with you.Why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toil? Guil. O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly. Ham. 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. Guil. 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. 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. S'blood, 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. Enter POLONIUS. God bless you, sir! Pol. My lord, the queen would speak with you, and presently. Ham. Do you see yonder cloud, that's almost in shape of a camel? Pol. By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed. Pol. Very like a whale. friends. Pol. I will say so. [Exit Polonius. Ham. By and by is_easily said.-Leave me, [Exeunt Ros. Guil. Hor. &c. 'Tis now the very witching time of night; When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes [blood, Contagion to this world: Now could I drink hot And do such business as the bitter day out Would quake to look on. Soft; now to my mother. O, heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever, I will speak daggers to her, but use none; [Exit. SCENE III.-A Room in the same. Enter King, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN. King. I like him not; nor stands it safe with us, To let his madness range. Therefore, prepare you; I your commission will forthwith despatch, And he to England shall along with you: The terms of our estate may not endure Hazard so uear us, as doth hourly grow Out of his lunes. Guil. We will ourselves provide: Most holy and religious fear it is, To keep those many many bodies safe, That live, and feed, Ros. The single and on your majesty. peculiar life is bound, With all the strength and armour of the mind, To keep itself from 'noyance; but much more That spirit, upon whose weal depend and rest The lives of many. The cease of majesty Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw What's near it, with it: it is a massy wheel, For we will fetters put upon this fear, We will haste us. [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Enter POLONIUS. Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet: Behind the arras I'll convey myself, To hear the process; I'll warrant, she'll tax him home : 'Tis meet, that some more audience, than a mother, King. Thanks, dear my lord. [Exit Polonius. O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven; It hath the primal eldest curse upon't, A brother's murder!-Pray can I not, Though inclination be as sharp as will; My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent; And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect. What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood? Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens, To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy, But to confront the visage of offence? And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force,— To be forestalled, ere we come to fall, Or pardon'd, being down? Then I'll look up; My fault is past. But O, what form of prayer Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder!That cannot be; since I am still possess'd Of those effects for which I did the murder? My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. May one be pardon'd, and retain the offence? In the corrupted currents of this world, Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice; And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself Buys out the law: But 'tis not so above: There is no shuffling, there the action lies In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd, Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To give in evidence. What then? what rests? Try what repentance can: What can it not? Yet what can it, when one can not repent? O wretched state! O bosom, black as death! O limed soul, that, struggling to be free, Art more engag'd! Help, angels, make assay! Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart, with strings of steel, Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!All may be well! (Retires, and kneels.) Enter HAMLET. Ham. Now might I do it, pat, now he is praying; Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge. But, in our circumstance and course of thought, When he is fit and season'd for his passage? No. Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent: [Exit. Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven: Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go. [Exit. SCENE IV. Another Room in the same. Enter Queen and POLONIUS. Pol. He will come straight. Look you, lay home to him; Tell him, his pranks have been too broad to bear with: [tween And that your grace hath screen'd and stood beMuch heat and him. I'll silence me e'en here. Pray you, be round with him. Queen. I'll warrant you; Fear me not-withdraw, I hear him coming. (Polonius hides himself.) Enter HAMLET. Ham. Now, mother; what's the matter? Queen. 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. What's the matter now? Queen. Have you forgot me? Ham. No, by the rood, not so: You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife; And,-'would it were not so!-you are my mother. Queen. Nay, then I'll set those to you that can speak. [not budge; Ham. Come, come, and sit you down; you shall 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 murHelp, help, ho! [der me? Pol. (Behind.) What, ho! help! Ham. How now! a rat? (Draws.) (Hamlet makes a pass through the arras.) Pol. (Behind.) O, I am slain. (Falls and dies.) Queen. O me, what hast thou done? Ham. Is it the king? Dead, for a ducat, dead. Nay, I know not: (Lifts up the arras, and draws forth Polonius.) 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. Ham. down, And let me wring your heart: for so I shall, If it be made of penetrable stuff; If damned custom hath not braz'd it so, That it be proof and bulwark against sense. From the fair forehead of an innocent love, Ah me, what act, Queen. That roars so loud, and thunders in the index? Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and on this; The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. See, what a grace was seated on this brow: Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury, New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man: [follows: This was your husband.-Look you now what Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear, Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes! Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes! You cannot call it, love: for at your age, The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have, Else could you not have motion: But, sure, that sense Is apoplex'd: for madness would not err; O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious bell, As will not leave their tinct. Queen. Alas! he's mad. Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide. Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'st wag That, laps'd in time and passion, let's go by thy tongue In noise so rude against me? Ham. Such an act, That blurs the grace and blush of modesty; Call's virtue, hypocrite; takes off the rose The important acting of your dread command? Ghost. Do not forget: This visitation O, step between her and her fighting soul; Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works; Speak to her, Hamlet. Ham. How is it with you, lady? His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, Queen. My father, in his habit as he liv'd; Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal! Ham. Ecstasy! My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it, That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat To the next abstinence: the next more easy: The death I gave him. So, again, good night!- Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.- Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you, his mouse; Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers, But mad in craft. "Twere good, you let him know: [breath, Queen. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of Ham. I must to England; you know that? I had forgot; 'tis so concluded on. Alack, Ham. There's letters seal'd: and my two schoolfellows, Whom I will trust, as I will adders fang'd,- I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room :-- [Exeunt severally; Hamlet, dragging in ACT IV. SCENE I.-The same. Enter King, Queen, ROSENCRANTZ, and King. There's matter in these sighs; these profound heaves You must translate; 'tis fit we understand them: Where is your son? Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while.(To Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who go out.) Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to-night! King. What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet? Queen. Mad as the sea, and wind, when both contend Which is the mightier: In his lawless fit, King. Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd: O'er whom his very madness, like some ore, Among a mineral of metals base, Shews itself pure; he weeps for what is done. The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch, Enter ROSENCRANTZ and Guildenstern. Friends both, go join you with some further aid: Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him: Go, seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this. [Exeunt Ros, and Guil. Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends; And let them know, both what we mean to do, And what's untimely done: so, haply, slander,Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter, As level as the cannon to his blank, Transports his poison'd shot,-may miss our name, And hit the woundless air.-O come away! My soul is full of discord, and dismay. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Another Room in the house. Ham. Safely stow'd,-(Ros. &c. within. Hamlet! lord Hamlet!) But soft,-what noise? who calls on Hamlet? O, here they come. Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN. Ros. What have you done, my lord, with the dead body? Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin. Ros. Tell us where 'tis; that we may take it thence, And bear it to the chapel. Ham. Do not believe it. Ros. Believe what? Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a sponge! what replication should be made by the son of a king? Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord? Ham. Ay, sir; that soaks up the king's countenance, his rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the king best service in the end: He keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouthed, to be last swallowed: When he needs what you have gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you shall be dry again. Ros. I understand you not, my lord. Ham. I am glad of it: A knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear. Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the body is, and go with us to the king. Ham. The body is with the king, but the king is not with the body. The king is a thingGuil. A thing, my lord? Ham. Of nothing: bring me to him. Hide fox, [Exeunt. and all after. SCENE III.-Another Room in the same. Enter King, attended. King. I have sent to seek him, and to find the body. How dangerous is it, that this man goes loose? Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes; Enter ROSENCRANTZ. Or not at all.-How now? what hath befallen? Ros. Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord, We cannot get from him. But where is be? King. Ros. Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure. King. Bring him before us. Ros. Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord. Enter HAMLET and GUILDENSTERN. King. Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius? Ham. At supper. King. At supper? where? Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten : a certain convocation of politic worms are e'en ti him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all creatures else, to fat us; and we fat ourselves for maggots: Your fat king, and your lea beggar, is but variable service; two dishes, but to one table; that's the end. King. Alas! alas! Ham. A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king; and eat of the fish that bath fed of that worm. King. What dost thou mean by this? Ham. Nothing, but to shew you how a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar. King. Where is 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 vớt within this month, you shall nose him as you get the stairs into the lobby. King. Go seek him there. (To some Attendants. Ham. He will stay till you come. [Exeunt Attendants. King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety, Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve hence With fiery quickness: Therefore, prepare thyself. for King. Ham. Ay, Hamlet. Good King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes. Ham. I see a cherub, that sees them.-Bat, come England!-Farewell, dear mother. King. Thy loving father, Hamlet. Ham. My mother: Father and mother is mai and wife; man and wife is one flesh; and se, By mother. 'Come, for England. [Ent. King. Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard; Delay it not, I'll have him bence to-night : Cap. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras. Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, sir, Or for some frontier? Cap. Truly to speak, sir, and with no addition, To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it; Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it. To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be A thought, which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom, And, ever, three parts coward,-I do not know To all that fortune, death, and danger, dare, When honour's at the stake. How stand I then, Queen. I will not speak with her. Hor. She is importunate; indeed, distract; Her mood will needs be pitied. Queen. What would she have? Hor. She speaks much of her father; says, she hears, [heart; There's tricks i'the world; and hems, and beats her Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt, That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing, Yet the unshaped use of it doth move The hearers to collection; they aim at it, And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield them, [thought, Indeed would make one think, there might be Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. Queen. 'Twere good, she were spoken with; for she may strew Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds: [Exit Horatio. To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is, While his shroud as the mountain snow, (Sings.) Enter King. Oph. Queen. Alas, look here, my lord. King. How do you, pretty lady? Oph. Well, God'ield you! They say, the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table! King. Conceit upon her father. Oph. Pray, let us have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, say you this: Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's day, All in the morning betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your Valentine: Then up he rose, and don'd his clothes, And dupp'd the chamber door; Let in the maid, that out a maid Never departed more. King. Pretty Ophelia! [on't: Oph. Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end By Gis, and by Saint Charity, Alack, and fy for shame! Young men will do't, if they come to't; By cock, they are to blame. Quoth she, before you tumbled me, You promis'd me to wed: (He answers.) So would I ha' done, by yonder sun, An thou hadst not come to my bed. King. How long hath she been thus? Oph. 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. King. Follow her close; give her good watch, I [Exit Horatio. O! this is the poison of deep grief; it springs All from her father's death: And now behold, O Gertrude, Gertrude, pray you. When sorrows come, they come not single spies, |