Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: Hamlet (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: David Bevington
  • Textual editor: Eric Rasmussen
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-434-9

    Copyright David Bevington. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: David Bevington
    Peer Reviewed

    Hamlet (Folio 1, 1623)

    274 The Tragedie of Hamlet.
    Without the which we are Pictures, or meere Beasts.
    Last, and as much containing as all these,
    2825Her Brother is in secret come from France,
    Keepes on his wonder, keepes himselfe in clouds,
    And wants not Buzzers to infect his eare
    With pestilent Speeches of his Fathers death,
    Where in necessitie of matter Beggard,
    2830Will nothing sticke our persons to Arraigne
    In eare and eare. O my deere Gertrude, this,
    Like to a murdering Peece in many places,
    Giues me superfluous death. A Noise within.

    Enter a Messenger.
    2835Qu. Alacke, what noyse is this?
    King. Where are my Switzers?
    Let them guard the doore. What is the matter?
    Mes. Saue your selfe, my Lord.
    The Ocean (ouer-peering of his List)
    2840Eates not the Flats with more impittious haste
    Then young Laertes, in a Riotous head,
    Ore-beares your Officers, the rabble call him Lord,
    And as the world were now but to begin,
    Antiquity forgot, Custome not knowne,
    2845The Ratifiers and props of euery word,
    They cry choose we? Laertes shall be King,
    Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds,
    Laertes shall be King, Laertes King.
    Qu. How cheerefully on the false Traile they cry,
    2850Oh this is Counter you false Danish Dogges.
    Noise within. Enter Laertes.
    King. The doores are broke.
    Laer. Where is the King, sirs? Stand you all without.
    All. No, let's come in.
    2855Laer. I pray you giue me leaue.
    Al. We will, we will.
    Laer. I thanke you: Keepe the doore.
    Oh thou vilde King, giue me my Father.
    Qu. Calmely good Laertes.
    2860Laer. That drop of blood, that calmes
    Proclaimes me Bastard:
    Cries Cuckold to my Father, brands the Harlot
    Euen heere betweene the chaste vnsmirched brow
    Of my true Mother.
    2865King. What is the cause Laertes,
    That thy Rebellion lookes so Gyant-like?
    Let him go Gertrude: Do not feare our person:
    There's such Diuinity doth hedge a King,
    That Treason can but peepe to what it would,
    2870Acts little of his will. Tell me Laertes,
    Why thou art thus Incenst? Let him go Gertrude.
    Speake man.
    Laer. Where's my Father?
    King. Dead.
    2875Qu. But not by him.
    King. Let him demand his fill.
    Laer. How came he dead? Ile not be Iuggel'd with.
    To hell Allegeance: Vowes, to the blackest diuell.
    Conscience and Grace, to the profoundest Pit.
    2880I dare Damnation: to this point I stand,
    That both the worlds I giue to negligence,
    Let come what comes: onely Ile be reueng'd
    Most throughly for my Father.
    King. Who shall stay you?
    2885Laer. My Will, not all the world,
    And for my meanes, Ile husband them so well,
    They shall go farre with little.
    King. Good Laertes:
    If you desire to know the certaintie
    2890Of your deere Fathers death, if writ in your reuenge,
    That Soop-stake you will draw both Friend and Foe,
    Winner and Looser.
    Laer. None but his Enemies.
    King. Will you know them then.
    2895La. To his good Friends, thus wide Ile ope my Armes:
    And like the kinde Life-rend'ring Politician,
    Repast them with my blood.
    King. Why now you speake
    Like a good Childe, and a true Gentleman.
    2900That I am guiltlesse of your Fathers death,
    And am most sensible in greefe for it,
    It shall as leuell to your Iudgement pierce
    As day do's to your eye.
    A noise within. Let her come in.
    2905 Enter Ophelia.
    Laer. How now? what noise is that?
    Oh heate drie vp my Braines, teares seuen times salt,
    Burne out the Sence and Vertue of mine eye.
    By Heauen, thy madnesse shall be payed by waight,
    2910Till our Scale turnes the beame. Oh Rose of May,
    Deere Maid, kinde Sister, sweet Ophelia:
    Oh Heauens, is't possible, a yong Maids wits,
    Should be as mortall as an old mans life?
    Nature is fine in Loue, and where 'tis fine,
    2915It sends some precious instance of it selfe
    After the thing it loues.
    They bore him bare fac'd on the Beer,
    Hey non nony, nony, hey nony:
    And on his graue raines many a teare,
    2920Fare you well my Doue.
    Laer. Had'st thou thy wits, and did'st perswade Re-
    uenge, it could not moue thus.
    Ophe. You must sing downe a-downe, and you call
    him a-downe-a. Oh, how the wheele becomes it? It is
    2925the false Steward that stole his masters daughter.
    Laer. This nothings more then matter.
    Ophe. There's Rosemary, that's for Remembraunce.
    Pray loue remember: and there is Paconcies, that's for
    2930Laer. A document in madnesse, thoughts & remem-
    brance fitted.
    Ophe. There's Fennell for you, and Columbines: ther's
    Rew for you, and heere's some for me. Wee may call it
    Herbe-Grace a Sundaies: Oh you must weare your Rew
    2935with a difference. There's a Daysie, I would giue you
    some Violets, but they wither'd all when my Father dy-
    ed: They say, he made a good end;
    For bonny sweet Robin is all my ioy.
    Laer. Thought, and Affliction, Passion, Hell it selfe:
    2940She turnes to Fauour, and to prettinesse.
    And will he not come againe,
    And will he not come againe:
    No, no, he is dead, go to thy Death-bed,
    He neuer wil come againe.
    2945His Beard as white as Snow,
    All Flaxen was his Pole:
    He is gone, he is gone, and we cast away mone,
    Gramercy on his Soule.
    And of all Christian Soules, I pray God.
    2950God buy ye. Exeunt Ophelia
    Laer. Do you see this, you Gods?
    King. Laertes, I must common with your greefe,
    Or you deny me right: go but apart,