 | Hamlet, Prince of Denmark |  |
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ACT I.
SCENE I.
An open place before the palace.Enter Bernardo and Francisco, two Centinels.
BERNARDO.
Who's there?
FRANCISCO.
Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself.
BERNARDO.
Long live the King!
FRANCISCO.
Bernardo?
BERNARDO.
He.
FRANCISCO.
You come most carefully upon your hour.
BERNARDO.
'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed, Francisco.
FRANCISCO.
For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold,
And I am sick at heart.
BERNARDO.
Have you had quiet guard?
FRANCISCO.
Not a mouse stirring
BERNARDO.
Well, good night.
If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.
Enter Horatio and Marcellus.
FRANCISCO.
I think I hear them. Stand ho, who's there?
HORATIO.
Friends to this ground.
MARCELLUS.
And liegemen to the Dane.
FRANCISCO.
Good night.
MARCELLUS.
Farewell, honest soldier: who hath relieved you?
FRANCISCO.
Bernardo has my place. Good night.
Exit Francisco.
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Holla, Bernardo!
BERNARDO.
Say, what, is Horatio there?
HORATIO.
A piece of him.
BERNARDO.
Welcome, Horatio. Welcome, good Marcellus.
MARCELLUS.
What, has this thing appeared again tonight?
BERNARDO.
I have seen nothing.
MARCELLUS.
Horatio says 'tis but a fantasy,
And will not let belief take hold of him
Touching the dreadful sight, twice seen of us.
Therefore I have entreated him along
With us to watch the minutes of this night,
That, if again this apparition come,
He may approve our eyes and speak to it.
HORATIO.
'Twill not appear.
BERNARDO.
’Sit down awhile,
And ’let us once again assail your ears,
That are so fortified against our story,
What we have two nights seen.
HORATIO.
Well, ’sit we down,
And ’let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
BERNARDO.
Last night of all,
When yon same star that's westward from the pole
Had made his course t'enlighten that part of heaven
Where it now burns, Marcellus and myself,
The bell then beating one—
Enter Ghost.
MARCELLUS.
Peace! break thee off! Look where it comes again!
BERNARDO.
In the same figure, like the King that's dead.
MARCELLUS.
’Thou art a scholar;’ speak to it Horatio.
BERNARDO.
’Looks it not like the King? Mark it, Horatio.
HORATIO.
Most like. ’It startles me with fear and wonder.
BERNARDO.
It would be spoke to.
MARCELLUS.
Speak to it, Horatio.
HORATIO.
What art thou that usurp'st this time of night
Together with that fair and warlike form
In which the majesty of buried Denmark
Did sometimes march? I charge thee speak!
MARCELLUS.
It is offended.
BERNARDO.
See, it stalks away.
HORATIO.
Stay! Speak, speak! I charge thee speak.
Exit Ghost.
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'Tis gone and will not answer.
BERNARDO.
How now, Horatio? You tremble and look pale:
Is not this something more than fantasy?
What think you of it?
HORATIO.
I could not this believe
Without the sensible and true avouch
Of mine own eyes.
MARCELLUS.
Is it not like the King?
HORATIO.
As thou art to thyself.
Such was the very armor he had on
When th' ambitious Norway he combated;
’So frowned he once when, in an angry parle,
’He smote the sledded Pole-ax on the ice.
’'Tis strange—’
MARCELLUS.
Thus twice before, and just at the same hour,
With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
HORATIO.
In what particular thought to work I know not;
But, in the scope of mine opinion,
This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
MARCELLUS.
Pray 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 cost 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-laborer with the day?
’Who is't that can inform me?’
HORATIO.
That can I;
’At least the whisper goes so.’ Our last king,
Whose image ev'n but now appeared to us,
Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
’Thereto pricked on by a most emulent pride,’
Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet
’(For so this side of our known world esteemed him)’
Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a sealed compact,
Well ratified by law and heraldry,
Did forfeit, with his life, all these his lands
’Which he stood seized on, to the conqueror;
’Against the which a moiety competent
’Was gaged by our king; which had returned
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’Had he been vanquisher, as, by the same compact
’And carriage of the article's design
’His fell to Hamlet.’ Now, sir, young Fortinbras,
’Of unimproved mettle hot and full,’
Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there,
Sharked up a list of lawless 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 compulsive,’ those aforesaid 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 romage in the land.’
BERNARDO.
I think it is no other but even so.
Well may it sort that this portentous figure
Comes armed through our watch so like the King
That was and is the question of the wars.
HORATIO.
’A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
’In the most high and flourishing state of Rome,
’A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
’The grave stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
’Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets;
’Stars shone with trains of fire, dews of blood fell,
’Disasters veiled the sun; and the moist star
’Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands
’Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse.
’And ev'n the like precurse of fierce events,
’As harbingers preceding still the fates
’And prologue to the omen coming on,
’Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
’Unto our climatures and countrymen.’
Enter Ghost.
But soft! behold! Lo, where it comes again!
I'll cross it, though it blast me.—Stay, illusion!
(Spreading his arms.)
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.
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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!
MARCELLUS.
Shall I strike it with my partisan?
HORATIO.
Do, if it will not stand.
BERNARDO.
'Tis here!
HORATIO.
'Tis here!
MARCELLUS.
'Tis gone.—
We do it wrong, being so majestical,
To offer it the show of violence;
It is ever, as the air, invulnerable,
And our vain blows malicious mockery.
BERNARDO.
It was about to speak, when the cock crew.
HORATIO.
And then it started, like a guilty thing
Upon a fearful summons. I have heard
The cock, that is the trumpet to 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,
Th' extravagant and erring spirit hies
To his confine.’ And of the truth herein
’This present object made probation.
MARCELLUS.
’It faded at the crowing of the cock.
’Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
’Wherein our Savior'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, no witch hath power to charm,
’So hallowed and so gracious is the time.
HORATIO.
’So have I 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 tonight
Unto young Hamlet. Perhaps
This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.
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’As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?’
MARCELLUS.
Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know
Where we shall find him most conveniently.
Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The palace.Enter King, Queen, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes,’ Voltimand, Cornelius,’ Gentlemen and Guards.
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 woe,
Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature
That we with wisest sorrow think on him
Together with remembrance of ourselves.
Therefore our sometimes sister, now our queen,
Th' imperial jointress to 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 barred
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 failed to pester us with message
’Importing the surrender of those lands
’Lost by his father, with all bonds 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 bedrid, scarcely hears
’Of this his nephew's purpose, to suppress
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’The lists, and full proportions, are all made
’Out of his subjects;’ and we now dispatch
’You, good Cornelius, and you Voltimand,’
Ambassadors to Norway,
’Giving to you no further personal power
’Of treaty with the King, more than the scope
’Of these dilated articles allow.
’Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty.
’CORNELIUS, VOLTIMAND.
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 wouldst 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 wouldst thou have, Laertes?’
LAERTES.
My dear lord,
Your leave and favor 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 favor.’
KING.
Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius?
POLONIUS.
He hath, my lord, by laborsome petition,
Wrong from me my slow leave; and at the last,
Upon his will I sealed my hard consent.
’I do beseech you give him leave to go.’
KING.
Take thy fair hour, Laertes. Time be thine,
’And thy best graces’ spend it at thy will!
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son—
HAMLET.
A little more than kin, and less than kind.
KING.
How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
HAMLET.
Not so, my lord. I am too much i' th' sun.
QUEEN.
Good Hamlet, cast thy nightly color off,
And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Do not for ever with thy veiled lids
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Thou know'st 'tis common, all that live must die,
Passing through nature to eternity.
HAMLET.
Ay, madam, it is common.
QUEEN.
If it be,
Why seems it so particular with thee?
HAMLET.
Seems, madam! Nay, it is. I know not “seems.”
'Tis not alone this mourning suit, good mother,
Together with all forms, modes, shapes 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 woe.
KING.
'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,
To give these mourning duties to your father;
But you must know, your father lost a father;
That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound
In filial obligation for some term
To do obsequious sorrow. But to persevere
In obstinate condolment does express
An impious stubbornness to Heaven.
We pray you, throw to earth
This unprevailing woe, and think of us
As of a father; and let the world take note,
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’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.
HAMLET.
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 unforced accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof,
No jocund health that Denmark drinks today
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell.
Exeunt.
Manet Hamlet.
HAMLET.
O that this too, too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed
His cannon 'gainst self-murder!
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. So loving to my mother
That he permitted not the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly! Why, she would hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on; and yet, within a month—
Let me not think on't! Frailty, thy name is woman!—
A little month!—married with mine uncle,
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Than I to Hercules.
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.
’But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue!’
Enter Horatio, Bernardo, and Marcellus.
HORATIO.
Hail to your lordship!
HAMLET.
I am glad to see you well:
Horatio? or I forget myself.
HORATIO.
The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.
HAMLET.
Sir, my good friend—I'll change that name with you.
And what makes you from Wittenberg, Horatio?
Marcellus!
MARCELLUS.
My good lord!
HAMLET.
I'm very glad to see you. Good ev'n, sir.
But what, faith, makes you from Wittenberg?
HORATIO.
A truant disposition, good my lord.
HAMLET.
I would not have your enemy say so,
Nor shall you do mine ear that violence
To be a witness of your own report
Against yourself. I know you are no truant.
But what is your affair in Elsinoor?
We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
HORATIO.
My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.
HAMLET.
I prithee do not mock me, fellow student,
I think it was to see my mother's wedding.
HORATIO.
Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.
HAMLET.
Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral baked meats
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
Ere I had seen that day, Horatio.
My father—methinks I see my father.
HORATIO.
Where, my lord?
HAMLET.
In my mind's eye, Horatio.
HORATIO.
I saw him once. He was a goodly king.
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He was a man, take him for all in all.
I shall not look upon his like again.
HORATIO.
My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
HAMLET.
Saw? who?
HORATIO.
My lord, the king your father.
HAMLET.
The king, my father?
HORATIO.
Defer your admiration for a while
With an attentive ear, till I deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This wonder to you.
HAMLET.
Pray, let me hear.
HORATIO.
Two nights together had these gentlemen
(Marcellus and Bernardo) on their watch
In the dead waste and middle of the night
Been thus encountered. A figure like your father,
And armed exactly cap-à-pie,
Appears before them, and with solemn march
Goes slowly and stately by them. Thrice he walked
’By their oppressed and fear-surprised eyes’
Within my rapier's length; whilst they, bestilled
Almost to jelly with their 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 delivered, both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes.
HAMLET.
But where was this?
MARCELLUS.
My lord, upon the platform where we watched.
HAMLET.
Did you not speak to it?
HORATIO.
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 vanished from our sight.
HAMLET.
'Tis very strange.
HORATIO.
As I do live, my honored lord, 'tis true;
And we did think it then our duty
To let you know it.
HAMLET.
Indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.
Hold you the watch tonight?
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We do, my lord.
HAMLET.
Armed, say you?
BOTH.
Armed, my lord.
HAMLET.
From top to toe?
BOTH.
From head to foot.
HAMLET.
Then saw you not his face?
HORATIO.
O, yes my lord! He wore his beaver up.
HAMLET.
What, look'd he frowningly?
HORATIO.
A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
HAMLET.
Pale or red?
HORATIO.
Nay, very pale.
HAMLET.
And fixed his eyes upon you?
HORATIO.
Most constantly.
HAMLET.
I would I had been there.
HORATIO.
It would have much amazed you.
HAMLET.
Very like. Stayed it long?
HORATIO.
While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
ALL.
Longer, longer.
HORATIO.
Not when I saw't.
HAMLET.
His beard was grizzled?
HORATIO.
It was, as I have seen it in his life,
A sable silvered.
HAMLET.
I'll watch tonight. Perchance 'twill walk again.
HORATIO.
I warrant, my lord, it will.
HAMLET.
If it assumes 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 concealed this sight,
Let it require your silence still;
And whatsoever else shall hap tonight,
Give it an understanding but no tongue.
I will requite your loves. So, fare ye well.
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.
ALL.
Our duty to your honor.
Exeunt.
HAMLET.
Your loves, as mine to you. Farewell.
My father's spirit in arms! All is not well.
I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come!
Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise,
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them from men's eyes.
Ex[it].
| Hamlet, Prince of Denmark | |