Hamlet (Modern, based on the First Folio)
Not Peer Reviewed
[4.5]
¶
Enter Queen and Horatio.
2745Queen I will not speak with her.
¶Horatio She is importunate,
Indeed, distract. Her mood ¶will needs be pitied.
¶Queen What would she have?
¶Horatio She speaks much of her father, says she hears
2750There's tricks i'th' world, and hems, and beats her heart,
¶Spurns enviously at straws, speaks things in doubt
¶That carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing,
¶Yet the unshapèd use of it doth move
¶The hearers to collection; they aim at it,
2755And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts,
¶Which, as her winks and nods and gestures yield them,
¶Indeed would make one think there would be thought,
¶Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
¶Queen 'Twere good she were spoken with,
2760For she may strew dangerous conjectures
¶In ill-breeding minds. Let her come in.
¶[Aside] To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,
¶Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss.
¶So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
2765It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
¶
Enter Ophelia, distracted.
¶Ophelia Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
¶Queen How now, Ophelia?
2770By his cockle hat and staff, and his sandal shoon.
¶Queen Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
¶Ophelia Say you? Nay, pray you, mark.
¶At his head a grass-green turf, at his heels a stone.
2775
Enter King.
¶Queen Nay, but Ophelia--
¶Queen Alas, look here, my lord.
¶Which bewept to the ground did not go¶With true-love showers.
¶King How do ye, pretty lady?
¶Ophelia Well God dild you. They say the owl was 2785a 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.
All in the morning betime,¶And I a maid at your windowTo be your Valentine.¶Then up he rose, and donned his clothes, and dupped the chamber door,¶Let in the maid, that out a maid never departed more.
¶King Pretty Ophelia--
2795Ophelia Indeed, la! Without an oath I'll make an end on't.
¶Alack, and fie for shame!¶Young men will do't if they come to't;¶By Cock, they are too blame.¶ "So would I ha 'done, by yonder sun,¶An thou hadst not come to my bed."
¶King How long hath she been thus?
2805Ophelia I hope all will be well. We must be patient. ¶But I cannot choose but weep to think they should ¶lay him i'th' 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, 2810good night, good night.
Exit.
[Exit Horatio.]
¶Oh, this is the poison of deep grief! It springs
¶All from her father's death. Oh, Gertrude, Gertrude,
2815When sorrows come, they come not single spies
¶But in battalias. First, her father slain;
¶Next, your son gone, and he most violent author
¶Of his own just remove; the people muddied,
¶Thick and unwholesome in thoughts and whispers
2820For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly
¶In hugger-mugger to inter him; poor Ophelia
¶Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
¶Without the which we are pictures or mere beasts;
¶Last, and as much containing as all these,
2825Her brother is in secret come from France,
¶Keeps on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
¶And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
¶With pestilent speeches of his father's death,
¶Wherein necessity, of matter beggared,
2830Will nothing stick our persons to arraign
¶In ear and ear. Oh, my dear Gertrude, this,
¶Like to a murdering piece, in many places
¶Gives me superfluous death.
2835Queen Alack, what noise is this?
¶King Attend! Where are my Switzers,?
¶ Let them guard the door. What is the matter?
¶Messenger Save yourself, my lord!
¶The ocean, overpeering of his list,
2840Eats not the flats with more impiteous haste
¶Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
¶O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him lord,
¶And, as the world were now but to begin,
¶Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
2845The ratifiers and props of every word,
¶They cry, "Choose we! Laertes shall be king!"
¶Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds:
¶"Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!"
¶Queen How cheerfully on the false trail they cry!
2850Oh, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!
¶
Noise within. Enter Laertes.
¶King The doors are broke.
¶Laertes Where is this king?--Sirs, stand you all without.
2855Laertes I pray you, give me leave.
¶Laertes I thank you. Keep the door.-- O thou vile king,
¶Give me my father!
¶Queen Calmly, good Laertes.
2860Laertes That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard,
¶Cries "Cuckold!" to my father, brands the harlot
¶Even here between the chaste unsmirchèd brow
¶Of my true mother.
2865King What is the cause, Laertes,
¶That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?--
¶Let him go, Gertrude. Do not fear our person.
¶There's such divinity doth hedge a king
¶That treason can but peep to what it would,
2870Acts little of his will.--Tell me, Laertes,
¶Why thou art thus incensed?--Let him go, Gertrude.--
¶Speak, man.
¶Laertes Where's my father?
¶King Dead.
2875Queen But not by him.
¶King Let him demand his fill.
¶Laertes How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with.
¶To hell, allegiance! Vows, to the blackest devil!
¶Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!
2880I dare damnation. To this point I stand,
¶That both the worlds I give to negligence,
¶Let come what comes, only I'll be revenged
¶Most throughly for my father.
¶King Who shall stay you?
2885Laertes My will, not all the world.
¶And for my means, I'll husband them so well
¶They shall go far with little.
2890Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge
¶That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend and foe,
¶Winner and loser?
¶Laertes None but his enemies,
¶King Will you know them, then?
2895Laertes To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms,
¶And, like the kind life-rend'ring pelican,
¶Repast them with my blood.
¶King Why, now you speak
¶Like a good child and a true gentleman.
2900That I am guiltless of your father's death,
¶And am most sensible in grief for it,
¶It shall as level to your judgment pierce
| ¶As day does to your eye. | |
| ¶ A noise within. | |
| Let her come in. | |
2905
Enter Ophelia
¶Laertes How now, what noise is that?
¶O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt
¶Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
¶By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight
2910Till our scale turns the beam. O rose of May,
¶Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
¶O heavens, is't possible a young maid's wits
¶Should be as mortal as a poor man's life?
¶Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine
2915It sends some precious instance of itself
¶After the thing it loves.
¶Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny,¶And in his grave rains many a tear.
2920Fare you well, my dove.
It could not move thus.
¶Ophelia You must sing "down, a-down," an you call ¶him "a-down-a." Oh, how the wheel becomes it! It is 2925the false steward that stole his master's daughter.
¶Laertes This nothing's more than matter.
¶Ophelia There's rosemary; that's for remembrance.¶Pray, love, remember. And there is pansies; that's for ¶thoughts.
¶Ophelia There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for ¶you, and here's some for me. We may call it herb-grace o'Sundays. ¶Oh, you must wear your rue with a difference. There's a daisy. I would 2935give you some violets, but they withered all when my father ¶died. They say he made a good end.
[She sings.]
¶For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.
.
¶Laertes Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself
2940She turns to favor and to prettiness.
¶And will he not come again?¶No, no, he is dead, go to thy deathbed,¶He never will come again.2945His beard as white as snow,¶All flaxen was his poll.¶He is gone, he is gone, and we cast away moan.¶Gramercy on his soul!
¶and of all Christians' souls, I pray God.
2950God buy you!
Exeunt Ophelia [and the Queen, following her].
¶Laertes Do you see this, you gods?
¶King Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
¶Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
¶Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will,
2955And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me.
¶If by direct or by collateral hand
¶They find us touched, we will our kingdom give,
¶Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours
¶To you in satisfaction; but if not,
2960Be you content to lend your patience to us,
¶And we shall jointly labor with your soul
¶To give it due content.
¶Laertes Let this be so.
¶His means of death, his obscure burial--
2965No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,
¶No noble rite, nor formal ostentation--
¶Cry to be heard as 'twere from heaven to earth,
¶That I must call in question.
¶King So you shall,
2970And where th'offense is, let the great ax fall.
¶I pray you go with me.
Exeunt.
