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HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Claudius, king of Denmark.

Francisco, a soldier.

Hamlet, son to the former king, and nephew to the Reynaldo, servant to Polonius.

Laertes, son to Polonius.

present king.

Polonius, lord chamberlain.

Horatio, friend to Hamlet.

Voltimand,

Cornelius,

Rosencrantz,

Guildenstern,

Another Courtier.

courtiers.

Osric, a courtier.

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A Captain. An Ambassador.
Ghost of Hamlet's father.

Fortinbras, prince of Norway.

Gertrude, queen of Denmark, and mother of
Hamlet.

Ophelia, daughter of Polonius.

Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, Grave diggers, Sailors, Messengers, and other Ab tendants.

Scene, Elsinore.

ACT I.

SCENE I-Elsinore. A platform before the castle. Francisco on his post. Enter to Bernardo.

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him

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Fran. Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold With us to watch the minutes of this night;

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And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
Well, sit we down,
Ber. Last night of all,

When yon same star, that's westward from the
Not a mouse stirring. Had made his course to illume that part of heaven
pole,
Where now it burns, Marcellus, and myself,
The bell then beating one,-

If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
The rivals' of my watch, bid them make haste.
Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Fran. I think, I hear them.-Stand, ho! Who
is there?

And liegemen to the Dane.

Hor. Friends to this ground.
Mar.
Fran. Give you good night.
Mar.

O, farewell, honest soldier:

Who hath reliev'd you?
Fran. Bernardo hath my place.
Give you good night.

Mar.

[Exit Francisco. Holla! Bernardo !

Ber.

Say,

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Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcellus.

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(1) Partners.

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Ber.
See! it stalks away.
Hor. Stay, speak: speak I charge thee, speak.
[Exit Ghost.
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 my God, I might not this believe, Without the sensible and true avouch

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;
So frown'd he once, when, in angry parle,1
He smote the sledded Polack3 on the ice.
'Tis strange.

Mer. Thus, twice before, and jump at this dead hour,

With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know
not;

But, in the gross and scope of mine opinion
This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
Mar. Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that
knows,

Why this same strict and most observant watch
So nightly toils the subject of the land;
And why such daily cast of brazen cannon,
And foreign mart for implements of war;
Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
Does not divide the Sunday from the week:
What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day;
Who is't, that can inform me ?

Hor.
That can I;
At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king,
Whose image even but now appear'd to us,
Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride,
Dar'd to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet
(For so this side of our known world esteem'd him,)
Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a seal'd compact,
Well ratified by law and heraldry,

Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands
Which he stood seiz'd of, to the conqueror :
Against the which, a moiety competent
Was gaged by our king; which had return'd
To the inheritance of Fortinbras,

Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same co-mart,
And carriage of the article design'd,"

His fell to Hamlet: Now, sir, young Fontinbras,
Of unimproved mettle hot and full,"
Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there,
Shark'd up a list of landless resolutes,
For food and diet, to some enterprise
That hath a stomach in't: which is no other
(As it doth well appear unto our state,)
But to recover of us, by strong hand,
And terms compulsatory, those 'foresaid lands
So by his father lost: And this, I take it,
Is the main motive of our preparations;
The source of this our watch; and the chief head
Of this post-haste and romage1o in the land.

(Ber. I think, it be no other, but even so:
Well may it sort," that this portentious figure
Comes armed through our watch; so like the king
That was, and is, the question of these wars.

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But, soft; behold! lo, where it comes again!
I'll cross it, though it blast me.-Stay, illusion!
If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,
Speak to me:

If there be any good thing to be done,
That may to thee do ease, and grace to me,
Speak to me:

If thou art privy to thy country's fate,
Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid,
O, speak!

Or, if thou hast uphoarded in thy life
Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,
For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,
[Cock crows.
Speak of it:—stay, and speak.-Stop it, Marcellus.
Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partizan ?
Hor. Do, if it will not stand.

Ber. Hor.

Mar. 'Tis gone!

'Tis here!

'Tis here! [Exit Ghost.

We do it wrong, being so majestical,
To offer it the show of violence;
For it is, as the air, invulnerable,
And our vain blows malicious mockery.
Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew.
Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing
Upon a fearful summons. I have heard,
The cock, that is the trumpet of the morn,
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
Awake the god of day; and, at his warning,
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
The extravagant and erring15 spirit hies
To his confine and of the truth herein
This present object made probation. 16

Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock.
Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
This bird of dawning singeth all night long:
And then they say no spirit dares stir abroad;
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.

Hor. So I have heard, and do in part believe it. 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: Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it, As needful in our loves, fitting our duty? Mur. Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know

(7) Full of spirit without experience. (8) Picked.

(11) Suit.

(14) Event.

(9) Resolution. (10) Search. (12) Victorious. (13) The moon. (15) Wandering. (16) Proof.

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King. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's
death

The memory be green; and that it us befitted
To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom
To be contracted in one brow of wo;
Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature,
That we with wisest sorrow think on him,
Together with remembrance of ourselves.
Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
The imperial jointress of this warlike state,
Have we, as 'twere, with a defeated joy,-
With one auspicious, and one dropping eye;
With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage,
In equal scale weighing delight and dole,
Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr'd
Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
With this affair along:-For all, our thanks.

Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras,
Holding a weak supposal of our worth;
Or thinking, by our late dear brother's death,
Our state to be disjoint and out of frame,
Colleagued with this dream of his advantage,
He hath not fail'd to pester us with message,
Importing the surrender of those lands,
Lost by his father, with all bands of law,
To our most valiant brother.-So much for him.
Now for ourself, and for this time of meeting.
Thus much the business is: We have here writ
To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,-
Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears
Of this his nephew's purpose,-to suppress
His further gait3 herein; in that the levies,
The lists, and full proportions, are all made
Out of his subject:-and we here despatch
You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand,
For bearers of this greeting to old Norway;
Giving to you no further personal power
To business with the king, more than the scope
Of these dilated articles allow.
Farewell: and let your haste commend your duty.
Cor. Vol. In that, and all things, will we show
our duty.

King. We doubt it nothing; heartily farewell.
[Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius.
And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?
You told us of some suit; What is't, Laertes ?
You cannot speak of reason to the Dane,
And lose your voice: What would'st thou beg,
Laertes,

That shall not be my offer, not thy asking?
The head is not more native to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.
What would'st thou have, Laertes?
Laer.

My dread lord,
Your leave and favour to return to France;
From whence though willingly I came to Denmark,
To show my duty in your coronation;
Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France,
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
King. Have you your father's leave? What says
Polonius?

Pol. He hath, my lord, [wrung from me my slow
leave,

By laboursome petition; and, at last,

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Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent:]
do beseech you, give him leave to go.
And thy best graces: spend it at thy will.—
King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine,
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,-
Ham. A little more than kin, and less than kind.

[Aside.

King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
Ham. Not so, my lord, I am too much i'the sun.
Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off,
And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Do not, for ever, with thy veiled lids'
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 customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected haviour of the visage,
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;
These, but the trappings and the suits of wo.
King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your na-
ture, Hamlet,

To give these mourning duties to your father:
But, you must know, your father lost a father;
That father lost his; and the survivor bound
In filial obligation, for some term

To do obsequious sorrow: But to perséver
In obstinate condolement, is a course
Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief:
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven;
A heart unfortified, or mind impatient;
An understanding simple and unschool'd:
For what, we know, must be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason most absurd; whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first corse, till he that died to-day,
This must be so. We pray you, throw to earth
This unprevailing wo; and think of us
As of a father: for let the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our throne;
And, with no less nobility of love,
Than that which dearest father bears his son,
Do I impart toward you. For your intent
In going back to school in Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our desire:
And, we beseech you, bend you to remain
Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.
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 unfore'd accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof,

(4) Nature; a little more than a kinsman, and
less than a natural one.
(5) Lowering eyes.

(6) Contrary.

No jocund health, that Denmark drinks to-day,
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell;
And the king's rouse1 the heaven shall bruit2 again,
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.

[Exeunt King, Queen, Lords, &c. Polonius,
and Laertes.

Ham. O, that this too too solid flesh would melt,

Thaw, and resolves itself into a dew!
Or, that the Everlasting had not fix'd

His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable,
Seem to me all the uses of this world!

Fie on't! O fie' 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in
nature,

Possess it merely." That it should come to this! But two months dead!-nay, not so much, not

two:

So excellent a king; that was, to this,

Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother,
That he might not beteem" the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on: And yet, within a month,-

Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio: the funeral-bak'd

meats"

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
'Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!
My father, Methinks, I see my father.
Hor.

My lord?

Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Where,

Hor. I saw him once, he was a goodly king.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again.
Hor. 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
With an attent10 ear; till I may deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.

Ham.

For God'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,
Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,
Armed at point, exactly, cap-à-pé,

Let me not think on't;-Frailty, thy name is Appears before them, and, with solemn march,

woman!

A little month; or ere those shoes were old,
With which she follow'd my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears;-why she, even she,-
O heaven! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,
Would have mourn'd longer,-married with my
uncle,

My father's brother; but no more like my father,
Than I to Hercules: Within a month;
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married:-O most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
It is not, nor it cannot come to, good;
But break, my heart: for I must hold my tonge!
Enter Horatio, Bernardo, and Marcellus.
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.

And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? Marcellus?

Mar. My good lord,

Ham. I am very glad to see you; good even, sir.

But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?
Hor. 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.

Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd,
By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes,
Within his truncheon's length; while they, distill'd
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me,
In dreadful secrecy, impart they did;
And I with them, the third night, kept the watch:
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes: I knew your father;
These hands are not more like.

Ham.
But where was this?
Hor. My lord, upon the platform where we
watch'd.

Ham. Did you not speak to it?
Hor.

My lord, I did;
But answer made it none: yet once, methought,
It lifted up its head, and did address
Itself to motion, like as it would speak:
But, even then, the morning cock crew loud;
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
And vanish'd from our sight.

Ham.

'Tis very strange. Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true; And we did think it writ down in our duty, To let you know of it.

Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. Hold you the watch to-night?

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Ham. Arm'd, say you?

All.

Ham.

We do, my lord.

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All. My lord, from head to foot.
Ham.
His face?

Hor. O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver" up.
Ham. What, look'd he frowningly?
Hor.

Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-In sorrow than in anger.

student;

I think, it was to see my mother's wedding.
Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.

(1) Draught. (2) Report. (3) Dissolve. (4) Law. (5) Entirely. (6) Apollo. (7) Suffer. (8) It was anciently the custom to give a cold entertainment at a funeral.

Ham.

Hor. Nay, very pale.

Ham.

A countenance more

Pale, or red?

And fix'd his eyes upon you?

(10) Attentive.

Hor. Most constantly.

(9) Chiefest.

(11) That part of the helmet which may be lifted up.

Ham.

I would, I had been there.
Hor. It would have much amaz'd you.
Ham.

Very like Stay'd it long?

Very like,

Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell
a hundred.

Mar. Ber. Longer, longer.
Hor. Not when I saw it.
Ham.

If with too credents ear you list his songs;
Or loose your heart; or your chaste treasure open
To his unmaster'd' importunity.
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister;
And keep you in the rear of your affection,
Out of the shot and danger of desire.
The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon:

His beard was grizzled? no? Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes :

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.
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. I pray you all,
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
Let it be tenable in your silence still;
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue;
I will requite your loves: So, fare you well:
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.

All.

Our duty to your honour.
Ham. Your loves, as mine to you: Farewell.
[Exeunt Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo.
My father's spirit in arms! all is not well;

I doubt some foul play: 'would, the night were

come!

SCENE III.-A room in Polonius's house. ter Laertes and Ophelia.

The canker galls the infants of the spring,
Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd;
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Be wary then: best safety lies in fear;
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

Oph. I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,
As watchman to my heart: But, good my brother,
Do no, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless' libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own read.10
O fear me not.

Laer.

I stay too long;-But here my father comes.
Enter Polonius.

A double blessing a double grace;
Occasion smiles upon a second leave.

Pol. Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for
shame;

Till then sit still, my soul; Foul deeds will rise, The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's And you are staid for: There,-my blessing with
[Exit.
eyes.
you; [Laying his hand on Laertes head.
And these few precepts in thy memory
En-Look thou character." Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportion'd thought 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.
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," but reserve thy judg
ment.

Laer. My necessaries are embark'd; farewell:
And, sister, as the winds give benefit,
And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,
But let me hear from you.

Do you doubt that?

Oph.
Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;

A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
The pérfume and suppliance of a minute;
No more.

Oph.
Laer.

No more but so?

Think it no more:
For nature, crescent,' does not grow alone
In thews, and bulk; but, as this temple waxes,
The inward service of the mind and soul
Grows wide withal. Perhaps, he loves you now
And now no soil, nor cautel, doth besmirch
The virtue of his will: but, you must fear,
His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;
For he himself is subject to his birth:
He may not, as unvalued persons do,
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends

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Unto the voice and yielding of that body,

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,

14

Beware

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.
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be:
For loan oft loses both itself and friend;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.1
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!
Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord
Pol. The time invites you; go, your servants
tend. Ja

Whereof he is the head: Then if he says he What I have said to you.

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