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  • Title: Hamlet (Quarto 2, 1604)
  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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 2, 1604)

    Prince of Denmarke.
    As any the mo st vulgar thing to sence,
    Why should we in our peui sh oppo sition
    Take it to hart, fie, tis a fault to heauen,
    A fault again st the dead, a fault to nature,
    285 To reason mo st absurd, whose common theame
    Is death of fathers, and who still hath cryed
    From the fir st course, till he that died to day
    This mu st be so: we pray you throw to earth
    This vnpreuailing woe, and thinke of vs
    290 As of a father, for let the world take note
    You are the mo st imediate to our throne,
    And with no le s s e nobilitie of loue
    Then that which deare st father beares his sonne,
    Doe I impart toward you for your intent
    295 In going back to schoole in Wittenberg,
    It is mo st retrogard to our de sire,
    And we beseech you bend you to remaine
    Heere in the cheare and comfort of our eye,
    Our chiefe st courtier, co sin, and our sonne.
    300 Quee. Let not thy mother loose her prayers Hamlet,
    I pray thee stay with vs, goe not to Wittenberg.
    Ham. I shall in all my be st obay you Madam.
    King. Why tis a louing and a faire reply,
    305 Be as our selfe in Denmarke, Madam come,
    This gentle and vnforc'd accord of Hamlet
    Sits smiling to my hart, in grace whereof,
    No iocond health that Denmarke drinkes to day,
    But the great Cannon to the cloudes shall tell.
    310 And the Kings rowse the heauen shall brute againe,
    Respeaking earthly thunder; come away. Flori sh . Exeunt all, but Hamlet
    Ham. O that this too too sallied fle sh would melt,
    Thaw and resolue it selfe into a dewe,
    315 Or that the euerla sting had not fixt
    His cannon gain st seale slaughter, ô God, God,
    How wary, stale, flat, and vnprofitable
    Seeme to me all the vses of this world?
    Fie on't, ah fie, tis an vnweeded garden
    320 That growes to seede, things rancke and grose in nature,
    Po s s e s s e it meerely that it should come thus
    But
    C.