Internet Shakespeare Editions


Jump to line
Help on texts

About this text

  • Title: Hamlet (Quarto 1, 1603)
  • Textual editor: Eric Rasmussen
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-434-9

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Hamlet (Quarto 1, 1603)

    2738.1 enter King and Queene.
    King Hamlet is ship't for England, fare him well,
    I hope to heare good newes from thence ere long,
    If euery thing fall out to our content,
    2738.5 As I doe make no doubt but so it shall.
    Queene God grant it may, heau'ns keep my Hamlet safe:
    2820 But this mischance of olde Corambis death,
    Hath piersed so the yong Ofeliaes heart,
    That she, poore maide, is quite bereft her wittes.
    King Alas deere heart! And on the other side,
    2825 We vnder stand her brother's come from France,
    2825.1 And he hath halfe the heart of all our Land,
    And hardly hee'le forget his fathers death,
    2828.1 Vnle s s e by some meanes he be pacified.
    Qu. O see where the yong Ofelia is!
    Enter Ofelia playing on a Lute, and her haire
    2766.1 downe singing.
    Ofelia How should I your true loue know
    From another man?
    2770 By his cockle hatte, and his staffe,
    2770 And his sandall shoone.
    White his shrowde as mountaine snowe,
    2780 Larded with sweete flowers,
    That bewept to the graue did not goe
    With true louers showers:
    He is dead and gone Lady, he is dead and gone,
    At his head a gra s s e greene turffe,
    At his heeles a stone.
    king How i' st with you sweete Ofelia?
    Ofelia Well God yeeld you,
    It grieues me to see how they laid him in the cold ground,
    I could not chuse but weepe:
    And will he not come againe?
    And will he not come againe?
    No, no, hee's gone, and we ca st away mone,
    And he neuer will come againe.
    2945 His beard as white as snowe:
    All flaxen was his pole,
    He is dead, he is gone,
    And we ca st away moane:
    God a mercy on his soule.
    And of all chri sten soules I pray God.
    God be with you Ladies, God be with you. exit Ofelia.
    2809.1 king A pretty wretch! this is a change indeede:
    O Time, how swiftly runnes our ioyes away?
    Content on earth was neuer certaine bred,
    To day we laugh and liue, to morrow dead.
    2835 How now, what noyse is that?
    A noyse within. enter Leartes.
    Lear. Stay there vntill I come,
    O thou vilde king, giue me my father:
    Speake, say, where's my father?
    king Dead.
    Lear. Who hath murdred him? speake, i'le not
    Be juggled with, for he is murdred.
    2875 Queene True, but not by him.
    Lear. By whome, by heau'n I'le be resolued.
    king Let him goe Gertred, away, I feare him not,
    There's such diuinitie doth wall a king,
    That treason dares not looke on.
    Let him goe Gertred, that your father is murdred,
    T'is true, and we mo st sory for it,
    2901.1 Being the chiefe st piller of our state:
    Therefore will you like a mo st desperate gam ster,
    Swoop- stake-like, draw at friend, and foe, and all?
    2895 Lear. To his good friends thus wide I'le ope mine arms,
    And locke them in my hart, but to his foes,
    551.1 I will no reconcilement but by bloud.
    king Why now you speake like a mo st louing sonne:
    And that in soule we sorrow for for his death,
    Your selfe ere long shall be a witne s s e,
    2960 Meane while be patient, and content your selfe.
    2905 Enter Ofelia as before.
    Lear. Who's this, Ofelia? O my deere si ster!
    I' st po s sible a yong maides life,
    Should be as mortall as an olde mans sawe?
    2913.1 O heau'ns themselues! how now Ofelia?
    Ofel. Wel God a mercy, I a bin gathering of floures:
    Here, here is rew for you,
    You may call it hearb a grace a Sundayes,
    Heere's some for me too: you mu st weare your rew
    2935 With a difference, there's a dazie.
    Here Loue, there's rosemary for you
    For remembrance: I pray Loue remember,
    And there's pansey for thoughts.
    2930 Lear. A document in madnes, thoughts, remembrance:
    O God, O God!
    Ofelia There is fennell for you, I would a giu'n you
    Some violets, but they all withered, when
    My father died: alas, they say the owle was
    2785 A Bakers daughter, we see what we are,
    2785 But can not tell what we shall be.
    For bonny sweete Robin is all my ioy.
    Lear. Thoughts & afflictions, torments worse than hell.
    Ofel. Nay Loue, I pray you make no words of this now:
    I pray now, you shall sing a downe,
    And you a downe a, t'is a the Kings daughter
    2925 And the false steward, and if any body
    Aske you of any thing, say you this.
    2790 To morrow is saint Valentines day,
    2790 All in the morning betime,
    And a maide at your window,
    To be your Valentine:
    The yong man rose, and dan'd his clothes,
    And dupt the chamber doore,
    Let in the maide, that out a maide
    Neuer departed more.
    Nay I pray marke now,
    By gi s s e, and by saint Charitie,
    Away, and fie for shame:
    Yong men will doo't when they come too't
    By cocke they are too blame.
    2800 Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
    You promised me to wed.
    So would I a done, by yonder Sunne,
    If thou had st not come to my bed.
    So God be with you all, God bwy Ladies.
    2950 God bwy you Loue. exit Ofelia.
    Lear. Griefe vpon griefe, my father murdered,
    My si ster thus di stracted:
    3034.1 Cursed be his soule that wrought this wicked act.
    2960 king Content you good Leartes for a time,
    2960.1 Although I know your griefe is as a floud,
    Brimme full of sorrow, but forbeare a while,
    And thinke already the reuenge is done
    On him that makes you such a haple s s e sonne.
    Lear. You haue preuail'd my Lord, a while I'le striue,
    2963.1 To bury griefe within a tombe of wrath,
    Which once vnhearsed, then the world shall heare
    Leartes had a father he held deere.
    king No more of that, ere many dayes be done,
    2963.5 You shall heare that you do not dreame vpon. exeunt om.