's time.]
[Footnote II.40: _The humorous man shall end his part in peace_;] The fretful or capricious man shall vent the whole of his spleen undisturbed.]
[Footnote II.41: _The lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt for't._] _i.e._, the lady shall mar the measure of the verse, rather than not express herself freely and fully.]
[Footnote II.42: _Travel?_] Become strollers.]
[Footnote II.43: _It is not very strange; for my uncle is king of Denmark_;] This is a reflection on the mutability of fortune, and the variableness of man's mind.]
[Footnote II.44: _Make mouths at him_] _i.e._, deride him by antic gestures and mockery.]
[Footnote II.45: _In little._] In miniature.]
[Footnote II.46: _I know a hawk from a hern-shaw._] A hernshaw is a heron or hern. _To know a hawk from a hernshaw_ is an ancient proverb, sometimes corrupted into _handsaw_. Spencer quotes the proverb, as meaning, _wise enough to know the hawk from its game._]
[Footnote II.47: _Buz, buz!_] Sir William Blackstone states that _buz_ used to be an interjection at Oxford when any one began a story that was generally known before.]
[Footnote II.48: _Then came each actor on his ass._] This seems to be a line of a ballad.]
[Footnote II.49: _Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light._] An English translation of the tragedies of Seneca was published in 1581, and one comedy of Plautus, viz., the Menœchme, in 1595.]
[Footnote II.50: _For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men._] The probable meaning of this passage is,--_For the observance of the rules of the Drama, while they take such liberties, as are allowable, they are the only men_--_writ_ is an old word for _writing_.]
[Footnote II.51: _As by lot, God wot_,] There was an old ballad entitled the song of Jephthah, from which these lines are probably quotations. The story of Jephthah was also one of the favourite subjects of ancient tapestry.]
[Footnote II.52: _The first row of the pious Chanson_] This expression does not appear to be very well understood. Steevens tells us that the _pious chansons_ were a kind of _Christmas carols_, containing some scriptural history thrown into loose rhymes, and sung about the streets. The _first row_ appears to mean the _first division_ of one of these.]
[Footnote II.53: _My abridgment comes._] Hamlet alludes to the players, whose approach will shorten his talk.]
[Footnote II.54: _Thy face is valanced_] _i.e._, fringed with a beard. The valance is the fringes or drapery hanging round the tester of a bed.]
[Footnote II.55: _Com'st thou to beard me_] To _beard_ anciently meant to set _at defiance_. Hamlet having just told the player that his face is valanced, is playing upon the word _beard_.]
[Footnote II.56: _By the altitude of a chopine._] A chioppine is a high shoe, or rather clog, worn by the Italians. Venice was more famous for them than any other place. They are described as having been made of wood covered with coloured leather, and sometimes _even half a yard high_, their altitude being proportioned to the rank of the lady, so that they could not walk without being supported.]
[Footnote II.57: _Like French falconers_,] The French seem to have been the first and noblest falconers in the western part of Europe. The French king sent over his falconers to show that sport to King James the First.--_See Weldon's Court of King James._]
[Footnote II.58: _Quality_;] Qualifications, faculty.]
[Footnote II.59: _Caviare to the general_;] Caviare is the spawn of fish pickled, salted, and dried. It is imported from Russia, and was considered in the time of Shakespeare a new and fashionable luxury, not obtained or relished by the vulgar, and therefore used by him to signify anything above their comprehension--general is here used for the people.]
[Footnote II.60: _As much modesty as cunning._] As much propriety and decorum as skill.]
[Footnote II.61: _Falls with the whiff and wind of his fell sword_] Our author employs the same image in almost the same phrase:
"The Grecians _fall Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword._"
_Tr. & Cress. V. 3. Tr._]
[Footnote II.62: _The rack_] The clouds or congregated vapour.]
[Footnote II.63: _The mobled queen?_] Mobled is veiled, muffled, disguised.]
[Footnote II.64: _All his visage wann'd_;] _i.e._, turned pale or wan.]
[Footnote II.65: _His whole functions suiting with forms to his conceit?_] _i.e._, his powers and faculties--the whole energies of his soul and body giving material forms to his passion, such as tone of voice, expression of face, requisite action, in accordance with the ideas that floated in his conceit or imagination.]
[Footnote II.66: _The cue_] The point--the direction.]
[Footnote II.67: _Like John a-dreams_,] Or dreaming John, a name apparently coined to suit a dreaming, stupid person; he seems to have been a well-known character.]
[Footnote II.68: _Unpregnant of my cause_,] _i.e._, not quickened with a new desire of vengeance; not teeming with revenge.]
[Footnote II.69: _Defeat was made._] Overthrow.]
[Footnote II.70: _Lack gall to make oppression bitter_;] _i.e._, lack gall to make me feel the bitterness of oppression.]
[Footnote II.71: _Kindless_] Unnatural.]
[Footnote II.72: _About, my brains!_] Wits to work.]
[Footnote II.73: _I'll tent him to the quick:_] _i.e._, probe him--search his wounds.]
[Footnote II.74: _Blench_,] Shrink, start aside.]
[Footnote II.75: _More relative than this:_] Directly applicable.]
ACT III.
SCENE I.--A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.
_Three chairs on_ L.H., _one on_ R.
_Enter_ KING _and_ QUEEN, _preceded by_ POLONIUS. OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, _and_ GIULDENSTERN, _following_ (R.H.)
_King._ (C.) And can you, by no drift of conference, Get from him why he puts on this confusion?
_Ros._ (R.) He does confess he feels himself distracted; But from what cause he will by no means speak.
_Guild._ (R.) Nor do we find him forward[1] to be sounded But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof, When we would bring him on to some confession Of his true state.
_Queen._ (R.C.) Did you assay him[2] To any pastime?
_Ros._ Madam, it so fell out, that certain players We o'er-raught on the way:[3] 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.
_Pol._ 'Tis most true: And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties To hear and see the matter.
_King._ With all my heart; and it doth much content me To hear him so inclin'd. Good gentlemen, give him a further edge, And drive his purpose on to these delights.
_Ros._ We shall, my lord.
[_Exeunt_ ROSENCRANTZ _and_ GUILDENSTERN, R.H.]
_King._ Sweet Gertrude, leave us too; For we have closely sent[4] for Hamlet hither, That he, as 'twere by accident, may here Affront Ophelia:[5] Her father and myself (lawful espials[6]), Will so bestow ourselves, that, seeing, unseen, We may of their encounter frankly judge; And gather by him, as he is behaved, If't be the affliction of his love or no That thus he suffers for.
_Queen._ (R.) I shall obey you: And for your part, Ophelia,
[OPHELIA _comes down_ L.H.]
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.
_Oph._ Madam, I wish it may.
[_Exit_ QUEEN, R.H.]
_Pol._ Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious, so please you, We will bestow ourselves. Read on this book;
[_To_ OPHELIA.]
That show of such an exercise may colour Your loneliness. We are oft to blame in this,-- 'Tis too much prov'd,[7] that, with devotion's visage And pious action, we do sugar o'er The devil himself.
_King._ O, 'tis too true! how smart A lash that speech doth give my conscience!
[_Aside._]
_Pol._ I hear him coming: let's withdraw, my lord.
[_Exeunt_ KING _and_ POLONIUS, R.H.2 E., _and_ OPHELIA, R.H.U.E.]
_Enter_ HAMLET (L.H.)
_Ham._ To be, or not to be, that is the question:[8] Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,[9] 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 wished. 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,[10] Must give us pause:[11] There's the respect[12] That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,[13] The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,[14] 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[15] With a bare bodkin?[16] Who would fardels bear,[17] To groan and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovered country, from whose bourn[18] No traveller returns,[19] 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;[20] And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; And enterprises of great pith and moment,[21] With this regard, their currents turn away, And lose the name of action.[22]--
[OPHELIA _returns._]
--Soft you now![23] The fair Ophelia:--Nymph, in thy orisons[24] Be all my sins remember'd.
_Oph._ (R.C.) Good my lord, How does your honour for this many a day?
_Ham._ (L.C.) I humbly thank you; well.
_Oph._ My lord, I have remembrances of yours, That I have longèd long to re-deliver; I pray you, now receive them.
_Ham._ No, not I; I never gave you aught.
_Oph._ My honour'd lord, you know right well you did; And, with them, words of so sweet breath compos'd As made the things more rich: their perfume lost, Take these again; for to the noble mind Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. There, my lord.
_Ham._ Ha, ha! are you honest?
_Oph._ My lord?
_Ham._ Are you fair?
_Oph._ What means your lordship?
_Ham._ That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty.[25]
_Oph._ Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?
_Ham._ 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:[26] this was some time a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once.
_Oph._ Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
_Ham._ You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock, but we shall relish of it:[27] I loved you not.
_Oph._ I was the more deceived.
_Ham._ 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[28] than I have thoughts to put them in,[29] 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?
_Oph._ At home, my lord.
_Ham._ Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool nowhere but in's own house. Farewell.
_Oph._ O, help him, you sweet heavens!
_Ham._ If thou dost marry, I'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; 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; go; go.
_Oph._ Heavenly powers, restore him!
_Ham._ I have heard of your paintings[30] too, well enough; Heaven hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another:[31] you jig, you amble, and you lisp,[32] and nickname Heaven's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance.[33] Go to, I'll no more of't; it hath made me mad.
[HAMLET _crosses to_ R.H.]
I say, we will have no more marriages: those that are married already, all but one,[34] shall live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go.
[_Exit_ HAMLET, R.H.[35]]
_Oph._ (L.) O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The expectancy and rose of the fair state,[36] The glass of fashion[37] and the mould of form,[38] The observ'd of all observers, quite, quite down! And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, That suck'd the honey of his musick vows,[39] Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh: O, woe is me, To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!
[_Exit_ OPHELIA, L.H.]
_Re-enter_ KING _and_ POLONIUS.
_King._ Love! his affections do not that way tend; Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little, Was not like madness. There's something in his soul, O'er which his melancholy sits on brood; 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?
_Pol._ It shall do well: But yet I do believe The origin and commencement of his grief Sprung from neglected love. 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;[40] And I'll be placed, so please you, in the ear Of all their conference. If she find him not,[41] To England send him; or confine him where Your wisdom best shall think.
_King._ It shall be so: Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go.
[_Exeunt_, L.H.]
_Enter_ HAMLET _and a_ Player (R.H.)
_Ham._ (C.) Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief[42] the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hands thus;[43] but use all gently: for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious perrywig-pated fellow[44] tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings,[45] who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows and noise: I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant;[46] it out-herods Herod:[47] Pray you, avoid it.
_1st Play._ (R.) I warrant your honour.
_Ham._ Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor; suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special observance, that you 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 its form and pressure.[48] Now, this overdone, or come tardy off,[49] though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of which one[50] must, in your allowance,[51] 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,[52] 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.
[_Crosses to_ R.]
_1st Play._ (L.) I hope we have reformed that indifferently[53] with us.
_Ham._ O, reform it altogether. And let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them:[54] for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators[55] to laugh too; though, in the mean time, some necessary question[56] of the play be then to be considered: that's villainous, and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go, make you ready.
[_Exit_ Player, L.H.]
_Ham._ What, ho, Horatio!
_Enter_ HORATIO (R.H.)
_Hor._ Here, sweet lord, at your service.
_Ham._ Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man As e'er my conversation cop'd withal.[57]
_Hor._ O, my dear lord.
_Ham._ Nay, do not think I flatter; For what advancement may I hope from thee, That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits, To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd? No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp; And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,[58] Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? Since my dear soul[59] 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 Has ta'en with equal thanks: and bless'd are those Whose blood and judgment[60] are so well co-mingled, 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 pr'ythee when thou seest that act a-foot, Even with the very comment of thy soul[61] Observe my uncle: if his occulted guilt[62] 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.[63] 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.[64]
[HORATIO _goes off_, U.E.L.H.]
_March. Enter_ KING _and_ QUEEN, _preceded by_ POLONIUS, OPHELIA, HORATIO, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, Lords, Ladies, _and_ Attendants. KING _and_ QUEEN _sit_ (L.H.); OPHELIA (R.H.)
_King._ (L.) How fares our cousin Hamlet?
_Ham._ (C.) Excellent, i'faith; of the cameleon's dish: I eat the air, promise-crammed: you cannot feed capons so.
_King._ I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet; these words are not mine.[65]
_Ham._ No, nor mine, now.[66] My lord,--you played once in the university, you say?[67]
[_To_ POLONIUS, L.]
_Pol._ (L.C.) That did I, my lord; and was accounted a good actor.
_Ham._ (C.) And what did you enact?
_Pol._ I did enact Julius Cæsar:[68] I was killed i'the Capitol; Brutus killed me.
_Ham._ It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there.--Be the players ready?
_Ros._ Ay, my lord; they stay upon your patience.[69]
_Queen._ Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.
[_Pointing to a chair by her side._]
_Ham._ No, good mother, here's metal more attractive.
_Pol._ O, ho! do you mark that?
[_Aside to the_ KING.]
_Ham._ Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
[_Lying down at_ OPHELIA'S _feet._][70]
_Oph._ (R.) You are merry, my lord.
_Ham._ O, your only jig-maker.[71] What should a man do but be merry? for, look you, how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within these two hours.
_Oph._ Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord.
_Ham._ So long? Nay, then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a suit of sables.[72] 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.[73]
_Oph._ What means the play, my lord?
_Ham._ Miching mallecho;[74] it means mischief.
_Oph._ But what is the argument of the play?
_Enter a_ Player _as_ Prologue (L.H.) _on a raised stage._
_Ham._ We shall know by this fellow.
_Pro._ _For us, and for our tragedy, Here stooping to your clemency, We beg your hearing patiently._
[_Exit_, L.H.]
_Ham._ Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?[75]
_Oph._ 'Tis brief, my lord.
_Ham._ As woman's love.
_Enter a_ KING _and a_ QUEEN (L.H.) _on raised stage._
_P. King._ (R.) Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart[76] gone round Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbèd ground,[77] Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands, Unite commutual in most sacred bands.
_P. Queen._ (L.) 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.
_P. King._ 'Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too; My operant powers their functions leave to do:[78] And thou shalt live in this fair world behind, Honour'd, belov'd; and, haply one as kind For husband shalt thou----
_P. Queen._ O, confound the rest! Such love must needs be treason in my breast: In second husband let me be accurst! None wed the second but who kill'd the first.
_Ham._ That's wormwood.
[_Aside to_ HORATIO, R.]
_P. King._ I do believe you think what now you speak; But what we do determine oft we break.[79] So think you thou wilt no second husband wed; But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.
_P. Queen._ Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light! Sport and repose lock from me day and night! Both here, and hence, pursue me lasting strife, If, once a widow, ever I be wife!
_P. King._ 'Tis deeply sworn.
_Ham._ If she should break it now!--
[_To_ OPHELIA.]
_P. King._ Sweet, leave me here awhile; My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile The tedious day with sleep.
[_Reposes on a bank_, R., _and sleeps._]
_P. Queen._ Sleep rock thy brain; And never come mischance between us twain!
[_Exit_, L.H.]
_Ham._ Madam, how like you this play?
_Queen._ The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
_Ham._ O, but she'll keep her word.
_King._ Have you heard the argument?[80] Is there no offence in't?
_Ham._ No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i'the world.
_King._ What do you call the play?
_Ham._ The mouse-trap.[81] Marry, how? Tropically.[82] This play is the image of a murder[83] done in Vienna: Gonzago is the Duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see anon;--'tis a knavish piece of work: but what of that? your majesty, and we that have free souls, it touches us not: Let the galled jade wince,[84] our withers[85] are unwrung.
_Enter_ LUCIANUS (L.H.)
This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king.
_Oph._ You are as good as a chorus,[86] my lord.
_Ham._ I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see the puppets dallying.[87] Begin, murderer; leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come:--
----The croaking raven Doth bellow for revenge.[88]
_Luc._ Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing; Confederate season, else no creature seeing; Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds[89] collected, With Hecat's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected, Thy natural magick and dire property, On wholesome life usurp[90] immediately. [_Pours the poison into the Sleeper's Ears._]
_Ham._ He poisons him i' the garden for his estate. His name's Gonzago: the story is extant, and written in very choice Italian: You shall see anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife.
_King._ Give me some light: away!
_All._ Lights, lights, lights!
[_Exeunt all_, R. _and_ L., _but_ HAMLET _and_ HORATIO.]
_Ham._ Why, let the strucken deer go weep,[91] The hart ungallèd play; For some must watch, while some must sleep: So runs the world away.--
O, good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand pounds. Didst perceive?
_Hor._ (R.) Very well, my lord.
_Ham._ (C.) Upon the talk of the poisoning.--
_Hor._ I did very well note him.
_Ham._ Ah, ah! come, some musick! come, the recorders!
[_Exit_ HORATIO, R.H.]
_Enter_ ROSENCRANTZ _and_ GUILDENSTERN (L.H.) HAMLET _seats himself in the chair_ (R.)
_Guil._ (L.C.) Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.
_Ham._ Sir, a whole history.
_Guil._ The king, sir,----
_Ham._ Ay, sir, what of him?
_Guil._ Is, in his retirement, marvellous distempered.[92]
_Ham._ With drink, sir?
_Guil._ No, my lord, with choler.
_Ham._ Your wisdom should show itself more rich to signify this to the doctor; for, for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps plunge him into more choler.
_Guil._ Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and start not so wildly from my affair.
_Ham._ I am tame, sir:--pronounce.
_Guil._ The queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you.
_Ham._ You are welcome.
_Guil._ Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do your mother's commandment: if not, your pardon and my return shall be the end of my business.
_Ham._ Sir, I cannot.
_Guil._ What, my lord?
_Ham._ 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,--
_Ros._ (_Crosses to_ C.) Then thus she says: Your behaviour hath struck her into amazement and admiration.[93]
_Ham._ O wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother! But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration?--impart.
_Ros._ She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you go to bed.
_Ham._ We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any further trade with us?[94]
_Ros._ My lord, you once did love me.
_Ham._ And do still, by these pickers and stealers.[95]
[_Rises and comes forward_, C.]
_Ros._ (R.) Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? you do, surely, bar the door of your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend.[96]
_Ham._ Sir, I lack advancement.
_Ros._ How can that be, when you have the voice of the king himself for your succession in Denmark?[97]
_Ham._ Ay, sir, but _While the grass grows_,--the proverb is something musty.[98]
_Enter_ HORATIO _and_ Musicians (R.H.)
O, the recorders:[99]--let me see one.--So; withdraw with you:--
[_Exeunt_ HORATIO _and_ Musicians R.H. GUILDENSTERN, _after speaking privately to_ ROSENCRANTZ, _crosses behind_ HAMLET _to_ R.H.]
Why do you go about to recover the wind of me,[100] as if you would drive me into a toil?[101]
_Guil._ (R.) O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly.[102]
_Ham._ (C.) I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe?
_Guil._ My lord, I cannot.
_Ham._ I pray you.
_Guil._ Believe me, I cannot.
_Ham._ I do beseech you.
_Ros._ (L.) I know no touch of it, my lord.
_Ham._ 'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with your fingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music.[103] Look you, these are the stops.
_Guil._ But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony; I have not the skill.
_Ham._ Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass: and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sdeath, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.[104]
[_Crosses to_ L.H.]
_Enter_ POLONIUS (R.H.)
_Pol._ (R.) My lord, the queen would speak with you, and presently.
_Ham._ (C.) Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel?
_Pol._ By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed.
_Ham._ Methinks it is like a weasel.
_Pol._ It is backed like a weasel.
_Ham._ Or like a whale?
_Pol._ Very like a whale.
_Ham._ Then will I come to my mother by and by. They fool me to the top of my bent.[105] I will come by and by.
_Pol._ I will say so.
_Ham._ By and by is easily said.
[_Exit_ POLONIUS, R.H.
Leave me, friends.
[_Exeunt_ ROSENCRANTZ _and_ GUILDENSTERN, R.H.]
'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[106] 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.
[_Exit._]
SCENE II.--A ROOM IN THE SAME.
_Enter_ KING, ROSENCRANTZ _and_ GUILDENSTERN (R.H.)
_King._ I like him not; nor stands it safe with us[107] To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you; I your commission will forthwith despatch, And he to England shall along with you: Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage; For we will fetters put upon this fear,[108] Which now goes too free-booted.
_Ros._ } } We will haste us. _Guil._}
[_Cross behind the_ KING, _and exeunt_ ROSENCRANTZ _and_ GUILDENSTERN, L.H.]
_Enter_ POLONIUS (R.H.)
_Pol._ My lord, he's going to his mother's closet: Behind the arras I'll convey myself,[109] To hear the process;[110] I'll 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.[111] Fare you well, my liege:
[POLONIUS _crosses to_ L.H.]
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed, And tell you what I know.
_King._ Thanks, dear my lord.
[_Exeunt_ POLONIUS, L.H., _and_ KING, R.H.]
SCENE III.--THE QUEEN'S CHAMBER.
_Enter_ QUEEN _and_ POLONIUS (L.H.)
_Pol._ He will come straight. Look, you lay home to him:[112] Tell him his pranks have been too broad[113] to bear with, And that your grace hath screen'd and stood between Much heat and him. I'll sconce me even here.[114] Pray you, be round with him.
_Queen._ I'll warrant you; Fear me not:--withdraw, I hear him coming.
[POLONIUS _hides himself_, L.H.U.E.
_Enter_ HAMLET (R.)
_Ham._ (R.C.) Now, mother, what's the matter?
_Queen._ (L.C.) Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
_Ham._ Mother, you have my father much offended.
_Queen._ Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
_Ham._ Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
_Queen._ Why, how now, Hamlet!
_Ham._ What's the matter now?
_Queen._ Have you forgot me?
_Ham._ No, by the rood,[115] not so: You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife; And--would it were not so!--you are my mother.
_Queen._ Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak.
_Ham._ Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge; You go not till I set you up a glass Where you may see the inmost part of you.
_Queen._ What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me? Help, help, ho!
_Pol._
(_Behind._)
What, ho! help!
_Ham._ How now! a rat?[116]
[_Draws._]
Dead, for a ducat, dead!
[HAMLET _rushes off behind the arras._]
_Pol._ (_Behind._) O, I am slain!
[_Falls and dies._]
_Queen._ O me, what hast thou done?
_Ham._
(_Returning._)
Nay, I know not: Is it the king?
_Queen._ O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!
_Ham._ A bloody deed!--almost as bad, good mother, As kill a king, and marry with his brother.
_Queen._ As kill a king!
_Ham._ Ay, lady, 'twas my word.
[_Goes off behind the arras, and returns._]
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
[_To the dead body of_ POLONIUS, _behind the arras_.]
I took thee for thy better. Leave wringing of your hands: Peace; sit you down,
[_To the_ QUEEN.]
And let me wring your heart: for so I shall, If it be made of penetrable stuff; If damnèd custom have not brazed it so,[117] That it be proof and bulwark against sense.[118]
_Queen._
(_Sits_ R.C.)
What have I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tongue In noise so rude against me?
_Ham._
(_Seated_ L.C.)
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;[119] makes marriage vows As false as dicer's oaths: O, such a deed As from the body of contraction plucks The very soul;[120] and sweet religion makes A rhapsody of words.-- Ah, me, that act!
_Queen._ Ah me, what act?
_Ham._ Look here, upon this picture, and on this, The counterfeit presentment[121] of two brothers. See, what a grace was seated on this brow; Hypérion's curls;[122] the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury[123] 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.[124] Have you eyes? Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, And batten on this moor?[125] Ha! have you eyes? You cannot call it love; for, at your age The hey-day in the blood[126] is tame, it's humble, And waits upon the judgment: And what judgment Would step from this to this? O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, If thou canst mutine,[127] in a matron's bones, To flaming youth let virtue be as wax, And melt in her own fire.
_Queen._ O, Hamlet, speak no more: Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul; And there I see such black and grainèd spots As will not leave their tinct.[128]
_Ham._ Nay, but to live In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,----[129]
_Queen._ O, speak to me no more; No more, sweet Hamlet!
_Ham._ A murderer and a villain: A slave that is not twentieth part the tythe Of your precedent lord;--a vice of kings;[130] A cutpurse of the empire and the rule; That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, And put it in his pocket![131]
_Queen._ No more!
_Ham._ A king Of shreds and patches.[132]
[_Enter_ Ghost, R.]
Save me
[_Starts from his chair_],
and hover o'er me with your wings, You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?
_Queen._ Alas, he's mad!
[_Rising._]
_Ham._ (L.) Do you not come your tardy son to chide, That, laps'd in time and passion,[133] lets go by The important acting of your dread command? O, say!
_Ghost._ (R.) 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. Speak to her Hamlet.
_Ham._ How is it with you, lady?
_Queen._ Alas, how is't with you, That you do bend your eye on vacancy, And with the incorporal air do hold discourse? Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep. O gentle son,
[_Crosses to_ HAMLET.]
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper Sprinkle cool patience.[134] Whereon do you look?
_Ham._ On him, on him!--Look you, how pale he glares! His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, Would make them capable.[135] Do not look upon me; Lest with this piteous action, you convert My stern effects:[136] then what I have to do Will want true colour; tears perchance, for blood.
_Queen._ To whom do you speak this?
_Ham._ Do you see nothing there?
_Queen._ Nothing at all; yet all that is, I see.[137]
_Ham._ Nor did you nothing hear?
_Queen._ No, nothing but ourselves.
_Ham._ Why, look you there! look, how it steals away!
[_Ghost crosses to_ L.]
My father in his habit as he lived![138] Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal!
[_Exit_ Ghost, L.H. HAMLET _sinks into chair_ C. _The_ QUEEN _falls on her knees by his side._]
_Queen._ This is the very coinage of your brain: This bodiless creation ecstasy Is very cunning in.[139]
_Ham._ Ecstasy! My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, And makes as healthful music: It is not madness That I have uttered: bring me to the test, And I the matter will re-word; which madness Would gambol from.[140] Mother, for love of grace,
_Rising._]
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass, but my madness speaks: It will but skin and film[141] the ulcerous place, Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven; Repent what's past; avoid what is to come.
_Queen._ O, Hamlet! thou hast cleft my heart in twain.
_Ham._ O, throw away the worser part of it, And live the purer with the other half. Good night: but go not to my uncle's bed;
[_Raising the_ QUEEN.]
Assume a virtue, if you have it not. Once more, good night! And when you are desirous to be bless'd, I'll blessing beg of you.[142] For this same lord,
[_Pointing to_ POLONIUS.]
I do repent: I will bestow him, and will answer well The death I gave him. So, again, good night.
[_Exit_ QUEEN, R.H.]
I must be cruel, only to be kind: Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
[_Exit_ HAMLET _behind the arras_, L.H.U.E.
END OF ACT THIRD.
Notes
Act III
[Footnote III.1: _Forward_] Disposed, inclinable.]
[Footnote III.2: _Assay him to_] Try his disposition towards.]
[Footnote III.3: _O'er-raught on the way:_] Reached or overtook.]
[Footnote III.4 _Have closely sent_] _i.e._, privately sent.]
[Footnote III.5 _May here affront Ophelia:_] To affront is to come face to face--to confront.]
[Footnote III.6 _Lawful espials_,] Spies justifiably inquisitive. From the French, _espier_.]
[Footnote III.7 _Too much prov'd_,] Found by too frequent experience.]
[Footnote III.8 _To be, or not to be, that is the question:_] Hamlet is deliberating whether he should continue to live, or put an end to his existence.]
[Footnote III.9: _Or to take arms against a sea of troubles_,] _A sea of troubles_ among the Greeks grew into a proverbial usage; so that the expression figuratively means, the troubles of human life, which flow in upon us, and encompass us round like a sea.]
[Footnote III.10: _This mortal coil_,] Coil is here used in each of its senses, that of turmoil or bustle, and that which entwines or wraps round.]
[Footnote III.11: _Must give us pause:_] _i.e._, occasion for reflection.]
[Footnote III.12: _There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life_;] The _consideration_ that makes the evils of life so long submitted to, lived under.]
[Footnote III.13: _The whips and scorns of time_,] Those sufferings of body and mind, those stripes and mortifications to which, in its _course_, the life of man is subjected.]
[Footnote III.14: _Contumely_,] Contemptuousness, rudeness.]
[Footnote III.15: _His quietus make_] Quietus means the official discharge of an account: from the Latin. Particularly in the Exchequer accounts, where it is still current. Chiefly used by authors in metaphorical senses.]
[Footnote III.16: _A bare bodkin?_] Bodkin was an ancient term for a small dagger. In the margin of Stowe's Chronicle it is said that Cæsar was slain with _bodkins_.]
[Footnote III.17: _Who would fardels bear_,] Fardel is a burden. Fardellus, low Latin.]
[Footnote III.18: _From whose bourn_] _i.e._, boundary.]
[Footnote III.19: _No traveller returns_,] The traveller whom Hamlet had seen, though he appeared in the same habit which he had worn in his life-time, was nothing but a shadow, "invulnerable as the air," and, consequently, _incorporeal_. The Ghost has given us no account of the region from whence he came, being, as he himself informed us, "forbid to tell the secrets of his prison-house."--MALONE.]
[Footnote III.20: _Thus conscience does make cowards of us all_;] A state of doubt and uncertainty, a conscious feeling or apprehension, a misgiving "How our audit stands."]
[Footnote III.21: _Of great pith and moment_,] _i.e._, of great vigour and importance.]
[Footnote III.22:
_With this regard, their currents turn away_, _And lose the name of action._]
From this sole consideration have their drifts diverted, and lose the character and name of enterprise.]
[Footnote III.23: _Soft you now!_] A gentler pace! have done with lofty march!]
[Footnote III.24: _Nymph, in thy orisons_] _i.e._, in thy prayers. Orison is from _oraison_--French.]
[Footnote III.25: _If you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty._] _i.e._, if you really possess these qualities, chastity and beauty, and mean to support the character of both, your honesty should be so chary of your beauty, as not to suffer a thing so fragile to entertain discourse, or to be parleyed with.
The lady interprets the words otherwise, giving them the turn best suited to her purpose.]
[Footnote III.26: _His likeness:_] Shakespeare and his contemporaries frequently use the personal for the neutral pronoun.]
[Footnote III.27: _Inoculate our old stock, but we shall relish of it:_] So change the original constitution and properties, as that no smack of them shall remain. "Inoculate our stock" are terms in gardening.]
[Footnote III.28: _With more offences at my beck_] That is, always ready to come about me--at my beck and call.]
[Footnote III.29: _Than I have thoughts to put them in, &c._] "To put a thing into thought," Johnson says, is "to think on it."]
[Footnote III.30: _I have heard of your paintings_,] These destructive aids of beauty seem, in the time of Shakespeare, to have been general objects of satire.]
[Footnote III.31: _Heaven hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another:_] _i.e._, Heaven hath given you one face, and you disfigure his image by making yourself another.]
[Footnote III.32: _You jig, you amble, and you lisp_,] This is an allusion to the manners of the age, which Shakespeare, in the spirit of his contemporaries, means here to satirise.]
[Footnote III.33: _Make your wantonness your ignorance._] You mistake by _wanton_ affectation, and pretend to mistake by _ignorance_.]
[Footnote III.34: _All but one shall live_;] _One_ is the king.]
[Footnote III.35: _To a nunnery, go. Exit Hamlet._] There is no doubt that Hamlet's attachment to Ophelia is ardent and sincere, but he treats her with apparent severity because he is aware that Ophelia has been purposely thrown in his way; that spies are about them; and that it is necessary for the preservation of his life, to assume a conduct which he thought would be attributed to madness only.]
[Footnote III.36: _The expectancy and rose of the fair state_,] The first hope and fairest flower. "The gracious mark o' the land."]
[Footnote III.37: _Glass of fashion_] Speculum consuetudinis.--CICERO.
[Footnote III.38: _The mould of form_,] The cast, in which is shaped the only perfect form.
[Footnote III.39: _Musick vows_,] Musical, mellifluous.
[Footnote III.40: _Be round with him_;] _i.e._, plain with him--without reserve.
[Footnote III.41: _If she find him not_,] Make him not out.
[Footnote III.42: _As lief_] As willingly.]
[Footnote III.43: _Thus_;] _i.e._, thrown out thus.]
[Footnote III.44: _Robustious perrywig-pated fellow_] This is a ridicule on the quantity of false hair worn in Shakespeare's time, for wigs were not in common use till the reign of Charles the Second. _Robustious_ means making an extravagant show of passion.]
[Footnote III.45: _The ears of the groundlings_,] The meaner people appear to have occupied the pit of the theatre (which had neither floor nor benches in Shakespeare's time), as they now sit in the upper gallery.]
[Footnote III.46: _O'er-doing Termagant_;] The Crusaders, and those who celebrated them, confounded Mahometans with Pagans, and supposed Mahomet, or Mahound, to be one of their deities, and Tervagant or Termagant, another. This imaginary personage was introduced into our old plays and moralities, and represented as of a most violent character, so that a ranting actor might always appear to advantage in it. The word is now used for a scolding woman.]
[Footnote III.47: _It out-herods Herod:_] In all the old moralities and mysteries this personage was always represented as a tyrant of a very violent temper, using the most exaggerated language. Hence the expression.]
[Footnote III.48: _The very age and body of the time its form and pressure._] _i.e._, to delineate exactly the manners of the age, and the particular humours of the day--_pressure_ signifying resemblance, as in a print.]
[Footnote III.49: _Come tardy off_,] Without spirit or animation; heavily, sleepily done.]
[Footnote III.50: _The censure of which one_] _i.e._, the censure of one of which.]
[Footnote III.51: _Your allowance_,] In your approbation.]
[Footnote III.52: _Not to speak it profanely_,] _i.e._, _irreverently_, in allusion to Hamlet's supposition that God had not made such men, but that they were only the handy work of God's assistants.]
[Footnote III.53: _Indifferently_] In a reasonable degree.]
[Footnote III.54: _Speak no more them is set down for them:_] Shakespeare alludes to a custom of his time, when the clown, or low comedian, as he would now be called, addressing the audience during the play, entered into a contest of raillery and sarcasm with such spectators as chose to engage with him.]
[Footnote III.55: _Barren spectators_] _i.e._, dull, unapprehensive spectators.]
[Footnote III.56: _Question_] Point, topic.]
[Footnote III.57: _Cop'd withal._] Encountered with.]
[Footnote III.58: _Pregnant hinges of the knee_,] _i.e._, bowed or bent: ready to kneel where _thrift_, that is, thriving, or emolument may follow sycophancy.]
[Footnote III.59: _Since my dear soul_] _Dear_ is out of which arises the liveliest interest.]
[Footnote III.60: _Whose blood and judgment_] Dr. Johnson says that according to the doctrine of the four humours, _desire_ and _confidence_ were seated in the blood, and judgment in the phlegm, and the due mixture of the humours made a perfect character.]
[Footnote III.61: _The very comment of thy soul_] The most intense direction of every faculty.]
[Footnote III.62: _Occulted guilt do not itself unkennel_] Stifled, secret guilt, do not develope itself.]
[Footnote III.63: _As Vulcan's stithy._] A stithy is the smith's shop, as stith is the anvil.]
[Footnote III.64: _In censure of his seeming._] In making our estimate of the appearance he shall put on.]
[Footnote III.65: _I have nothing with this answer; these words are not mine._] _i.e._, they grow not out of mine: have no relation to anything said by me.]
[Footnote III.66: _No, nor mine, now._] They are now anybody's. Dr. Johnson observes, "a man's words, says the proverb, are his own no longer than while he keeps them unspoken."]
[Footnote III.67: _You played once in the university, you say?_] The practice of acting Latin plays in the universities of Oxford and Cambridge is very ancient, and continued to near the middle of the last century.]
[Footnote III.68: _I did enact Julius Cæsar:_] A Latin play on the subject of Cassar's death, was performed at Christ-church, Oxford, in 1582.]
[Footnote III.69: _They stay upon your patience._] _Patience_ is here used for _leisure_.]
[Footnote III.70: _Lying down at Ophelia's feet._] To lie at the feet of a mistress during any dramatic representation, seems to have been a common act of gallantry.]
[Footnote III.71: _Jig-maker_,] Writer of ludicrous interludes. _A jig_ was not in Shakespeare's time only a dance, but a ludicrous dialogue in metre; many historical ballads were also called _jigs_.]
[Footnote III.72: _For I'll have a suit of sables._] Wherever his scene might be, the customs of his country were ever in Shakespeare's thoughts. A suit trimmed with sables was in our author's own time the richest dress worn by men in England. By the Statute of Apparel, 24 Henry VIII., c. 13, (_article furres_), it is ordained, that none under the degree of an _Earl_ may use _sables_.]
[Footnote III.73: _He must build churches, then._] Such benefactors to society were sure to be recorded by means of the feast day on which the patron saints and founders of churches were commemorated in every parish. This custom has long since ceased.]
[Footnote III.74: _Miching mallecho_;] To _mich_ is a provincial word, signifying _to lie hid_, or _to skulk_, or _act by stealth_. It was probably once generally used. Mallecho is supposed to be corrupted from the Spanish _Malechor_, which means a poisoner.]
[Footnote III.75: _The posy of a ring?_] Such poetry as you may find engraven on a ring.]
[Footnote III.76: _Phoebus' cart_] A chariot was anciently called a cart.]
[Footnote III.77: _Tellus' orbèd ground_,] _i.e._, the globe of the earth. Tellus is the personification of the earth, being described as the first being that sprung from Chaos.]
[Footnote III.78: _My operant powers their functions leave to do:_] _i.e._, my active energies cease to perform their offices.]
[Footnote III.79: _What we do determine, oft we break._] Unsettle our most fixed resolves.]
[Footnote III.80: _The argument?_] The subject matter.]
[Footnote III.81: _The mouse-trap._]
He calls it the mouse-trap, because it is the thing, In which he'll catch the conscience of the king.]
[Footnote III.82: _Tropically._] _i.e._, figuratively.]
[Footnote III.83: _The image of a murder_,] _i.e._, the lively portraiture, the correct and faithful representation of a murder, &c.]
[Footnote III.84: _Let the galled jade wince_,] A proverbial saying.]
[Footnote III.85: _Our withers are unwrung._] Withers is the joining of the shoulder bones at the bottom of the neck and mane of a horse. _Unwrung_ is _not pinched_.]
[Footnote III.86: _You are as good as a chorus_,] The persons who are supposed to behold what passes in the acts of a tragedy, and sing their sentiments between the acts.
The use to which Shakespeare converted the chorus, may be seen in King Henry V.]
[Footnote III.87: _I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see the puppets dallying._] This refers to the interpreter, who formerly sat on the stage at all _puppet shows_, and explained to the audience. _The puppets dallying_ are here made to signify to the agitations of Ophelia's bosom.]
[Footnote III.88:
_The croaking raven_ _Doth bellow for revenge._]
_i.e._, begin without more delay; for the raven, foreknowing the deed, is already croaking, and, as it were, calling out for the revenge which will ensue.]
[Footnote III.89: _Midnight weeds_] The force of the epithet _midnight_, will be best displayed by a corresponding passage in Macbeth:
"Root of hemlock, _digg'd i' the dark_."]
[Footnote III.90: _Usurp_] Encroach upon.]
[Footnote III.91: _Let the strucken deer go weep_,] Shakespeare, in _As you like it_, in allusion to the wounded stag, speaks of the _big round tears_ which _cours'd one another down his innocent nose in piteous chase_. In the 13th song of Drayton's Polyolbion, is a similar passage--"_The harte weepeth at his dying; his tears are held to be precious in medicine._"]
[Footnote III.92: _Marvellous distempered._] _i.e._, discomposed.]
[Footnote III.93: _Admiration._] _i.e._, wonder.]
[Footnote III.94: _Trade with us?_] _i.e._ Occasion of intercourse.]
[Footnote III.95: _By these pickers and stealers._] _i.e._, by these hands. The phrase is taken from the Church catechism, where, in our duty to our neighbour, we are taught to keep our hands from _picking and stealing_.]
[Footnote III.96: _You do freely bar the door of your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend._] By your own act you close the way against your own ease, and the free discharge of your griefs, if you open not the source of them to your friends.]
[Footnote III.97: _You have the voice of the king himself for your succession in Denmark?_] Though the crown was elective, yet regard was paid to the recommendation of the preceding prince, and preference given to royal blood, which, by degrees, produced hereditary succession.]
[Footnote III.98: _"While the grass grows,"--the proverb is something musty._] The proverb is, "_While the grass grows, the steed starves._" Hamlet alludes to his own position, while waiting for his succession to the throne of Denmark. A similar adage is, "_A slip between the cup and the lip._"]
[Footnote III.99: _Recorder._] _i.e._ A kind of flute, or pipe.]
[Footnote III.100: _Why do you go about to recover the wind of me_,] Equivalent to our more modern saying of _Get on the blind side._]
[Footnote III.101: _Into a toil?_] _i.e._, net or snare.]
[Footnote III.102: _If my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly._] If my sense of duty have led me too far, it is affection and regard for you that makes the carriage of that duty border on disrespect.]
[Footnote III.103: _Govern these ventages--and it will discourse most eloquent music._] Justly order these vents, or air-holes, and it will breathe or utter, &c.]
[Footnote III.104: _Though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me._] A _fret_ is a stop or key of a musical instrument. Here is, therefore, a play upon the words. Though you cannot fret, stop, or vex, you cannot play or impose upon me.]
[Footnote III.105: _They fool me to the top of my bent._] To the height; as far as they see me _incline_ to go: an allusion to the utmost flexure of a bow.]
[Footnote III.106: _Bitter business_] _i.e._, shocking, horrid business.]
[Footnote III.107: _Stands it safe with us_] Is it _consistent_ with our security.]
[Footnote III.108: _This fear_,] Bugbear.]
[Footnote III.109: _Behind the arras I'll convey myself_,] The arras-hangings, in Shakespeare's time, were hung at such a distance from the walls, that a person might easily stand behind them unperceived.]
[Footnote III.110: _To hear the process_;] The course of the conversation.]
[Footnote III.111: _The speech of vantage._] _i.e._, opportunity or advantage of secret observations.]
[Footnote III.112: _Lay home to him:_] Pointedly and closely charge him.]
[Footnote III.113: _Pranks too broad_] Open and bold.]
[Footnote III.114: _I'll 'sconce me even here._] 'Sconce and ensconce are constantly used figuratively for _hide._ In "The Merry Wives of Windsor," Falstaff says, "I will _ensconce_ me behind the arras."]
[Footnote III.115: _By the rood_,] _i.e._, the cross or crucifix.]
[Footnote III.116: _How now! a rat?_] This is an expression borrowed from the History of Hamblet.]
[Footnote III.117: _Have not braz'd it so_,] _i.e._, soldered with brass.]
[Footnote III.118: _Proof and bulwark against sense._] Against all feeling.]
[Footnote III.119: _Takes off the rose From the fair forehead of an innocent love, And sets a blister there_;] _i.e._, takes the clear tint from the brow of unspotted, untainted innocence. "True or honest as the skin between one's brows" was a proverbial expression, and is frequently used by Shakespeare.]
[Footnote III.120: _As from the body of contraction plucks The very soul_;] Annihilates the very principle of contracts. Contraction for marriage contract.]
[Footnote III.121: _The counterfeit presentment_] _i.e._, picture or mimic representation.]
[Footnote III.122: _Hypérion's curls_;] Hyperion is used by Spenser with the same error in quantity.]
[Footnote III.123: _A station like the herald Mercury_] Station is attitude--act of standing.]
[Footnote III.124:
_Like a mildew'd ear_, _Blasting his wholesome brother._]
This alludes to Pharaoh's dream, in the 41st chapter of Genesis.]
[Footnote III.125: _Batten on this moor?_] Batten is to feed rankly.]
[Footnote III.126: _Hey-day in the blood_] This expression is occasionally used by old authors.]
[Footnote III.127: _Thou canst mutine_] _i.e._, rebel.]
[Footnote III.128: _As will not leave their tinct._] So dyed _in grain_, that they will not relinquish or lose their tinct--are not to be discharged. In a sense not very dissimilar he presently says,
"Then what I have to do Will _want true colour_."]
[Footnote III.129: _An enseamed bed._] _i.e._, greasy bed of grossly fed indulgence.]
[Footnote III.130: _A vice of kings_;] _i.e._, a low mimick of kings. The vice was the fool of the old moralities or dramas, who was generally engaged in contests with the devil, by whom he was finally carried away. Dr. Johnson says the modern Punch is descended from the vice.]
[Footnote III.131:
_From a shelf the precious diadem stole_, _And put it in his pocket!_]
In allusion to the usurper procuring the crown as a common pilferer or thief, and not by open villainy that carried danger with it.]
[Footnote III.132: _A king of shreds and patches._] This is said, pursuing the idea of the _vice of kings_. The vice being dressed as a fool, in a coat of party-coloured patches.]
[Footnote III.133: _Laps'd in time and passion_,] That having suffered time to slip, and passion to cool, &c. It was supposed that nothing was more offensive to apparitions than the neglect to attach importance to their appearance, or to be inattentive to their admonitions.]
[Footnote III.134: _Cool patience._] _i.e._, moderation.]
[Footnote III.135: _Make them capable._] Make them intelligent--capable of conceiving.]
[Footnote III.136: _My stem effects:_] _i.e._, change the nature of my purposes, or what I mean to effect.]
[Footnote III.137: _Nothing at all; yet all that is, I see._] It is in perfect consistency with the belief that all spirits were not only naturally invisible, but that they possessed the power of making themselves visible to such persons only as they pleased.]
[Footnote III.138: _My father, in his habit as he lived!_] In the habit he was accustomed to wear when living.]
[Footnote III.139:
_This bodiless creation ecstasy_ _Is very cunning in._]
_i.e._, "Such shadows are the weak brain's forgeries." Ecstasy in this place, as in many others, means a temporary alienation of mind--a fit.]
[Footnote III.140: _Gambol from._] Start away from.]
[Footnote III.141: _Skin and film_,] Cover with a thin skin.]
[Footnote III.142:
_And when you are desirous to be bless'd_, _I'll blessing beg of you_]
When you are desirous to receive a blessing from heaven (which you cannot, seriously, till you reform), I will beg to receive a blessing from you.]
ACT IV.
SCENE I.--A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.
_Enter_ KING _and_ QUEEN, _from_ (R.H.) _centre._
_King._ There's matter in these sighs, these profound heaves: You must translate:[1] 'tis fit we understand them. How does Hamlet?
_Queen._ 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,[2] kills The unseen good old man.
_King._ O heavy deed! It had been so with us, had we been there: Where is he gone?
_Queen._ To draw apart the body he hath kill'd.
_King._ 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!
_Enter_ ROSENCRANTZ _and_ GUILDENSTERN (L.H.)
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.
[ROSENCRANTZ _and_ GUILDENSTERN _cross to_ R.]
I pray you, haste in this.
[_Exeunt_ ROSENCRANTZ _and_ GUILDENSTERN, R.H.]
Go, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends; And let them know, both what we mean to do, And what's untimely done.
[_Exit_ QUEEN, R.C.]
How dangerous is it that this man goes loose! Yet must not we put the strong law on him: He's lov'd 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.[3]
_Enter_ ROSENCRANTZ (R.)
How now! what hath befallen?
_Ros._ Where the dead body is bestowed, my lord, We cannot get from him.
_King._ But where is he?
_Ros._ Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure.
_King._ Bring him before us.
_Ros._ Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord.
_Enter_ HAMLET, GUILDENSTERN, _and_ Attendants (R.H.)
_King._ (C.) Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?
_Ham._ (R.) At supper.
_King._ At supper? Where?
_Ham._ Not where he eats, but where he is eaten: a certain convocation of politick worms[4] are e'en at him.
_King._ Where's Polonius?
_Ham._ In Heaven; send thither to see: if your messenger find him not there, seek him i'the other place yourself. But, indeed, if you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby.
_King._ Go seek him there.
[_To_ GUILDENSTERN.]
_Ham._ He will stay till you come.
[_Exit_ GUILDENSTERN, R.H.]
_King._ Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety, Must send thee hence: Therefore prepare thyself; The bark is ready, and the wind at help,[5] For England.
_Ham._ For England!
_King._ Ay, Hamlet.
_Ham._ Good.
_King._ So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes.
_Ham._ I see a cherub that sees them. But, come; for England!--Farewell, dear mother.
_King._ Thy loving father, Hamlet.
_Ham._ My mother: Father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England.
[_Exit_, R.H.]
_King._ Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard; Away! for everything is seal'd and done.
[_Exeunt_ ROSENCRANTZ _and_ Attendants, R.H.]
And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught, Thou may'st not coldly set[6] Our sovereign process;[7] which imports at full, By letters conjuring to that effect,[8] The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England; For thou must cure me: 'Till I know 'tis done, Howe'er my haps,[9] my joys will ne'er begin.
[_Exit_ KING, L.H.]
_Enter_ QUEEN _and_ HORATIO (R. _centre._)
_Queen._ ----I will not speak with her.
_Hor._ She is importunate; indeed, distract: 'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
_Queen._ Let her come in.
[_Exit_ HORATIO, R.C.]
_Re-enter_ HORATIO, _with_ OPHELIA (R. _centre._)
_Oph._ Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
_Queen._ How now, Ophelia!
_Oph._ (C.)
[_Singing._]
_How should I your true love know_ _From another one?_ _By his cockle hat and staff_, _And his sandal shoon._[10]
_Queen._ (L.C.) Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
_Oph._ Say you? nay, pray you, mark.
[_Sings._]
_He is dead and gone, lady_, _He is dead and gone_; _At his head a grass-green turf_, _At his heels a stone._
_Enter the_ KING (L.H.)
_Queen._ Nay, but, Ophelia,----
_Oph._ Pray you, mark.
[_Sings._]
_White his shroud as the mountain-snow_, _Larded all with sweet flowers_;[11] _Which bewept to the grave did go_ _With true-love showers._
_King._ How do you, pretty lady?
_Oph._ Well, Heaven 'ield you![12]
(_Crosses to the_ KING.)
They say the owl was a baker's daughter.[13] We know what we are, but know not what we may be.
_King._ Conceit upon her father.[14]
_Oph._ Pray, you, let us have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, say you this:
_To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day_, _All in the morning betime_, _And I, a maid at your window_, _To be your Valentine:_
_King._ Pretty Ophelia!
_Oph._ Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end on't:
_Then up he rose, and don'd his clothes_, _And dupp'd[15] the chamber door_; _Let in the maid, that out a maid_ _Never departed more._
[_Crosses to_ R.H.]
_King._ (L.) How long hath she been thus?
_Oph._ (R.) 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_, R.C.]
_King._ Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you.
[_Exit_ HORATIO, _through centre_ R.]
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!
_Enter_ MARCELLUS (R. _centre._)
_King._ What is the matter?
_Mar._ Save yourself, my lord: The young Laertes, in a riotous head,[16] O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him lord; They cry, _Choose we: Laertes shall be king!_ Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds, _Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!_
[_Noise within_, R.C.]
_Enter_ LAERTES, _armed_; Danes _following_ (R. _centre._)
_Laer._ Where is this king?--Sirs, stand you all without.
_Dan._ No, let's come in.
_Laer._ I pray you, give me leave.
_Dan._ We will, we will.
[_They retire without_, R.H.]
_Laer._ O, thou vile king, Give me my father.
_Queen_
(_Interposing._)
Calmly, good Laertes.
_Laer._ (R.) 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.[17]
_King._ (L.) 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,[18] That treason can but peep to what it would, Acts little of his will. Let him go, Gertrude.
[QUEEN _obeys._]
_Laer._ Where is my father?
_King._ Dead.
_Queen._ But not by him.
_King._ Let him demand his fill.
_Laer._ How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with: To hell, allegiance! To this point I stand, That both the worlds I give to negligence,[19] Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd Most throughly for my father.
_King._ Who shall stay you!
_Laer._ My will, not all the world's:[20] And, for my means, I'll husband them so well, They shall go far with little.
_King._ Good Laertes, That I am guiltless of your father's death, And am most sensible in grief[21] for it, It shall as level to your judgment 'pear As day does to your eye.
_Hor._
(_Without._)
Oh, poor Ophelia!
_King._ Let her come in.
_Enter_ OPHELIA (R.C.), _fantastically dressed with Straws and Flowers._
_Laer._
(_Goes up_ L.C.)
O rose of May! Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia! O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits Should be as mortal as an old man's life?
_Oph._ (R.C.)
_They bore him barefac'd on the bier_; _And on his grave rain many a tear,--_
Fare you well, my dove!
_Laer._
(_Coming down_ R.)
Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge, It could not move thus.
_Oph._ You must sing, _Down-a-down,[22] an you call him a-down-a._ O, how well the wheel becomes it![23] It is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter.
_Laer._ This nothing's more than matter.
_Oph._ There's rosemary, that's for remembrance;[24] pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies,[25] that's for thoughts.
_Laer._ A document in madness; thoughts and remembrance fitted.
_Oph._ There's fennel for you,
(_crosses to the_ KING _on_ L.H.)
and columbines:[26] there's rue for you;
(_turns to the_ QUEEN, _who is_ R.C.)
and here's some for me:--we may call it herb of grace o'Sundays:[27]--you may wear your rue with a difference.[28]--There's a daisy:[29]--I would give you some violets,[30] but they withered all when my father died:--They say he made a good end,----
_For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy--_[31]
_Laer._ (R.) Thought and affliction,[32] passion, hell itself, She turns to favour and to prettiness.
_Oph._
_And will he not come again?_ _And will he not come again?_ _No, no, he is dead_, _Gone to his death-bed_, _He never will come again._
_His beard was white as snow_, _All flaxen was his poll:_ _He is gone, he is gone_, _And we cast away moan:_ _Heaven 'a mercy on his soul!_
And of all christian souls, I pray Heaven. Heaven be wi' you.
[_Exit_ OPHELIA, R.C., QUEEN _following._]
_Laer._ Do you see this, O Heaven?
_King._ (L.C.) Laertes, I must commune with your grief,[33] Or you deny me right. Be you content to lend your patience to us, And we shall jointly labour with your soul To give it due content.
_Laer._ (R.C.) Let this be so; His means of death, his obscure funeral,-- No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,[34] No noble rite nor formal ostentation,-- Cry to be heard,[35] as 'twere from heaven to earth, That I must call't in question.
_King._ So you shall; And where the offence is let the great axe fall.[36] How now! what news?
_Enter_ BERNARDO (R.H.C.)
_Ber._ (C.) Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: This to your majesty; this to the Queen.
_King._ From Hamlet! who brought them?
_Ber._ Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not.
_King._ Laertes, you shall hear them.-- Leave us.
[_Exit_, L.H.C.] [Reads.]
_High and mighty, You shall know I am set naked on your kingdom.[37] 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.
What should this mean? Are all the rest come back? Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?
_Laer._ (R.) Know you the hand?
_King._ (L.) 'Tis Hamlet's character:[38] _Naked,--_
And in a postscript here, he says, _alone_. Can you advise me?
_Laer._ I am 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 diddest thou_.
_King._ If it be so, Laertes, Will you be rul'd by me?
_Laer._ Ay, my lord; So you will not o'er-rule me to a peace.
_King._ To thine own peace. Some two months since, Here was a gentleman of Normandy, He made confession of[39] you; And gave you such a masterly report, For art and exercise in your defence,[40] And for your rapier most especially, That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed, If one could match you: 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 you. Now, out of this,----
_Laer._ What out of this, my lord?
_King._ Laertes, was your father dear to you? Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, A face without a heart?
_Laer._ Why ask you this?
_King._ 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 o'er your heads; he, being remiss,[41] Most generous, and free from all contriving, Will not peruse the foils:[42] so that, with ease, Or with a little shuffling, you may choose A sword unbated,[43] and, in a pass of practice,[44] Requite him for your father.
_Laer._ I will do't: And, for the 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[45] so rare, Collected from all simples[46] 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.
_King._ (L.) Let's further think of this; We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings,[47] When in your motion[48] 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;[49] whereon but sipping, If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,[50] Our purpose may hold there. But stay, what noise?
_Enter_ QUEEN (R.C.)
_Queen._ (C.) One woe doth tread upon another's heel, So fast they follow: Your sister's drown'd, Laertes.
_Laer._ (R.) Drown'd! O, where?
_Queen._ There is a willow grows aslant a brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; Therewith fantastick garlands did she make Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples;[51] There, on the pendent boughs her cornet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; When down her weedy trophies, and herself, Fell in the weeping brook.
_Laer._ I forbid my tears: But yet It is our trick:[52] nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will: when these are gone, The woman will be out.[53] Adieu, my lord: I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, But that this folly drowns it.[54]
[_Exeunt._ C.]
END OF ACT FOURTH.
Notes
Act IV
[Footnote IV.1: _Translate:_] Interpret.]
[Footnote IV.2: _In this brainish apprehension_,] Distempered, brainsick mood.]
[Footnote IV.3: _Where the offender's scourge is weigh'd, But never the offence._] When an offender is popular, the people never consider what his crime was, but they scrutinise his punishment.]
[Footnote IV.4: _Politick worms_] _i.e._, artful, cunning worms.]
[Footnote IV.5: _The wind at help_,] _i.e._, ready.]
[Footnote IV.6: _May'st not coldly set_] Set is to value or estimate. "Thou may'st not _set little by it_, or _estimate it lightly_."]
[Footnote IV.7: _Our sovereign process:_] _i.e._, our royal design.]
[Footnote IV.8: _By letters conjuring to that effect_,] The verb to conjure, in the sense of to supplicate, was formerly accented on the first syllable.]
[Footnote IV.9: _Howe'er my haps_,] Chances of fortune.]
[Footnote IV.10: _His sandal shoon._] Shoon is the old plural of shoe. The verse is descriptive of a pilgrim. While this kind of devotion was in favour, love intrigues were carried on under that mask.]
[Footnote IV.11: _Larded with sweet flowers_;] _i.e._, Garnished with sweet flowers.]
[Footnote IV.12: _Heaven 'ield you._] Requite; yield you recompence.]
[Footnote IV.13: _The owl was a baker's daughter._] This is in reference to a story that was once prevalent among the common people of Gloucestershire.]
[Footnote IV.14: _Conceit upon her father._] Fancies respecting her father.]
[Footnote IV.15: _Don'd and dupp'd_] _To don_, is to _do on_, or _put on_, as _doff_ is to _do off_, or _put off_. To _dupp_ is to _do up_, or _lift up_ the latch.]
[Footnote IV.16: _In a riotous head_,] The tide, strongly flowing, is said to pour in with a great _head_.]
[Footnote IV.17: _The chaste unsmirched brow of my true mother._] _Unsmirched_ is unstained, not defiled.]
[Footnote IV.18: _Doth hedge a king_,] The word _hedge_ is used by the gravest writers upon the highest subjects.]
[Footnote IV.19: _Both the worlds I give to negligence_,] I am careless of my present and future prospects, my views in this life, as well as that which is to come.]
[Footnote IV.20: _My will, not all the world's:_] _i.e._, by my will as far as my will is concerned, not all the world shall stop me; and, as for my means, I'll husband them so well, they shall go far, though really little.]
[Footnote IV.21: _Sensible in grief_] Poignantly affected with.]
[Footnote IV.22: _You must sing Down-a-down_,] This was the burthen of an old song, well known in Shakespeare's time.]
[Footnote IV.23: _How well the wheel becomes it!_] This probably means that the song or charm is well adapted to those who are occupied at spinning at the wheel.]
[Footnote IV.24: _There's rosemary, that's for remembrance_;] Rosemary was anciently supposed to strengthen the memory, and was carried at funerals and wore at weddings. It was also considered the emblem of fidelity in lovers; and at weddings it was usual to dip the rosemary in the cup, and drink to the health of the new married couple.]
[Footnote IV.25: _There is pansies_,] _i.e._, a little flower called _heart's-ease_. Pansies in French signifies _thoughts_.]
[Footnote IV.26: _There's fennel for you, and columbines:_] Fennel was considered an emblem of flattery, and columbine was anciently supposed to be a _thankless flower_; signifying probably that the courtiers flattered to get favours, and were thankless after receiving them. Columbine was emblematical of forsaken lovers.]
[Footnote IV.27: _There's rue for you; and here's some for me:--we may call it herb of grace o' Sundays:_] Probably a quibble is meant here, as _rue_ anciently signified the same as _ruth_, _i.e._, sorrow. In the common dictionaries of Shakespeare's time, it was called _herb of grace_. Ophelia wishes to remind the Queen of the sorrow and contrition she ought to feel for her unlawful marriage; and that she may wear her rue with peculiar propriety on Sundays, when she solicits pardon for the crime which she has so much occasion to _rue_ and repent of.--MALONE.]
[Footnote IV.28: _You may wear your rue with a difference._] _i.e._, to distinguish it from that worn by Ophelia, herself: because her tears flowed from the loss of a father--those of the Queen ought to flow for her guilt.]
[Footnote IV.29: _There's a daisy:_] A daisy signified a warning to young women, not to trust the fair promises of their lovers.]
[Footnote IV.30: _I would give you some violets_,] Violets signified faithfulness.]
[Footnote IV.31: _For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy,--_] Part of an old song.]
[Footnote IV.32: _Thought and affliction_,] Thought here, as in many other places, means melancholy.]
[Footnote IV.33: _I must commune with your grief_,] _i.e._, confer, discuss, or argue with.]
[Footnote IV.34: _No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones_,] Not only the sword, but the helmet, gauntlet, spurs, and tabard, (_i.e._, a coat whereon the armorial ensigns were anciently depicted, from whence the term _coat_ of armour), are hung over the grave of every knight.]
[Footnote IV.35: _Cry to be heard_,] All these multiplied incitements are things which cry, &c.]
[Footnote IV.36: _Let the great axe fall._] _i.e._, the axe that is to be laid to the root.]
[Footnote IV.37: _Naked on your kingdom_,] _i.e._, unprovided and defenceless.]
[Footnote IV.38: _'Tis Hamlet's character_,] Peculiar mode of shaping his letters.]
[Footnote IV.39: _Made confession of_] Acknowledged.]
[Footnote IV.40: _In your defence_,] _i.e._, "in your art and science of defence."]
[Footnote IV.41: _He, being remiss_,] _i.e._, unsuspicious, not cautious.]
[Footnote IV.42: _Peruse the foils_;] Closely inspect them.]
[Footnote IV.43: _A sword unbated_,] Not blunted, as foils are by a button fixed to the end.]
[Footnote IV.44: _In a pass of practice_,] This probably means some favourite pass, some trick of fencing, with which Hamlet was inexperienced, and by which Laertes may be sure of success.]
[Footnote IV.45: _No cataplasm_,] _i.e._, poultice--a healing application.]
[Footnote IV.46: _Collected from all simples_,] _i.e._, from all ingredients in medicine.]
[Footnote IV.47: _On your cunnings_,] _i.e._, on your dexterity.]
[Footnote IV.48: _In your motion_] Exercise, rapid evolutions.]
[Footnote IV.49: _For the nonce_;] _i.e._, present purpose or design.]
[Footnote IV.50: _Venom'd stuck_,] Thrust. Stuck was a term of the fencing school.]
[Footnote IV.51: _Long purples_,] One of the names for a species of orchis, a common English flower.]
[Footnote IV.52: _Our trick:_] Our course, or habit; a property that clings to, or makes a part of, us.]
[Footnote IV.53:
_When these are gone_, _The woman will be out._]
When these tears are shed, this womanish passion will be over.]
[Footnote IV.54: _But that this folly drowns it._] _i.e._, my rage had flamed, if this flood of tears had not extinguished it.]
ACT V.
SCENE I.--A CHURCH YARD.
_Enter two_ Clowns,[1] _with spades, &c._ (L.H.U.E.)
_1st Clo._ (R.) Is she to be buried in christian burial that wilfully seeks her own salvation?
_2nd Clo._ (L.) I tell thee she is; therefore make her grave straight:[2] the crowner[3] hath set on her, and finds it christian burial.
_1st Clo._ How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defence?
_2nd Clo._ Why, 'tis found so.
_1st Clo._ It must be _se offendendo_;[4] it cannot be else. For here lies the point: If I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act: and an act hath three branches; it is, to act, to do, and to perform:[5] argal,[6] she drowned herself wittingly.
_2nd Clo._ Nay, but hear you, goodman delver.[7]
_1st Clo._ 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,[8] 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.
_2nd Clo._ But is this law?
_1st Clo._ Ay, marry is't; crowner's-quest law.[9]
_2nd Clo._ Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out of christian burial.
_1st Clo._ Why, there thou say'st:[10] And the more pity that great folks should have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves, more than their even christian.[11] Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers: they hold up Adam's profession.
_2nd Clo._ Was he a gentleman?[12]
_1st Clo._ He was the first that ever bore arms. I'll put another question to thee: if thou answerest me not to the purpose, confess thyself----[13]
_2nd Clo._ Go to.
_1st Clo._ What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?
_2nd Clo._ The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.
_1st Clo._ I like thy wit well, in good faith: the gallows does well; But how does it well? it does well to those that do ill: now, thou dost ill to say the gallows is built stronger than the church: argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come.
_2nd Clo._ Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a carpenter?
_1st Clo._ Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.[14]
_2nd Clo._ Marry, now I can tell.
_1st Clo._ To't.
_2nd Clo._ Mass, I cannot tell.
_1st Clo._ Cudgel thy brains no more about it,[15] 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, and fetch me a stoup of liquor.[16]
[_Exit_ 2nd Clown, L.H.U.E.]
_Enter_ HAMLET _and_ HORATIO (L.H.U.E.)
First Clown _digs and sings._
_In youth, when I did love, did love_,[17] _Methought, it was very sweet_, _To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove_ _O, methought, there was nothing meet._
_Ham._
(_Behind the grave._)
Has this fellow no feeling of his business, he sings at grave-making?
_Hor._
(_On_ HAMLET'S R.)
Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.
_Ham._ 'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.[18]
_1st Clo._ _But age, with his stealing steps_, _Hath clawed me in his clutch_, _And hath shipped me into the land_, _As if I had never been such._
[_Throws up a skull._]
_Ham._ That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: How the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! This might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent Heaven, might it not?
_Hor._ It might, my lord.
[_Gravedigger throws up bones._]
_Ham._ Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at loggats with them?[19] mine ache to think on't.
_1st Clo._
[_Sings._]
_A pick-axe and a spade, a spade_, _For and a shrouding sheet:_[20] _O, a pit of clay for to be made_ _For such a guest is meet._
[_Throws up a skull._
_Ham._ There's another: Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddits now, his quillets,[21] his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? Why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce[22] with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery? I will speak to this fellow.--Whose grave's this, sirrah?
_1st Clo._ Mine, sir.--
[_Sings._]
_O, a pit of clay for to be made_ _For such a guest is meet._
_Ham._ (R. _of grave._) I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.
_1st Clo._ You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not yours: for my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine.
_Ham._ Thou dost lie in't, to be in't, and say it is thine: 'tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest.
_1st. Clo._ 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again, from me to you.
_Ham._ What man dost thou dig it for?
_1st Clo._ For no man, sir.
_Ham._ What woman, then?
_1st Clo._ For none, neither.
_Ham._ Who is to be buried in't?
_1st Clo._ One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.
_Ham._ How absolute the knave is![23] we must speak by the card,[24] or equivocation will undo us,
[_To_ HORATIO, R.]
How long hast thou been a grave-maker?
_1st Clo._ Of all the days i'the year, I came to't that day that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.
_Ham._ How long's that since?
_1st Clo._ Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: It was the very day that young Hamlet was born,[25] he that is mad, and sent into England.
_Ham._ Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?
_1st Clo._ Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits there; or, if he do not, 'tis no great matter there.
_Ham._ Why?
_1st Clo._ 'Twill not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.
_Ham._ How came he mad?
_1st Clo._ Very strangely, they say.
_Ham._ How strangely?
_1st Clo._ 'Faith, e'en with losing his wits.
_Ham._ Upon what ground?
_1st Clo._ Why, here in Denmark: I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years.
_Ham._ How long will a man lie i'the earth ere he rot?
_1st Clo._ 'Faith, if he be not rotten before he die, he will last you some eight year or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year.
_Ham._ Why he more than another?
_1st Clo._ Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade, that he will keep out water a great while; and your water is a sore decayer of your ill-begotten dead body. Here's a skull now, hath lain in the earth three-and-twenty years.
_Ham._ Whose was it?
_1st Clo._ O, a mad fellow's it was: Whose do you think it was?
_Ham._ Nay, I know not.
_1st Clo._ A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! he poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester.
_Ham._ This?
[_Takes the skull._]
_1st Clo._ E'en that.
_Ham._ 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. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! 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[26] she must come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing.
_Hor._ What's that, my lord?
_Ham._ Dost thou think Alexander look'd o'this fashion i'the earth?
_Hor._ E'en so.
_Ham._ And smelt so? pah!
[_Gives the skull to HORATIO, who returns it to the grave-digger._]
_Hor._ E'en so, my lord.
_Ham._ To what base uses may we return, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till it find it stopping a bung-hole?
_Hor._ 'Twere to consider too curiously,[27] to consider so.
_Ham._ No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: As thus; Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to 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?
Imperial Cæsar,[28] dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away: O, that the earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw![29]
But soft! but soft! aside: Here comes the king, The queen, the courtiers: Who is this they follow? And with such maimèd rites?[30] This doth betoken The corse they follow did with desperate hand Fordo its own life:[31] 'Twas of some estate.[32] Couch we awhile, and mark.
[_Retiring with_ HORATIO, R.H.]
_Enter_ Priests, &c., _in procession; the corpse of_ OPHELIA, LAERTES _and_ Mourners _following_; KING, QUEEN, _their_ Trains, _&c._
_Laer._
(L. _of the grave._)
What ceremony else?
_Ham._ (R.) That is Laertes, A very noble youth.
_1st Priest._
(R. _of the grave._)
Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd As we have warranty: Her death was doubtful; And, but that great command o'ersways the order,[33] She should in ground unsanctified have lodged Till the last trumpet; for charitable prayers, Shards,[34] flints, and pebbles, should be thrown on her: Yet here she is allowed her virgin crants,[35] Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home Of bell and burial.[36]
_Laer._ Must there no more be done?
_1st Priest._ No more be done: We should profane the service of the dead To sing a _requiem_,[37] and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls.
_Laer._ O, from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest,[38] A ministering angel shall my sister be, When thou liest howling.
_Ham._ What, the fair Ophelia!
_Queen._
(_Behind the grave_, C. _with the_ KING.)
Sweets to the sweet: Farewell!
[_Scattering flowers._]
I hop'd 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.
_Laer._ O, treble woe Fall ten times treble on that cursed head, Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense[39] Depriv'd thee of!--Hold off the earth a while, Till I have caught her once more in mine arms:
[_Leaps into the grave._]
Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead, Till of this flat a mountain you have made, To o'ertop old Pelion,[40] or the skyish head Of blue Olympus.
_Ham._
(_Advancing._)
What is he whose grief Bears such an emphasis?--whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wand'ring stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers?--this is I, Hamlet the Dane.
_Laer._
(L., _leaping from the grave._)
The devil take thy soul!
[_Grappling with him._]
_Ham._ (R.C.) Thou pray'st not well. I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat; For, though I am not splenetive and rash, Yet have I in me something dangerous, Which let thy wisdom fear: Hold off thy hand!
_King._ Pluck them asunder.
_Queen._ (C.) Hamlet, Hamlet!
_Ham._ (R.C.) Why, I will fight with him upon this theme Until my eyelids will no longer wag.
_Queen._ O my son, what theme?
_Ham._ I lov'd Ophelia: forty thousand brothers Could not, with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum.--What wilt thou do for her?
_Queen._ O, he is mad, Laertes.
_Ham._ Come, show me what thou'lt do: Wou'lt weep? wou'lt fight? wou'lt fast? wou'lt tear thyself? I'll do't.--Dost thou come here to whine? To outface me[41] 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,[42] Singeing his pate against the burning zone, Make Ossa[43] like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth, I'll rant as well as thou.
_Queen._ This is mere madness: And thus a while the fit will work on him; Anon, as patient as the female dove, When that her golden couplets are disclos'd,[44] His silence will sit drooping.
_Ham._ Hear you, sir; What is the reason that you use me thus? I lov'd you ever: But it is no matter; Let Hercules himself do what he may, The cat will mew,[45] and dog will have his day.
[_Exit_, R.H.]
_King._ (C.) I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him.
[_Exit_ HORATIO, R.H.]
Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son,
[_Exit_ QUEEN, _attended_, R.H.]
Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech;[46]
[_To_ LAERTES.]
We'll put the matter to the present push.-- This grave shall have a living monument:[47] An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; Till then, in patience our proceeding be.
[_The characters group round the grave._]
SCENE II.--HALL IN THE CASTLE.
_Enter_ HAMLET _and_ HORATIO (R.H.)
_Ham._ But I am very sorry, good Horatio, That to Laertes I forgot myself; For by the image of my cause,[48] I see The portraiture of his.
_Hor._ Peace! who comes here?
_Enter_ OSRIC (L.H.)
_Osr._ Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.
_Ham._ (C.) I humbly thank you, sir.--Dost know this water-fly?[49]
_Hor._ (R.) No, my good lord.
_Ham._ Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a vice to know him.
_Osr._ (L.) Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should impart a thing to you from his majesty.
_Ham._ I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of spirit.[50] Your bonnet to his right use; 'tis for the head.
_Osr._ I thank your lordship, 'tis very hot.
_Ham._ No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly.
_Osr._ It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.
_Ham._ But yet, methinks it is very sultry and hot,[51] for my complexion,--
_Osr._ 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,--
_Ham._ I beseech you, remember----
[HAMLET _moves him to put on his hat._]
_Osr._ Nay, good my lord; for mine ease, in good faith.[52] 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:[53] Indeed, to speak feelingly of him,[54] he is the card or calendar of gentry,[55] for you shall find in him the continent of what part a gentleman would see.[56]
_Ham._ What imports the nomination of this gentleman?[57]
_Osr._ Of Laertes?
_Ham._ Of him, sir.
_Osr._ Sir, you are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is--
_Ham._ I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him in excellence; but, to know a man well, were to know himself.[58]
_Osr._ I mean, sir, for his weapon.
_Ham._ What is his weapon?
_Osr._ Rapier and dagger.
_Ham._ That's two of his weapons: but, well.
_Osr._ The king, sir, hath wagered with him six Barbary horses: against the which he has imponed,[59] as I take it, six French rapiers and poignards, with their assigns, as girdle, hangers,[60] or 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.[61]
_Ham._ What call you the carriages?
_Osr._ The carriages, sir, are the hangers.
_Ham._ The phrase would be more german[62] to the matter, if we could carry cannon by our sides.
_Osr._ The king, sir, hath laid, that in a dozen passes between yourself and him, he shall not exceed you three hits; and it would come to immediate trial, if your lordship would vouchsafe the answer.[63]
_Ham._ How if I answer no?[64]
_Osr._ I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial.
_Ham._ Sir, it is 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 if I can; if not, I will gain nothing but my shame and the odd hits.
_Osr._ Shall I deliver you so?
_Ham._ To this effect, sir; after what flourish your nature will.
_Osr._ I commend my duty to your lordship. [_Exit_, L.H.]
_Hor._ (R.) You will lose this wager, my lord.
_Ham._ (C.) I do not think so; since he went into France, I have been in continual practice; I shall win at the odds.[65] But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no matter.
_Hor._ Nay, good my lord.
_Ham._ It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of gain-giving,[66] as would, perhaps, trouble a woman.
_Hor._ If your mind dislike any thing, obey it:[67] I will forestall their repair hither, and say, you are not fit.
_Ham._ Not a whit, we defy augury: there is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow.
[_Exeunt_, L.H.]
SCENE III.--ROOM IN THE CASTLE.
KING _and_ QUEEN, _on a dais_, LAERTES (R.), LORDS (R.), LADIES (L.), OSRIC (R.) _and_ Attendants, _with Foils, &c., discovered_ (R.H.); _Tables_ (R. _and_ L.)-- _Flourish of Trumpets._
_Enter_ HAMLET _and_ HORATIO (L.H.)
_King._ Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me.
_Ham._ (_offering his hand to_ LAERTES) Give me your pardon, sir: I have done you wrong; But pardon it, as you are a gentleman. Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil Free me so far in your most generous thoughts, That I have shot my arrow o'er the house, And hurt my brother.
_Laer._ (R.) I am satisfied in nature, Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most To my revenge. I do receive your offer'd love like love, And will not wrong it.
_Ham._ I embrace it freely: And will this brother's wager frankly play. Give us the foils.
_Laer._ Come, one for me.
_Ham._ I'll be your foil, Laertes: in mine ignorance Your skill shall, like a star i'the darkest night, Stick fiery off indeed.[68]
_Laer._ You mock me, sir.
_Ham._ No, by this hand.
_King._ Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet, You know the wager?
_Ham._ Very well, my lord; Your grace hath laid the odds o'the weaker side.
_King._ I do not fear it; I have seen you both: But since he's better'd,[69] we have therefore odds.
_Laer._ This is too heavy, let me see another.
_Ham._ This likes me well. These foils have all a length?
_Osr._ Ay, my good lord.
_King._ Set me the stoups of wine[70] upon that table.--
[Pages _exeunt_ R. _and_ L.]
If Hamlet give the first or second hit, Or quit[71] in answer to 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,[72] Richer than that which four successive kings In Denmark's crown have worn.
[Pages _return with wine._]
Give me the cup; And let the kettle[73] to the trumpet speak, The trumpet to the cannoneer without, The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth, _Now the king drinks to Hamlet._--Come, begin; And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.
_Ham._ Come on, sir.
_Laer._ Come, my lord.
[_They play._]
_Ham._ One.
_Laer._ No.
_Ham._ Judgment.
_Osr._ A hit, a very palpable hit.
_Laer._ Well:--again.
_King._ Stay; give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine;
[_Drops poison into the goblet._]
Here's to thy health.
[_Pretends to drink._] [_Trumpets sound; and cannon shot off within._]
Give him the cup.
_Ham._ I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile.
[Page _places the goblet on table_, L.]
Come. Another hit; What say you?
[_They play._]
_Laer._ A touch, a touch, I do confess.
_King._ Our son shall win.
_Queen._ The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.[74]
_Ham._ Good madam!----
[_Trumpets sound._]
_King._ Gertrude, do not drink.
_Queen._ I have, my lord; I pray you, pardon me.
_King._ It is the poison'd cup; it is too late.
[_Aside._]
_Laer._ I'll hit him now And yet it is almost against my conscience.
[_Aside._]
_Ham._ Come, for the third, Laertes: You do but dally; I pray you, pass with your best violence; I am afeard you make a wanton of me.[75]
_Laer._ Say you so? come on.
[_They play._]
[LAERTES _wounds_ HAMLET; _then, in scuffling they change Rapiers, and_ HAMLET _wounds_ LAERTES.]
_King._ Part them; they are incensed.
_Ham._ Nay, come, again.
[_The_ QUEEN _falls back in her chair._]
_Osr._
(_Supporting_ LAERTES, R.)
Look to the queen there, ho!
_Hor._
(_Supporting_ HAMLET, L.)
How is it, my lord?
_Osr._ How is't, Laertes?
_Laer._ Why, as a woodcock to my own springe,[76] Osric; I am justly killed with mine own treachery.
_Ham._ How does the queen?
_King._ She swoons to see them bleed.
_Queen._ No, no, the drink, the drink,--O, my dear Hamlet,-- The drink, the drink! I am poison'd.
[_The_ QUEEN _is conveyed off the stage by her attendant_ Ladies, _in a dying state_, L.H.U.E.]
_Ham._ O villainy! Ho! let the doors be lock'd: Treachery! seek it out.
[LAERTES _falls._]
_Laer._ (R.) 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's life; The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, Unbated and envenom'd:[77] the foul practice[78] 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.
_Ham._ The point Envenom'd too! Then, venom, to thy work. Here, thou incestuous, murd'rous, damnèd Dane, Follow my mother.
[_Stabs the_ KING, _who is borne away by his attendants, mortally wounded_, R.H.U.E.]
_Laer._ He is justly serv'd; Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet: Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me!
[_Dies._]
_Ham._ (C.) Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee. 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,[79] Is strict in his arrest), O, I could tell you,-- But let it be. Horatio, Report me and my cause aright To the unsatisfied.
_Hor._ (L.) Never believe it: I am more an antique Roman than a Dane: Here's yet some liquor left.
[_Seizing the goblet on table_, L.]
_Ham._ As thou'rt a man,-- Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have it.
[_Dashes the goblet away._]
O good Horatio, what a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me![80] If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, Absènt thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.-- O, I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit;[81] The rest is silence.
[_Dies_, C., OSRIC _on his_ R., _and_ HORATIO _on his_ L.]
_Dead March afar off._
_Curtain slowly descends._
THE END.
Notes
Act V
[Footnote V.1: _Enter two Clowns_,] These characters are not in the original story, but are introduced by Shakespeare.]
[Footnote V.2: _Make her grave straight:_] _i.e._, straightways, forthwith.]
[Footnote V.3: _The crowner_] A corruption of coroner.]
[Footnote V.4: _It must be se offendendo_;] A confusion of things as well as of terms: used for _se defendendo_, a finding of the jury in justifiable homicide.]
[Footnote V.5: _To act, to do, and to perform:_] Warburton says, this is ridicule on scholastic divisions without distinction, and of distinctions without difference.]
[Footnote V.6: _Argal_,] A corruption of the Latin word, _ergo, therefore_.]
[Footnote V.7: _Delver._] _i.e._, a digger, one that opens the ground with a spade.]
[Footnote V.8: _If the man go to this water,--it is, will he, nill he, he goes_,] Still floundering and confounding himself. He means to represent it as a _wilful_ act, and of course without any mixture of _nill_ or nolens in] it. Had he gone, as stated, whether he _would or not_, it would not have been of his own accord, or his act.]
[Footnote V.9: _Crowner's-quest law._] Crowner's-quest is a vulgar corruption of coroner's inquest.]
[Footnote V.10: _Why, there thou say'st_] Say'st something, speak'st to the purpose.]
[Footnote V.11: _More than their even christian._] An old English expression for fellow-christian.]
[Footnote V.12: _Was he a gentleman?_] Mr. Douce says this is intended as a ridicule upon heraldry.]
[Footnote V.13: _Confess thyself----_] Admit, or by acknowledgment pass sentence upon thyself, as a simpleton? "Confess, and be hanged," was a proverbial sentence.]
[Footnote V.14: _Tell me that, and unyoke._] Unravel this, and your day's work is done, your team may then unharness.]
[Footnote V.15: _Cudgel thy brains no more about it_;] _i.e._, beat about thy brains no more.]
[Footnote V.16: _A stoup of liquor._] A stoup is a jug.]
[Footnote V.17: _In youth, when I did love, did love._] The three stanzas sung here by the Grave-Digger, are extracted, with a slight variation, from a little poem called _The Aged Lover renounceth Love_, written by Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, who was beheaded in 1547. The song is to be found in Dr. Percy's _Reliques of Ancient English Poetry_.]
[Footnote V.18: _The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense._] _i.e._, its "palm less dulled or staled."]
[Footnote V.19: _But to play at loggats with them?_] A _loggat_ is a small _log_, or piece of wood; a diminutive from _log_. Hence _loggats_, as the name of an old game among the common people, and one of those forbidden by a statute of the 33rd of Henry VIII. A stake was fixed into the ground, and those who played threw _loggats_ at it.]
[Footnote V.20: _For and a shrouding sheet:_] For and is an ancient expression, answering to _and eke, and likewise_.]
[Footnote V.21: _Where be his quiddits now, his quillets_,] Quiddits are subtilties; quillets are nice and frivolous distinctions.]
[Footnote V.22: _Knock him about the sconce_] _i.e._, head.]
[Footnote V.23: _How absolute the knave is!_] Peremptory, strictly and tyrannously precise.]
[Footnote V.24: _We must speak by the card_,] The _card_ is the mariner's compass. Properly the paper on which the points of the wind are marked. Hence, _to speak by the card_, meant to speak with great exactness; true to a point.]
[Footnote V.25: _The very day that young Hamlet was born_,] It would appear by this that Hamlet was thirty years old, and knew Yorick well, who had been dead twenty-two years.]
[Footnote V.26: _Favour_] Feature, countenance, or complexion.]
[Footnote V.27: _'Twere to consider too curiously_,] Be pressing the argument with too much critical nicety, to dwell upon mere possibilities.]
[Footnote V.28: _Imperial Cæsar_,] In some edition it is _imperious_ Cæsar. Imperious was a more ancient term, signifying the same as imperial.]
[Footnote V.29: _The winter's flaw!_] _i.e._, winter's blast.]
[Footnote V.30: _Maimèd rites?_] Curtailed, imperfect.]
[Footnote V.31: _Fordo its own life:_] Destroy.]
[Footnote V.32: _'Twas of some estate._] _i.e._, of rank or station.]
[Footnote V.33: _Command o'ersways the order_,] The course which ecclesiastical rules prescribe.]
[Footnote V.34: _Shards_,] _i.e._, broken pots or tiles.]
[Footnote V.35: _Virgin crants_,] _i.e._, virgin garlands. Nares, in his Glossary, says that _crants_ is a German word, and probably Icelandic.]
[Footnote V.36: _Bringing home of bell and burial_,] Conveying to her last home with these accustomed forms of the church, and this sepulture in consecrated ground.]
[Footnote V.37: _A requiem_,] A mass performed in Popish churches for the rest of the soul of a person deceased.]
[Footnote V.38: _Churlish priest_,] Churlish is, figuratively, ill-humoured, ill-bred, uncourtly, "rustic and rude."]
[Footnote V.39: _Ingenious sense_] Life and sense.]
[Footnote V.40: _To o'ertop old Pelion_,] Pelion is one of a lofty range of mountains in Thessaly. The giants, in their war with the gods, are said to have attempted to heap Ossa and Olympus on Pelion, in order to scale Heaven.]
[Footnote V.41: _Outface me_] _i.e._, brave me.]
[Footnote V.42: _Our ground_,] The earth about us.]
[Footnote V.43: _Ossa_] A celebrated mountain in Thessaly, connected with Pelion, and in the neighbourhood of Mount Olympus.]
[Footnote V.44: _Her golden couplets are disclos'd_,] To disclose, was anciently used for to _hatch_. A pigeon never lays more than two eggs.]
[Footnote V.45: _The cat will mew, and dog, &c._] "Things have their appointed course; nor have we power to divert it," may be the sense here conveyed.]
[Footnote V.46: _Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech_;] Let the consideration of the topics then urged, confirm your resolution taken of quietly waiting events a little longer.]
[Footnote V.47: _This grave shall have a living monument:_] There is an ambiguity in this phrase. It either means an _endurable_ monument such as will outlive time, or it darkly hints at the impending fate of Hamlet.]
[Footnote V.48: _Image of my cause_,] Representation or character.]
[Footnote V.49: _Dost know this water-fly?_] Dr. Johnson remarks that a _water-fly_ skips up and down upon the surface of the water, without any apparent purpose or reason, and is thence the proper emblem of a busy trifler.]
[Footnote V.50: _All diligence of spirit._] "With the whole bent of my mind." A happy phraseology; in ridicule, at the same time that it was in conformity with the style of the airy, affected insect that was playing round him.]
[Footnote V.51: _Very sultry and hot_,] Hamlet is here playing over the same farce with Osric which he had formerly done with Polonius. The idea of this scene is evidently suggested by Juvenal.]
[Footnote V.52: _For mine ease, in good faith._] From contemporary authors this appears to have been the ordinary language of courtesy in our author's own time.]
[Footnote V.53: _An absolute--a great showing:_] A finished gentleman, full of various accomplishments, of gentle manners, and very imposing appearance.]
[Footnote V.54: _To speak feelingly of him_,] With insight and intelligence.
[Footnote V.55: _Card or calendar of gentry_,] The card by which a gentleman is to direct his course; the calendar by which he is to choose his time, that what he does may be both excellent and seasonable.]
[Footnote V.56: _The continent of what part a gentleman would see._] The word continent in this sense is frequently used by Shakespeare; _i.e._, you shall find him _containing_ and _comprising_ every quality which a _gentleman_ would desire to _contemplate_ for imitation.]
[Footnote V.57: _What imports the nomination, &c._] What is the object of the introduction of this gentleman's name?]
[Footnote V.58: _I dare not--lest I should compare--were to know himself._] No one can have a perfect conception of the measure of another's excellence, unless he shall himself come up to that standard. Dr. Johnson says, I dare not pretend to know him, lest I should pretend to an equality: no man can completely know another, but by knowing himself, which is the utmost extent of human wisdom.]
[Footnote V.59: _He has imponed_,] _i.e._, to lay down as a stake or wager. Impono.]
[Footnote V.60: _Hangers_,] That part of the girdle or belt by which the swords were suspended was, in our poet's time, called the _hangers_.]
[Footnote V.61: _Very dear to fancy--very liberal conceit._] Of exquisite invention, well adapted to their hilts, and in their conception rich and high fashioned.]
[Footnote V.62: _More german_] More a-kin.]
[Footnote V.63: _Vouchsafe the answer._] Condescend to answer, or meet his wishes.]
[Footnote V.64: _How if I answer, no?_] Reply.]
[Footnote V.65: _I shall win at the odds._] I shall succeed with the advantage that I am allowed.]
[Footnote V.66: _Gain-giving_,] Misgiving.]
[Footnote V.67: _If your mind, &c._] If you have any presentiment of evil, yield to its suggestion.]
[Footnote V.68: _Like a star i'the darkest night, stick fiery off_] Be made by the strongest relief to stand brightly prominent.]
[Footnote V.69: _Better'd_,] He stands higher in estimation.]
[Footnote V.70: _Stoups of wine_] Flagons of wine.]
[Footnote V.71: _Quit in answer_] Make the wager _quit_, or so far drawn.]
[Footnote V.72: _An union shall he throw_,] _i.e._, a fine pearl. To swallow a pearl in a draught seems to have been equally common to royal and mercantile prodigality. It may be observed that pearls were supposed to possess an exhilarating quality. It was generally thrown into the drink as a compliment to some distinguished guest, and the King in this scene, under the pretence of throwing a pearl into the cup, drops some poisonous drug into the wine.]
[Footnote V.73: _Kettle_] _i.e._, kettle drum.]
[Footnote V.74: _The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet._] _i.e._, drinks to your success.]
[Footnote V.75: _You make a wanton of me._] _i.e._, you trifle with me as if you were playing with a child.]
[Footnote V.76: _As a woodcock to my own springe._] I have run into a springe like a woodcock, and into such a noose or trap as a fool only would have fallen into; one of my own setting.]
[Footnote V.77: _Unbated, and envenom'd:_] _i.e._, having a sharp point envenomed with poison.]
[Footnote V.78: _The foul practice_] _i.e._, the wicked trick which I have practised.]
[Footnote V.79: _Fell sergeant, death_,] _i.e._, cruel sergeant--sergeant being an officer of the law.]
[Footnote V.80: _Live behind me!_] Survive me.]
[Footnote V.81: _Quite o'ercrows my spirit_;] Overpowers, exults over; no doubt an image taken from the lofty carriage of a victorious cock.]