The Dramatic Works and Poems of William Shakespeare

And with a larger tether may he walk,
Thau may be given you: In few, Ophelia,
Do not believe his vows: for they are brokers,
Not of that dye which their investments show,
But mere implorators of unholy suits,
Breathing like sanctified, and pious bonds,
The better to beguile. This is for all,-
I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
Have you so slander any moment's leisure,
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.

SCENE IV. The Platform.

[Exeunt.

Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS.
Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.
Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air.
Ham. What hour now?

Hor.

I think it lacks of twelve. Mur. No, it is struck. Hor. Indeed? I heard it not; it then draws near the season,

Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.
[A Flourish of Trumpets, and Ordnance shot
off, within.

What does this mean, my lord?
Ham. The king doth wake to-night, and takes
his rouse,
[reels;
Keeps wassel, and the swaggering up-spring
And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,
The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out
The triumph of his pledge.

Hor.

Is it a custom?

Ham. Ay, marry, is't:
But to my mind,--though I am native here,
And to the manner born,-it is a custom
More honour'd in the breach than the observ
This heavy-headed revel, east and west, [ance.
Makes us traduc'd, and tax'd of other nations:
They clepe us, drunkards, and, with swinish
phrase

Soil our addition; and, indeed it takes
From our achievements, though perform'd at
The pith and marrow of our attribute. [height,
So, oft it chances in particular men,
That, for some vicious mole of nature in them,
As, in their birth (wherein they are not guilty,
Since nature cannot choose his origin),
By the o'ergrowth of some complexion,
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason; |
Or by some habit that too much o'erleavens
The form of plausive manners;-that these
men,-

Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect;
Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,--
Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace,
As infinite as man may undergo,)
Shall in the general censure take corruption
From that particular fault: The dram of base
Doth all the noble substance often doubt
To his own scandal.

Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws.
To cast thee up again! What may this mean,
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous: and we fools of nature,
So horribly to shake our disposition,
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
Say,why is this? wherefore? what should we do?
Ilor. It beckons you to go away with it,
As if it some impartment did desire
To you alone.

Mar.

Look, with what courteous action It waves you to a more removed ground: 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; And, for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself?

It waves me forth again;-I'll follow it.
Hor. What, if it tempt you toward the flood,
my lord,

Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff,
That beetles o'er his base into the sea?
And there assume some other horrible form,
Which might deprive your sovereignty of rea-
And draw you into madness? think of it: [son,
The very place puts toys of desperation,
Without more motive, into every brain,
That looks so many fathoms to the sea,
And hears it roar beneath.

Still am I call'd;-unhand me, gentlemen;-[Breaking from them. By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets I say, away :-Go on, I'll follow thee. [me:— [Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET. Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination. Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him. Hor. Have after:-To what issue will this come? [mark.

Mar. Something is rotten in the state of DenHor. Heaven will direct it. Mar. Nay, let's follow him. [Exeunt. SCENE V. A more remote Part of the Platform. Re-enter Ghost and HAMLET. Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? speak, I II Ghost. Mark me. [go no further. My hour is almost come, When I to sulphurous and tormenting lanes Must render up myself.

Hom. Ghost.

Ham.

I will.

Alas, poor ghost!

Ghost. Pityme not, but lend thy serious hearing To what I shall unfold.

Ham.
Speak, I am hound to hear.
Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt
Ham. What?
[hear.

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,
Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature,
Are burnt and porg'd away. But that I am forbid
To tell the s.crets of my prisen house,

I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young
blood;
[spheres;
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:
But this eternal blazon must not be

To ears of flesh and flood.-List, list, O list!-
If thou didst ever thy dear father love,-
Ham. O heaven!

Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural
Ham. Murder?
[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 should'st thou be than the fat weed
That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,
Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet,
hear:

'Tis given out, that sleeping in mine orchard,
Aserpent stung me; so thewhole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process 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 prophetick soul! my uncle!
Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate
beast,

With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,|
(O wicked wit, and gifts, that have the power
So to seduce!) won to his shameful lust
The will of my most seeming virtuous queen:
O, Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!
From me, whose love was of that dignity,
That it went hand in hand even with the vow
I made to her in marriage; and to decline
Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor
To those of mine!

But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,
Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven;
So lust, though to a radiaut angel link'd,
Will sate itself in a celestial bed,

And prey on garbage.

But soft! methinks I scent the morning air;
Brief let me be:-Sleeping within mine orchard,
My custom always of the afternoon,
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,
And in the porches of 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;
And with a sudden vigour, it doth posset
And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine;
And a most instant tetter bark'd about,
Most lazar-like with vile and loathsome crust,
All my smooth body.

Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand,
Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despatch'd;
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd;
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head:
O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damned incest,
But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act,

[Exit.

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 glowworm shows the matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire;
Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me.
Ham. O all you host of heaven! O earth! What
else?
[my heart!
And shall I couple hell?-O fye!-Hold, hold
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me stilly up!-Remember thee?
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe. Remember thee:
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
That youth and observation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven,
O most pernicious woman!

O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
My tables,-meet it is, I set it down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least, I am sure, it may be so in Denmark:
[Writing.

So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word;
It is, Adieu, adieu! remember me.
I have sworn't.

Hor. [Within.] My lord, my lord,-
Mar. Within.] Lord Hamlet,-
Hor. [Within.]

Ham.

Heaven secure him!

So be it!
Mar. [Within.] Illo, ho, ho, my lord!
Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come.
Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.
Mar. How is't, my noble lord?
Hor.

What news, my lord?
Good my lord, tell it.

Ham. O wonderful!
Hor.
Ham.

You will reveal it.

No;

Nor I, my lord.

Hor. Not I, my lord, by heaven.
Mar.

Ham. How say you then; would heart of man
But you'll be secret,-

(once think it?
Hor, Mar.
Ay, by heaven, my lord.
Ham. There's ne'er a villain, dwelling in all
But he's an arrant knave.
Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come
To tell us this.
(from the grave,

[Denmark,

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.

(my lord.

Hor. These are but wild and whirling words,
Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily;
Faith, heartily.
Hor.
There's no offence, my lord.
Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is,
Horatio,
[here,
And much offence too. Touching this vision
It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you:
For your desire to know what is between ns,

O'erinaster it as you may. And now, good
friends,

As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,
Give me one poor request.

Hor.
We will.

What is 't, my lord?

Ham. Never make known what you have seen, Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; Hor. Mar. My lord, we will not. [to-night. And how, and who, what means, and where Nay, but swear't.

Ham.

In faith,

Nor I, my lord, in faith. Ham. Upon my sword. Mar. We have sworn, my lord, already. Ham. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear,

Ham. Ha, ha, boy! say'st thou so? art thou there, true-penny? [age, Come on, you hear this fellow in the cellarConsent to swear.

Hor.

Propose the oath, my lord. Ham. Never to speak of this that you have Swear by my sword. [seen,

Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear.

Ham. Hic et ubique! then we'll shift our Come hither, gentlemen, [ground:

And lay your hands again upon my sword:
Swear by my sword,

Never to speak of this that you have heard.
Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear by his sword.
Ham. Well said, old mole! caust work i' the
earth so fast?
[friends.
A worthy pioneer!-Once more remove, good
Hor. Ó day and night, but this is wondrous
strange!
[welcome.
Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it
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 on,-
That you, at such times seeing me, never shall,
With arms encumber'd thus, or this head-shake,
Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,
As, Well, well, we know;-or, We could, an if we
would;-or, If we list to speak;-or, There be, an
if they might;-

Ör such ambiguous giving out, to pote
That you know aught of me:-This not to do,

swear;

So grace and mercy at your most need help you; Ghost (Beneath.] Swear.

they keep,

What company, at what expense; and finding, By this encompassment and drift of question, That they do know my son, come you more

nearer

Than your particular demands will touch it: Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him;

As thus,-I know his father, and his friends,
And, in part, him;-Do you mark this, Reynaldo?
Rey. Ay, very well, my lord.
[well:

Pol And, in part, him;-but, you may say, not
But, if't be he I mean, he's very wild;
Addicted so and so;-and there put on him
What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank
As may dishonour him; take heed of that:
But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips,
As are companions noted and most known
To youth and liberty.

Rey. As, gaming, my lord. Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarDrabbing:-You may go so far. [relling,

Rey. My lord, that would dishonour him.
Pol. 'Faith, no: as you may season it in the
charge.

You must not put another scandal on him,
That he is open to incontinency: [so quaintly,
That's not my meaning: but breathe his faults
That they may seem the taints of liberty;
The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind;
A savageness in unreclaimed blood,
Of general assault.

Rey.
But, my good lord,-
Pol. Wherefore should you do this?
Rey.

I would know that.
Pol.

Ay, my lord,

Marry, sir, here's my drift And, I believe, it is a fetch of warrant: You laying these slight sullies on my son, As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' the working, Mark you,

Your party in converse, him you would sound, Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes, The youth you breathe of, guilty, be assur'd, He closes with you in this consequence; Good sir, or so; or friend, or gentleman,—According to the phrase, or the addition, Of man and country. Rey. Very good, my lord. Pol. And then, sir, does he this,-He doesMay do, to express his love and friending to you, What was 1 about to say?-By the mass, I was God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in toge-about to say something:-Where did I leave? ther;

[men, Hom. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So, gentleWith all my love I do commend me to you: And what so poor a man as Hamlet is

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Rey. At, closes in the consequence. [marry; Pol. At, closes in the consequence,-Ay, He closes with you thus:--I know the gentleman; I saw him yesterday, or t'other day,

Or then, or then; with such, or such; and, as you say, There was he gaming; there o'ertook in his rouse; There falling out at Tennis: or, perchance,

I saw him enter such a house of sale
(Videlicet, a brothel), or so forth.
See you now;

Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth:
And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,
With windlaces, and with assays of bias,
By indirections find directions out;
So, by my former lecture and advice,
Shall you my son: You have me, have you not
Rey. My lord, I have.

Pol.

God be wi' you; fare you well *

Rey. Good my lord

Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself. Rey. I shall, my lord.

Pol. And let him ply his musick.
Rey.

Enter OPHELIA.

Well, my lord.
[Exit.
Pol. Farewell!-How now, Ophelia? what's
the matter?
[frighted!
Oph. O, my lord, my lord, I have been so af-
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;
No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd,
Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ancle;
Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other;
And with a look so piteous in purport,
As if he had been loosed out of hell,
To speak of horrors,- he comes before me.
Pol. Mad for thy love?
Oph.
But, truly, I do fear it.
Pol.

My lord, I do not know,

What said he? [hard;
Oph. He took me by the wrist, and held me
Then goes he to the length of all his arm;
And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,
He falls to such perusal of my face,
As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so;
At last, a little shaking of mine arm,
And thrice his head thus waving up and down,-
He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound,
As it did seem to shatter all his bulk,
And end his being: That done, he lets me go:
And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,
He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;
For out o' doors he went without their help,
And, to the last, bended their light on me.

Pol. Come, go with me; I will go seek the king.
This is the very ecstasy of love;
Whose violent property foredoes itself,
And leads the will to desperate undertakings,
As oft as any passion under heaven,
That does afflict our natures. I am sorry,
What, have you given him any hard words of
[mand,
Oph. No, my good lord; but, as you did com-
I did repel his letters, and denied
His access to me.

Pol.

late?

That hath made him mad.
I am sorry, that with better heed and judgment,
I had not quoted him: I fear'd, he did but trifle,
And meant to wreck thee; but, beshrew my
It seems, it is as proper to our age [jealousy!
To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions,
As it is common for the younger sort
To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king:
This must be known; which, being kept close,
might move

More grief to hide, than hate to utter love.
Come.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Room in the Jastle.
Enter King, Queen, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDEN-
STERN, and Attendants.

King. Welcome, dear Rosencrantz, and Guil-
denstern!

Moreover that we much did long to see you,
The need, we have to use you, did provoke
Our hasty sending. Something have you heard
Of Hamlet's transformation; so I call it,
Since not the exterior nor the inward man
Resembles that it was: What it should be,
More than his father's death, that thus hath put

him

So much from the understanding of himself,
I cannot dream of: I entreat you both,
That,-being of so young days brought up with
him,

And, since, so neighbour'd to his youth and hu-
mour,-

That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court
Some little time; so by your companies
To draw him on to pleasures; and to gather,
So much as from occasion you may glean,
Whetheraught, to us unknown, aflicts him thus,
That, open'd, lies within our remedy. [of you;

Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd
And, sure I am, two men there are not living,
To whom he more adheres. If it will please you
To show us so much gentry, and good will,
As to expend your time with us awhile,
For the supply and profit of our hope,
Your visitation shall receive such thanks
As fits a king's remembrance.

Ros.

Both your majesties
Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,
Put your dread pleasures more into command
Than to entreaty.
Guil.
But we both obey;
And here give up ourselves, in the full bent,
To lay our service freely at your feet,
To be commanded.

King. Thanks, Rosencrantz, and gentle Guil-
denstern:
sencrantz;

Queen. Thanks, Guildenstern, and gentle Ro-
And I beseech you instantly to visit
My too much changed son.-Go, some of you,
And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is
Guil. Heavens make our presence, and our
Pleasant and helpful to him! [practices,
Queen.
Ay, amen!
[Exeunt Ros. GUIL. and some Attendants.
Enter POLONIUS.

Pol. The ambassadors from Norway, my good
lord,

Are joyfully return'd.

[news.

King. Thou still hast been the father of good
hold my duty, as I hold my soul,
Pol. Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good
Both to my God, and to my gracious king;
[liege,
And I do think (or else this brain of mine
Hunts not the trail of policy so sure
As it hath us'd to do) that I have found
The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.

them in.

King. O, speak of that, that do I long to hear. My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. Pol. Give first admittance to the embassadors; King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring [Exit POLONIUS. The head and source of all your son's distemper. He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found Queen. I doubt, it is no other but the main; His father's death, and our o'erhasty marriage. Re-enter POLONIUS, with VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS.

King. Well, we shall sift him.-Welcome my
good friends!

Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway?
Vol. Most fair return of greetings and desires.
Upon our first, he sent out to suppress
His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd
To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack;
But, better look'd into, he truly found
It was against your highness: Whereat griev'd-
That so his sickness, age, and impotence,
Was falsely borne in hand,-sends out arrests
On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys;
Receives rebuke from Norway; and, in fine,
Makes vow before his uncle, never more
To give the assay of arms against your majesty.
Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,
Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee;

And his commission, to employ those soldiers,
So levied as before, against the Polack:
With an entreaty, herein further shown,

[Gives a Paper.
That it might please you to give quiet pass
Through your dominions for this enterprise;
On such regards of safety and allowance,
As therein are set down.

King. It likes us well: And, at our more consider'd time, we'll read, Answer, and think upon this business, Mean time, we thank you for your well-took labour:

Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together: Most welcome home!

[Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS.
Pol.
This business is well ended.
My liege, and madam, to expostulate
What majesty should be, what duty is,
Why day is day, night, night, and time is time,
Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time,
Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flou-
rishes,-

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.

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.

I have a daughter,-have, while she is mine,-
Who, in her duty and obedience, mark,
Hath given me this: Now gather and surmise.
-To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most
beautified Ophelia.-

That's an ill phrase, a viie phrase; beautified is
a vile phrase; but you shall hear. Thus :
In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.
Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her?

Pol. Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful.-

Doubt thou the stars are fire,

Doubt, that the sun doth move,

Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt I love.

[Reads.

Or look'd upon this love with idle sight; What might you think? no, I went round to work,

And my young mistress thus did I bespeak,-
Lord Hamlet is a prince out of thy star;

This must not be : and then I precepts gave her,
That she should lock herself from his resort,
Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.
Which done, she took the fruits of my advice;
And he, repulsed (a short tale to make),
Fell into a sadness,-then into a fast,—
Thence to a watch,-thence into a weakness,---
Thence to a lightness,-and, by this declension,
Into the madness wherein now he raves,
And all we mourn for.

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 prov'd otherwise?
King.

Not that I know.

Pol. Take this from this, if this 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 four Here in the lobby. [hours together,

So he does, indeed.

[him:

Queen. Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to Be you and I behind an arras then; 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.

Enter HAMLET, reading.

Queen. But, look, where sadly the poor wretch

comes reading.

Fol. Away, I do beseech you, both away;
I'll board him presently:-0, give me leave.—
[Exeunt KING, QUEEN, and Attendants.
How does my good Lord Hamlet?
Ham. Well, god-'a-mercy.

Pol. Do you know me, my lord?
Ham. Excellent well: you are a fishmonger.
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 Pol. I have, my lord. [a daughter?

Ham. Let her not walk i' the sun: conception is a blessing; but as your daughter may conceive,-friend, look to't.

Pol. How say you by that? [Aside.] Still harping on my daughter:-yet he knew me not at first; he said, I was a fishmonger. He is far gone, far gone: and, truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for love,-very near this. I'll speak to him again.-What do you read, my lord?

Ham. Words, words, words!

Pol. What is the matter, my lord?
Ham. Between who?

Fol. I mean, the matter that you read, my Ham. Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here, that old men have grey beards: that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging

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