Like beasts which you shun beastly, and may save,


But to look back in frown: stand, stand.


Three thousand confident, in act as many--


For three performers are the file when all


The rest do nothing--with this word Stand, stand,


Accommodated by the place, more charming


With their own nobleness, which could have turnd


A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks,


Part shame, part spirit renewd; that some,


Damnd in the first beginners!--gan to look


The way that they did, and to grin like lions


Upon the pikes o the hunters. Then began


A rout, confusion thick; forthwith they fly


Chickens, the way which they stoopd eagles; slaves,


The strides they victors made: and now our cowards,


The life o the need: having found the backdoor open


Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound!


Some slain before; some dying; some their friends


Oer borne i the former wave: ten, chased by one,


Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:


Those that would die or ere resist are grown


A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys.


Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,


Preserved the Britons, was the Romans bane.


Who dares not stand his foe, Ill be his friend;


I know hell quickly fly my friendship too.


To be i the field, and ask what news? of me!


To-day how many would have given their honours


To have saved their carcasses! took heel to dot,


And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charmd,


Could not find death where I did hear him groan,


Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly monster,


Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,


Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we


That draw his knives i the war. Well, I will find him


The part I came in: fight I will no more,


But yield me to the veriest hind that shall


Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is


Here made by the Roman; great the answer be


Britons must take. For me, my ransoms death;


On either side I come to spend my breath;


Which neither here Ill keep nor bear again,


Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius is taken.


Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels.


There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,


But none of em can be found. Stand! whos there?


Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds


What crows have peckd them here. He brags


As if he were of note: bring him to the king.


Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS,  PISANIO, Soldiers, Attendants, and Roman Captives.  The Captains present POSTHUMUS LEONATUS to  CYMBELINE, who delivers him over to a Gaoler: then exeunt omnes


Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and two Gaolers


You shall not now be stoln, you have locks upon you;


Most welcome, bondage! for thou art away,


Than one thats sick o the gout; since he had rather


By the sure physician, death, who is the key


To unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fetterd


More than my shanks and wrists: you good gods, give me


The penitent instrument to pick that bolt,


Then, free for ever! Ist enough I am sorry?


So children temporal fathers do appease;


Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent?


Desired more than constraind: to satisfy,


If of my freedom tis the main part, take


I know you are more clement than vile men,


Who of their broken debtors take a third,


A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again


On their abatement: thats not my desire:


For Imogens dear life take mine; and though


Tis not so dear, yet tis a life; you coind it:


Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp;


Though light, take pieces for the figures sake:


You rather mine, being yours: and so, great powers,


If you will take this audit, take this life,


Solemn music. Enter, as in an apparition,  SICILIUS LEONATUS, father to Posthumus Leonatus,  an old man, attired like a warrior; leading in  his hand an ancient matron, his wife, and mother  to Posthumus Leonatus, with music before them:  then, after other music, follow the two young  Leonati, brothers to Posthumus Leonatus, with  wounds as they died in the wars. They circle Posthumus Leonatus round, as he lies sleeping


Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him


That he deserved the praise o the world,


Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning, sitting  upon an eagle: he throws a thunderbolt. The Apparitions fall on their knees


No more, you petty spirits of region low,


Offend our hearing; hush! How dare you ghosts


Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know,


Sky-planted batters all rebelling coasts?


Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest


Upon your never-withering banks of flowers:


No care of yours it is; you know tis ours.


Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift,


Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift:


His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent.


Our Jovial star reignd at his birth, and in


Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade.


And happier much by his affliction made.


This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein


Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine:


Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.


He came in thunder; his celestial breath


More sweet than our blest fields: his royal bird


Prunes the immortal wing and cloys his beak,


The marble pavement closes, he is enterd


His radiant root. Away! and, to be blest,


Let us with care perform his great behest.


[Waking]  Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire, and begot


A mother and two brothers: but, O scorn!


Gone! they went hence so soon as they were born:


And so I am awake. Poor wretches that depend


On greatness favour dream as I have done,


Wake and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve:


Many dream not to find, neither deserve,


That have this golden chance and know not why.


What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O rare one!


Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment


Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects


So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers,


When as a lions whelp shall, to himself unknown,


without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of


tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be


lopped branches, which, being dead many years,


shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock and


freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries,


Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.


Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen


Tongue and brain not; either both or nothing;


Or senseless speaking or a speaking such


you be ready for that, you are well cooked.


A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is,


you shall be called to no more payments, fear no


more tavern-bills; which are often the sadness of


parting, as the procuring of mirth: you come in


flint for want of meat, depart reeling with too


much drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and


sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain


both empty; the brain the heavier for being too


light, the purse too light, being drawn of


heaviness: of this contradiction you shall now be


quit. O, the charity of a penny cord! It sums up


thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and


creditor but it; of whats past, is, and to come,


the discharge: your neck, sir, is pen, book and


I am merrier to die than thou art to live.


Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the


tooth-ache: but a man that were to sleep your


sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he


would change places with his officer; for, look you,


sir, you know not which way you shall go.


Your death has eyes in s head then; I have not seen


him so pictured: you must either be directed by


some that take upon them to know, or do take upon


yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or


jump the after inquiry on your own peril: and how


you shall speed in your journeys end, I think youll


I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to


direct them the way I am going, but such as wink and


What an infinite mock is this, that a man should


have the best use of eyes to see the way of


blindness! I am sure hangings the way of winking.


Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king.


Thou bringst good news; I am called to be made free.


Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead.


Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young


gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my


conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live,


for all he be a Roman: and there be some of them


too that die against their wills; so should I, if I


were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one


mind good; O, there were desolation of gaolers and


gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but


Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and Attendants


Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made


Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart


That the poor soldier that so richly fought,


Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked breast


Steppd before larges of proof, cannot be found:


Such precious deeds in one that promises nought


He hath been searchd among the dead and living,


To you, the liver, heart and brain of Britain,


By whom I grant she lives. Tis now the time


Further to boast were neither true nor modest,


Arise my knights o the battle: I create you


Companions to our person and will fit you


Theres business in these faces. Why so sadly


Greet you our victory? you look like Romans,


Would this report become? But I consider,


By medicine life may be prolongd, yet death


Will seize the doctor too. How ended she?


With horror, madly dying, like her life,


Which, being cruel to the world, concluded


Most cruel to herself. What she confessd


I will report, so please you: these her women


Can trip me, if I err; who with wet cheeks


First, she confessd she never loved you, only


Married your royalty, was wife to your place;


And, but she spoke it dying, I would not


Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.


Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love


Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life,


But that her flight prevented it, she had


Who is t can read a woman? Is there more?


More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had


For you a mortal mineral; which, being took,


Should by the minute feed on life and lingering


By inches waste you: in which time she purposed,


By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to


When she had fitted you with her craft, to work


But, failing of her end by his strange absence,


Grew shameless-desperate; opend, in despite


Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented


The evils she hatchd were not effected; so


Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;


Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart,


That thought her like her seeming; it had


To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter!


That it was folly in me, thou mayst say,


And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!


Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the Soothsayer, and other  Roman Prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS LEONATUS behind, and IMOGEN


Thou comest not, Caius, now for tribute that


The Britons have razed out, though with the loss


Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit


That their good souls may be appeased with slaughter


Of you their captives, which ourself have granted:


Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day


Was yours by accident; had it gone with us,


Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods


Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives


May be calld ransom, let it come: sufficeth


Augustus lives to think ont: and so much


For my peculiar care. This one thing only


So feat, so nurse-like: let his virtue join


With my request, which I make bold your highness


Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm,


Though he have served a Roman: save him, sir,


And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore,


To say live, boy: neer thank thy master; live:


And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt,


Fitting my bounty and thy state, Ill give it;


I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad;


Theres other work in hand: I see a thing


Bitter to me as death: your life, good master,


He leaves me, scorns me: briefly die their joys


That place them on the truth of girls and boys.


I love thee more and more: think more and more


Whats best to ask. Knowst him thou lookst on? speak,


Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?


Than I to your highness; who, being born your vassal,


Ill tell you, sir, in private, if you please


And lend my best attention. Whats thy name?


Ill be thy master: walk with me; speak freely.


Who died, and was Fidele. What think you?


Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; forbear;


Creatures may be alike: were t he, I am sure


Since she is living, let the time run on


Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;


Or, by our greatness and the grace of it,


Which is our honour, bitter torture shall


Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak to him.


My boon is, that this gentleman may render


[Aside]                 Whats that to him?


Thoult torture me to leave unspoken that


I am glad to be constraind to utter that


Which torments me to conceal. By villany


Whom thou didst banish; and--which more may


Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?


For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits


Quail to remember--Give me leave; I faint.


My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength:


I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will


Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak.


That struck the hour!--it was in Rome,--accursed


The mansion where!--twas at a feast,--O, would


Our viands had been poisond, or at least


Those which I heaved to head!--the good Posthumus--


What should I say? he was too good to be


Where ill men were; and was the best of all


Amongst the rarest of good ones,--sitting sadly,


For beauty that made barren the swelld boast


Of him that best could speak, for feature, laming


The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva.


Postures beyond brief nature, for condition,


Loves woman for, besides that hook of wiving,


Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus,


And, not dispraising whom we praised,--therein


His mistress picture; which by his tongue


And then a mind put int, either our brags


Were crackd of kitchen-trolls, or his description


Your daughters chastity--there it begins.


He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams,


And she alone were cold: whereat I, wretch,


Made scruple of his praise; and wagerd with him


Pieces of gold gainst this which then he wore


In suit the place ofs bed and win this ring


By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight,


Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;


Of Phoebus wheel, and might so safely, had it


Been all the worth ofs car. Away to Britain


Post I in this design: well may you, sir,


Remember me at court; where I was taught


Of your chaste daughter the wide difference


Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus quenchd


Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain


And, to be brief, my practise so prevaild,


That I returnd with simular proof enough


With tokens thus, and thus; averting notes


Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,--


O cunning, how I got it!--nay, some marks


Of secret on her person, that he could not


But think her bond of chastity quite crackd,


[Advancing]             Ay, so thou dost,


Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool,


Thats due to all the villains past, in being,


To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison,


Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out


That all the abhorred things o the earth amend


By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,


That killd thy daughter:--villain-like, I lie--


That caused a lesser villain than myself,


A sacrilegious thief, to dot: the temple


Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.


Spit, and throw stone s, cast mire upon me, set


The dogs o the street to bay me: every villain


Shalls have a play of this? Thou scornful page,


Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus!


You neer killd Imogen til now. Help, help!


If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me


Thou gavest me poison: dangerous fellow, hence!


The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if


That box I gave you was not thought by me


A precious thing: I had it from the queen.


I left out one thing which the queen confessd.


Which must approve thee honest: If Pisanio


Have, said she, given his mistress that confection


Which I gave him for cordial, she is served


To temper poisons for her, still pretending


In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs,


Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose


Was of more danger, did compound for her


A certain stuff, which, being taen, would cease


The present power of life, but in short time


Do their due functions. Have you taen of it?


Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?


What, makest thou me a dullard in this act?


[Kneeling]               Your blessing, sir.


[To GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS]  Though you did love


O, she was nought; and long of her it was


That we meet here so strangely: but her son


Now fear is from me, Ill speak troth. Lord Cloten,


With his sword drawn; foamd at the mouth, and swore,


If I discoverd not which way she was gone,


To seek her on the mountains near to Milford;


Where, in a frenzy, in my masters garments,


Which he enforced from me, away he posts


With unchaste purpose and with oath to violate


I would not thy good deeds should from my lips


Pluck a bard sentence: prithee, valiant youth,


A most incivil one: the wrongs he did me


Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me


With language that would make me spurn the sea,


If it could so roar to me: I cut offs head;


And am right glad he is not standing here


By thine own tongue thou art condemnd, and must


This man is better than the man he slew,


More of thee merited than a band of Clotens


Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,


But I will prove that two ons are as good


As I have given out him. My sons, I must,


For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech,


First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;


I am too blunt and saucy: heres my knee:


Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir,


These two young gentlemen, that call me father


And think they are my sons, are none of mine;


They are the issue of your loins, my liege,


So sure as you your fathers. I, old Morgan,


Am that Belarius whom you sometime banishd:


Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment


Itself, and all my treason; that I sufferd


Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes--


For such and so they are--these twenty years


Have I traind up: those arts they have as I


Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as


Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,


Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children


For that which I did then: beaten for loyalty


The more of you twas felt, the more it shaped


Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,


Here are your sons again; and I must lose


Two of the sweetst companions in the world.


The benediction of these covering heavens


Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy


The service that you three have done is more


Unlike than this thou tellst. I lost my children:


If these be they, I know not how to wish


Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:


Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lappd


In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand


Of his queen mother, which for more probation


Who hath upon him still that natural stamp:


It was wise natures end in the donation,


A mother to the birth of three? Neer mother


Rejoiced deliverance more. Blest pray you be,


That, after this strange starting from your orbs,


I have got two worlds by t. O my gentle brothers,


Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter


But I am truest speaker you calld me brother,


When I was but your sister; I you brothers,


When shall I hear all through? This fierce


Hath to it circumstantial branches, which


Distinction should be rich in. Where? how lived You?


And when came you to serve our Roman captive?


How parted with your brothers? how first met them?


Why fled you from the court? and whither? These,


And your three motives to the battle, with


I know not how much more, should be demanded;


From chance to chance: but nor the time nor place


And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye


On him, her brother, me, her master, hitting


Each object with a joy: the counterchange


Is severally in all. Lets quit this ground,


And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.


Thou art my brother; so well hold thee ever.


You are my father too, and did relieve me,


Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too,


The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought,


He would have well becomed this place, and graced


The soldier that did company these three


The purpose I then followd. That I was he,


Speak, Iachimo: I had you down and might


But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,


As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you,


Which I so often owe: but your ring first;


And here the bracelet of the truest princess


The power that I have on you is, to spare you;


The malice towards you to forgive you: live,


Well learn our freeness of a son-in-law;


As you did mean indeed to be our brother;


Your servant, princes. Good my lord of Rome,


Call forth your soothsayer: as I slept, methought


Appeard to me, with other spritely shows


Of mine own kindred: when I waked, I found


This label on my bosom; whose containing


Is so from sense in hardness, that I can


[Reads]  When as a lions whelp shall, to himself


unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a


piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar


shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many


years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old


stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end


his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in


The fit and apt construction of thy name,


The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,


Which we call mollis aer; and mollis aer


We term it mulier: which mulier I divine


Is this most constant wife; who, even now,


Unknown to you, unsought, were clippd about


Personates thee: and thy loppd branches point


Thy two sons forth; who, by Belarius stoln,


For many years thought dead, are now revived,


To the majestic cedar joind, whose issue


My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius,


Although the victor, we submit to Caesar,


To pay our wonted tribute, from the which


Whom heavens, in justice, both on her and hers,


Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke


Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant


Is full accomplishd; for the Roman eagle,


From south to west on wing soaring aloft,


Lessend herself, and in the beams o the sun


So vanishd: which foreshowd our princely eagle,


And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils


From our blest altars. Publish we this peace


To all our subjects. Set we forward: let


Friendly together: so through Luds-town march:


Our peace well ratify; seal it with feasts.


Set on there! Never was a war did cease,


Ere bloody hands were washd, with such a peace.


SCENE I. Elsinore. A platform before the castle.


FRANCISCO at his post. Enter to him BERNARDO


Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.


Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco.


For this relief much thanks: tis bitter cold,


The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.


I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Whos there?


Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus.


What, has this thing appeard again to-night?


And will not let belief take hold of him


Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us:


With us to watch the minutes of this night;


He may approve our eyes and speak to it.


When yond same star thats westward from the pole


Had made his course to illume that part of heaven


Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,


Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!


In the same figure, like the king thats dead.


Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.


Looks it not like the king?  mark it, Horatio.


Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder.


What art thou that usurpst this time of night,


Together with that fair and warlike form


Did sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, speak!


Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak!


How now, Horatio! you tremble and look pale:


Is not this something more than fantasy?


So frownd he once, when, in an angry parle,


He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice.


Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour,


With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.


In what particular thought to work I know not;


But in the gross and scope of my opinion,


This bodes some strange eruption to our state.


Good now, sit down, and 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 cast of brazen cannon,


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-labourer with the day:


At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king,


Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,


Thereto prickd on by a most emulate pride,


Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet--


For so this side of our known world esteemd him--


Did slay this Fortinbras; who by a seald compact,


Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands


Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror:


Was gaged by our king; which had returnd


Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same covenant,


His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras,


Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there


That hath a stomach int; which is no other--


And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands


So by his father lost: and this, I take it,


The source of this our watch and the chief head


Of this post-haste and romage in the land.


Well may it sort that this portentous figure


Comes armed through our watch; so like the king


That was and is the question of these wars.


In the most high and palmy state of Rome,


The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead


Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets:


As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,


Disasters in the sun; and the moist star


Upon whose influence Neptunes empire stands


Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse:


And even the like precurse of fierce events,


Have heaven and earth together demonstrated


But soft, behold! lo, where it comes again!


Ill cross it, though it blast me. Stay, illusion!


If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,


That may to thee do ease and grace to me,


Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid, O, speak!


For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,


Speak of it: stay, and speak! Stop it, Marcellus.


It was about to speak, when the cock crew.


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,


Some say that ever gainst that season comes


Wherein our Saviours birth is celebrated,


The 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, nor witch hath power to charm,


So have I heard and do in part believe it.


But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,


Walks oer the dew of yon high eastward hill:


Break we our watch up; and by my advice,


Let us impart what we have seen to-night


This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.


Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,


As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?


Lets dot, I pray; and I this morning know


Where we shall find him most conveniently.


SCENE II. A room of state in the castle.


Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, HAMLET,  POLONIUS, LAERTES, VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, Lords, and Attendants


Though yet of Hamlet our dear brothers death


The memory be green, and that it us befitted


To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom


Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature


That we with wisest sorrow think on him,


Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,


The imperial jointress to this warlike state,


Have we, as twere with a defeated joy,--


With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage,


In equal scale weighing delight and dole,--


Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone


With this affair along. For all, our thanks.


Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras,


Or thinking by our late dear brothers death


Our state to be disjoint and out of frame,


Colleagued with the dream of his advantage,


He hath not faild to pester us with message,


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


Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears


Of this his nephews purpose,--to suppress


His further gait herein; in that the levies,


The lists and full proportions, are all made


Out of his subject: and we here dispatch


You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand,


For bearers of this greeting to old Norway;


To business with the king, more than the scope


Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty.


In that and all things will we show our duty.


And now, Laertes, whats the news with you?


You told us of some suit; what ist, Laertes?


And loose 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.


Your leave and favour to return to France;


From whence though willingly I came to Denmark,


Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,


My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France


And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.


Have you your fathers leave? What says Polonius?


He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave


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,--


[Aside]  A little more than kin, and less than kind.


How is it that the clouds still hang on you?


Not so, my lord; I am too much i the sun.


Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off,


And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.


Thou knowst tis common; all that lives must die,


Seems, madam! nay it is; I know not seems.


Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,


Together with all forms, moods, 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.


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


To do obsequious sorrow: but to persever


Of impious stubbornness; tis unmanly grief;


It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,


For what we know must be and is as common


Take it to heart? Fie! tis a fault to heaven,


A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,


To reason most absurd: whose common theme


Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,


From the first corse till he that died to-day,


This must be so. We pray you, throw to earth


As of a father: for let the world take note,


You are the most immediate to our throne;


Than that which dearest father bears his son,


Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye,


Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.


Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet:


I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.


This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet


Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof,


No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day,


But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell,


And the kings rouse the heavens all bruit again,


O, that this too too solid flesh would melt


His canon gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!


How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable,


Fie ont! ah 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:


Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother


That he might not beteem the winds of heaven


Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!


Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,


By what it fed on: and yet, within a month--


Let me not think ont--Frailty, thy name is woman!--


A little month, or ere those shoes were old


With which she followd my poor fathers body,


Like Niobe, all tears:--why she, even she--


O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,


Would have mournd longer--married with my uncle,


My fathers brother, but no more like my father


Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears


Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,


She married. O, most wicked speed, to post


With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!


But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.


The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.


Sir, my good friend; Ill change that name with you:


And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? Marcellus?


I am very glad to see you. Good even, sir.


But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?


Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,


Against yourself: I know you are no truant.


Well teach you to drink deep ere you depart.


My lord, I came to see your fathers funeral.


I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student;


I think it was to see my mothers wedding.


Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked meats


Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.


Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven


Two nights together had these gentlemen,


In the dead vast and middle of the night,


Been thus encounterd. A figure like your father,


Appears before them, and with solemn march


Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walkd


By their oppressd and fear-surprised eyes,


Within his truncheons length; whilst they, distilled


Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me


And I with them the third night kept the watch;


Where, as they had deliverd, both in time,


Form of the thing, each word made true and good,


The apparition comes: I knew your father;


My lord, upon the platform where we watchd.


But answer made it none: yet once methought


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,


As I do live, my honourd lord, tis true;


And we did think it writ down in our duty


Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.


A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.


While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.


Ill speak to it, though hell itself should gape


And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,


If you have hitherto conceald this sight,


Let it be tenable in your silence still;


Give it an understanding, but no tongue:


I will requite your loves. So, fare you well:


Upon the platform, twixt eleven and twelve,


My fathers 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 oerwhelm them, to mens eyes.


For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour,


Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,


The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more.


For nature, crescent, does not grow alone


In thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes,


Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,


And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch


The virtue of his will: but you must fear,


His greatness weighd, his will is not his own;


Carve for himself; for on his choice depends


The safety and health of this whole state;


And therefore must his choice be circumscribed


Unto the voice and yielding of that body


Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,


It fits your wisdom so far to believe it


May give his saying deed; which is no further


Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.


Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,


If with too credent ear you list his songs,


Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open


Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,


And keep you in the rear of your affection,


Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes:


The canker galls the infants of the spring,


Too oft before their buttons be disclosed,


Contagious blastments are most imminent.


Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.


I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,


As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,


Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;


Whiles, like a puffd and reckless libertine,


Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,


I stay too long: but here my father comes.


Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame!


The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,


And you are stayd for. There; my blessing with thee!


See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,


Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.


Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,


Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;


But do not dull thy palm with entertainment


Of each new-hatchd, unfledged comrade. Beware


Beart that the opposed may beware of thee.


Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice;


Take each mans censure, but reserve thy judgment.


But not expressd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;


And they in France of the best rank and station


Are of a most select and generous chief in that.


For loan oft loses both itself and friend,


And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.


This above all: to thine ownself be true,


And it must follow, as the night the day,


Thou canst not then be false to any man.


Farewell: my blessing season this in thee!


Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.


The time invites you; go; your servants tend.


And you yourself shall keep the key of it.


So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.


Given private time to you; and you yourself


Have of your audience been most free and bounteous:


And that in way of caution, I must tell you,


You do not understand yourself so clearly


As it behoves my daughter and your honour.


What is between you? give me up the truth.


He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders


Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl,


Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?


I do not know, my lord, what I should think.


Marry, Ill teach you: think yourself a baby;


That you have taen these tenders for true pay,


Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly;


Or--not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,


Running it thus--youll tender me a fool.


My lord, he hath importuned me with love


Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.


And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,


With almost all the holy vows of heaven.


Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know,


When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul


Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter,


Giving more light than heat, extinct in both,


Even in their promise, as it is a-making,


You must not take for fire. From this time


Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence;


Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,


Believe so much in him, that he is young


Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers,


Not of that dye which their investments show,


Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds,


I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,


As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet.


The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.


Indeed? I heard it not: then it draws near the season


Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.


A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot off, within


The king doth wake to-night and takes his rouse,


Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels;


And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,


The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out


More honourd in the breach than the observance.


Makes us traduced and taxd of other nations:


They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase


From our achievements, though performd at height,


That for some vicious mole of nature in them,


As, in their birth--wherein they are not guilty,


Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason,


Or by some habit that too much oer-leavens


The form of plausive manners, that these men,


Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,


Being natures livery, or fortunes star,--


Their virtues else--be they as pure as grace,


Shall in the general censure take corruption


From that particular fault: the dram of eale


Angels and ministers of grace defend us!


Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damnd,


Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,


Thou comest in such a questionable shape


That I will speak to thee: Ill call thee Hamlet,


Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death,


Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre,


Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws,


To cast thee up again. What may this mean,


That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel


Revisitst thus the glimpses of the moon,


Making night hideous; and we fools of nature


With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?


Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?


It will not speak; then I will follow it.


And for my soul, what can it do to that,


What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord,


And there assume some other horrible form,


Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason


The very place puts toys of desperation,


And makes each petty artery in this body


By heaven, Ill make a ghost of him that lets me!


Lets follow; tis not fit thus to obey him.


Have after. To what issue will this come?


Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.


Where wilt thou lead me? speak; Ill go no further.


When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames


Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing


So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.


Doomd for a certain term to walk the night,


And for the day confined to fast in fires,


Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature


Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid


I could a tale unfold whose lightest word


Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,


Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,


And each particular hair to stand on end,


Like quills upon the fretful porpentine:


To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!


If thou didst ever thy dear father love--


Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.


But this most foul, strange and unnatural.


Haste me to knowt, that I, with wings as swift


And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed


That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,


Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:


Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,


A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark


Rankly abused: but know, thou noble youth,


The serpent that did sting thy fathers life


Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,


With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,--


O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power


The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen:


That it went hand in hand even with the vow


I made to her in marriage, and to decline


Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor


Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven,


So lust, though to a radiant angel linkd,


But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air;


Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard,


That swift as quicksilver it courses through


The natural gates and alleys of the body,


And curd, like eager droppings into milk,


The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine;


Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust,


Thus was I, sleeping, by a brothers hand


Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatchd:


No reckoning made, but sent to my account


O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!


If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;


Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive


Against thy mother aught: leave her to heaven


And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,


To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!


The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,


O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else?


And shall I couple hell? O, fie! Hold, hold, my heart;


And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,


Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat


In this distracted globe. Remember thee!


All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,


That youth and observation copied there;


And thy commandment all alone shall live


Unmixd with baser matter: yes, by heaven!


O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!


That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;


At least Im sure it may be so in Denmark:


So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word;


How say you, then; would heart of man once think it?


Theres neer a villain dwelling in all Denmark


There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave


And so, without more circumstance at all,


I hold it fit that we shake hands and part:


You, as your business and desire shall point you;


Such as it is; and for mine own poor part,


These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.


Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio,


And much offence too. Touching this vision here,


It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you:


For your desire to know what is between us,


Oermaster t as you may. And now, good friends,


As you are friends, scholars and soldiers,


Never make known what you have seen to-night.


Ah, ha, boy! sayst thou so? art thou there,


Come on--you hear this fellow in the cellarage--


Never to speak of this that you have seen,


Hic et ubique? then well shift our ground.


Never to speak of this that you have heard,


Well said, old mole! canst work i the earth so fast?


A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends.


O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!


And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.


There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,


Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. But come;


Here, as before, never, so help you mercy,


As I perchance hereafter shall think meet


That you, at such times seeing me, never shall,


With arms encumberd thus, or this headshake,


Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,


As Well, well, we know, or We could, an if we would,


Or If we list to speak, or There be, an if they might,


That you know aught of me: this not to do,


So grace and mercy at your most need help you, Swear.


With all my love I do commend me to you:


May do, to express his love and friending to you,


God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together;


And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.


The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,


Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo.


You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynaldo,


Marry, well said; very well said. Look you, sir,


Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris;


And how, and who, what means, and where they keep,


What company, at what expense; and finding


By this encompassment and drift of question


That they do know my son, come you more nearer


Than your particular demands will touch it:


Take you, as twere, some distant knowledge of him;


As thus, I know his father and his friends,


And in part him:  do you mark this, Reynaldo?


And in part him; but you may say not well:


Addicted so and so: and there put on him


What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank


As may dishonour him; take heed of that;


But, sir, such wanton, wild and usual slips


Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling,


Faith, no; as you may season it in the charge


You must not put another scandal on him,


Thats not my meaning: but breathe his faults so quaintly


That they may seem the taints of liberty,


You laying these slight sullies on my son,


As twere a thing a little soild i the working, Mark you,


Your party in converse, him you would sound,


Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes


The youth you breathe of guilty, be assured


Good sir, or so, or friend, or gentleman,


And then, sir, does he this--he does--what was I


about to say? By the mass, I was about to say


At closes in the consequence, at friend or so,


At closes in the consequence, ay, marry;


Or then, or then; with such, or such; and, as you say,


There was a gaming; there oertook ins rouse;


There falling out at tennis: or perchance,


Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth:


With windlasses and with assays of bias,


Shall you my son. You have me, have you not?


O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!


Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced;


No hat upon his head; his stockings fould,


Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other;


To speak of horrors,--he comes before me.


He took me by the wrist and held me hard;


Then goes he to the length of all his arm;


And, with his other hand thus oer his brow,


And thrice his head thus waving up and down,


He raised a sigh so piteous and profound


And end his being: that done, he lets me go:


And, with his head over his shoulder turnd,


He seemd to find his way without his eyes;


For out o doors he went without their helps,


And, to the last, bended their light on me.


Come, go with me: I will go seek the king.


And leads the will to desperate undertakings


That does afflict our natures. I am sorry.


What, have you given him any hard words of late?


No, my good lord, but, as you did command,


I am sorry that with better heed and judgment


I had not quoted him: I feard he did but trifle,


And meant to wreck thee; but, beshrew my jealousy!


To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions


To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king:


This must be known; which, being kept close, might


More grief to hide than hate to utter love.


Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and Attendants


Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern!


Moreover that we much did long to see you,


Our hasty sending. Something have you heard


Sith nor the exterior nor the inward man


Resembles that it was. What it should be,


More than his fathers death, that thus hath put him


So much from the understanding of himself,


That, being of so young days brought up with him,


And sith so neighbourd to his youth and havior,


That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court


To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather,


Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus,


Good gentlemen, he hath much talkd of you;


And sure I am two men there are not living


To whom he more adheres. If it will please you


Your visitation shall receive such thanks


Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,


Put your dread pleasures more into command


And here give up ourselves, in the full bent


Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.


Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz:


My too much changed son. Go, some of you,


And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.


Heavens make our presence and our practises


Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and some Attendants


The ambassadors from Norway, my good lord,


Thou still hast been the father of good news.


Have I, my lord? I assure my good liege,


And I do think, or else this brain of mine


As it hath used to do, that I have found


O, speak of that; that do I long to hear.


Give first admittance to the ambassadors;


My news shall be the fruit to that great feast.


Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in.


He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found


The head and source of all your sons distemper.


His fathers death, and our oerhasty marriage.


Re-enter POLONIUS, with VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS


Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway?


Most fair return of greetings and desires.


His nephews levies; which to him appeard


It was against your highness: whereat grieved,


Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests


On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys;


Receives rebuke from Norway, and in fine


To give the assay of arms against your majesty.


Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee,


And his commission to employ those soldiers,


So levied as before, against the Polack:


That it might please you to give quiet pass


Through your dominions for this enterprise,


And at our more considerd time well read,


Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour:


Go to your rest; at night well feast together:


Why day is day, night night, and time is time,


Were nothing but to waste night, day and time.


Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,


And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,


Mad call I it; for, to define true madness,


What ist but to be nothing else but mad?


That he is mad, tis true: tis true tis pity;


And pity tis tis true: a foolish figure;


Mad let us grant him, then: and now remains


That we find out the cause of this effect,


Or rather say, the cause of this defect,


For this effect defective comes by cause:


Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. Perpend.


I have a daughter--have while she is mine--


Hath given me this: now gather, and surmise.


To the celestial and my souls idol, the most


Thats an ill phrase, a vile phrase; beautified is


a vile phrase: but you shall hear. Thus:


In her excellent white bosom, these,  and c.


Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful.


O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers;


I have not art to reckon my groans: but that


I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu.


This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me,


As they fell out by time, by means and place,


I would fain prove so. But what might you think,


When I had seen this hot love on the wing--


As I perceived it, I must tell you that,


Before my daughter told me--what might you,


Or my dear majesty your queen here, think,


Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb,


Or lookd upon this love with idle sight;


What might you think? No, I went round to work,


And my young mistress thus I did bespeak:


Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star;


This must not be: and then I precepts gave her,


That she should lock herself from his resort,


Which done, she took the fruits of my advice;


And he, repulsed--a short tale to make--


Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness,


Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension,


Hath there been such a time--Id fain know that--


Take this from this, if this be otherwise:


Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed


You know, sometimes he walks four hours together


At such a time Ill loose my daughter to him:


And be not from his reason falln thereon,


But, look, where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.


Exeunt KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, and Attendants


Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be


For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a


god kissing carrion,--Have you a daughter?


Let her not walk i the sun: conception is a


blessing: but not as your daughter may conceive.


[Aside]  How say you by that? Still harping on my


daughter: yet he knew me not at first; he said I


was a fishmonger: he is far gone, far gone: and


truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for


love; very near this. Ill speak to him again.


I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.


Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here


that old men have grey beards, that their faces are


wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber and


plum-tree gum and that they have a plentiful lack of


wit, together with most weak hams: all which, sir,


though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet


I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down, for


yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if like a crab


[Aside]  Though this be madness, yet there is method


in t. Will you walk out of the air, my lord?


How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a happiness


that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity


could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will


leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of


meeting between him and my daughter.--My honourable


lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.


You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will


more willingly part withal: except my life, except


You go to seek the Lord Hamlet; there he is.


My excellent good friends! How dost thou,


Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both?


As the indifferent children of the earth.


On fortunes cap we are not the very button.


Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of


In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she


None, my lord, but that the worlds grown honest.


Then is doomsday near: but your news is not true.


Let me question more in particular: what have you,


my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune,


A goodly one; in which there are many confines,


wards and dungeons, Denmark being one o the worst.


Why, then, tis none to you; for there is nothing


either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me


Why then, your ambition makes it one; tis too


O God, I could be bounded in a nut shell and count


myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I


Which dreams indeed are ambition, for the very


substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.


Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a


quality that it is but a shadows shadow.


Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and


outstretched heroes the beggars shadows. Shall we


to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason.


No such matter: I will not sort you with the rest


of my servants, for, to speak to you like an honest


man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, in the


beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore?


To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.


Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I


thank you: and sure, dear friends, my thanks are


too dear a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it


your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come,


deal justly with me: come, come; nay, speak.


Why, any thing, but to the purpose. You were sent


for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks


which your modesties have not craft enough to colour:


I know the good king and queen have sent for you.


That you must teach me. But let me conjure you, by


the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of


our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved


love, and by what more dear a better proposer could


charge you withal, be even and direct with me,


[Aside]  Nay, then, I have an eye of you.--If you


I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation


prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king


and queen moult no feather. I have of late--but


wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all


custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily


with my disposition that this goodly frame, the


earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most


excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave


oerhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted


with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to


me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.


What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!


how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how


express and admirable! in action how like an angel!


in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the


world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me,


what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not


me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling


My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.


Why did you laugh then, when I said man delights not me?


To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what


lenten entertainment the players shall receive from


you: we coted them on the way; and hither are they


He that plays the king shall be welcome; his majesty


shall have tribute of me; the adventurous knight


shall use his foil and target; the lover shall not


sigh gratis; the humourous man shall end his part


in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose


lungs are tickled o the sere; and the lady shall


say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt


Even those you were wont to take delight in, the


How chances it they travel? their residence, both


in reputation and profit, was better both ways.


I think their inhibition comes by the means of the


Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was


Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace: but


there is, sir, an aery of children, little eyases,


that cry out on the top of question, and are most


tyrannically clapped fort: these are now the


fashion, and so berattle the common stages--so they


call them--that many wearing rapiers are afraid of


goose-quills and dare scarce come thither.


What, are they children? who maintains em? how are


they escoted? Will they pursue the quality no


longer than they can sing? will they not say


afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common


players--as it is most like, if their means are no


better--their writers do them wrong, to make them


Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and


the nation holds it no sin to tarre them to


controversy: there was, for a while, no money bid


for argument, unless the poet and the player went to


O, there has been much throwing about of brains.


Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load too.


It is not very strange; for mine uncle is king of


Denmark, and those that would make mows at him while


my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an


hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little.


Sblood, there is something in this more than


natural, if philosophy could find it out.


Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands,


come then: the appurtenance of welcome is fashion


and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb,


lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you,


must show fairly outward, should more appear like


entertainment than yours. You are welcome: but my


uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived.


I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is


Hark you, Guildenstern; and you too: at each ear a


hearer: that great baby you see there is not yet


Happily hes the second time come to them; for they


I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players;


mark it. You say right, sir: o Monday morning;


The best actors in the world, either for tragedy,


comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical,


comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or


poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor


Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the


O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou!


If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter


the first row of the pious chanson will show you


more; for look, where my abridgement comes.


You are welcome, masters; welcome, all. I am glad


to see thee well. Welcome, good friends. O, my old


friend! thy face is valenced since I saw thee last:


comest thou to beard me in Denmark? What, my young


lady and mistress! Byr lady, your ladyship is


nearer to heaven than when I saw you last, by the


altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like


apiece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the


ring. Masters, you are all welcome. Well een


tot like French falconers, fly at any thing we see:


well have a speech straight: come, give us a taste


of your quality; come, a passionate speech.


I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was


never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the


play, I remember, pleased not the million; twas


caviare to the general: but it was--as I received


it, and others, whose judgments in such matters


cried in the top of mine--an excellent play, well


digested in the scenes, set down with as much


modesty as cunning. I remember, one said there


were no sallets in the lines to make the matter


savoury, nor no matter in the phrase that might


indict the author of affectation; but called it an


honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very


much more handsome than fine. One speech in it I


chiefly loved: twas Aeneas tale to Dido; and


thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of


Priams slaughter: if it live in your memory, begin


The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast,--


it is not so:--it begins with Pyrrhus:--


The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms,


Black as his purpose, did the night resemble


When he lay couched in the ominous horse,


Hath now this dread and black complexion smeard


With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,


Baked and impasted with the parching streets,


To their lords murder: roasted in wrath and fire,


With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus


Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and


Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword,


Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,


Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide;


But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword


The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,


Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top


Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash


Takes prisoner Pyrrhus ear: for, lo! his sword,


Of reverend Priam, seemd i the air to stick:


And like a neutral to his will and matter,


But, as we often see, against some storm,


A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,


The bold winds speechless and the orb below


As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder


Doth rend the region, so, after Pyrrhus pause,


With less remorse than Pyrrhus bleeding sword


Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods,


Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,


And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,


It shall to the barbers, with your beard. Prithee,


say on: hes for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he


But who, O, who had seen the mobled queen--


Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames


With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head


Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe,


About her lank and all oer-teemed loins,


A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up;


Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steepd,


Gainst Fortunes state would treason have


But if the gods themselves did see her then


When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport


In mincing with his sword her husbands limbs,


The instant burst of clamour that she made,


Unless things mortal move them not at all,


Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,


Look, whether he has not turned his colour and has


Tis well: Ill have thee speak out the rest soon.


Good my lord, will you see the players well


bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for


they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the


time: after your death you were better have a bad


epitaph than their ill report while you live.


My lord, I will use them according to their desert.


Gods bodykins, man, much better: use every man


after his desert, and who should scape whipping?


Use them after your own honour and dignity: the less


they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty.


Follow him, friends: well hear a play to-morrow.


Exit POLONIUS with all the Players but the First


Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you play the


Well hat to-morrow night. You could, for a need,


study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which


I would set down and insert int, could you not?


Very well. Follow that lord; and look you mock him


My good friends, Ill leave you till night: you are


Is it not monstrous that this player here,


But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,


Could force his soul so to his own conceit


That from her working all his visage wannd,


Tears in his eyes, distraction ins aspect,


A broken voice, and his whole function suiting


With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing!


That he should weep for her? What would he do,


Had he the motive and the cue for passion


That I have? He would drown the stage with tears


And cleave the general ear with horrid speech,


The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I,


Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,


And can say nothing; no, not for a king,


Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?


Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?


Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i the throat,


As deep as to the lungs? who does me this?


Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be


I should have fatted all the region kites


With this slaves offal: bloody, bawdy villain!


Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!


Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,


That I, the son of a dear father murderd,


Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,


Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,


Fie upont! foh! About, my brain! I have heard


Been struck so to the soul that presently


For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak


With most miraculous organ. Ill have these players


Play something like the murder of my father


Before mine uncle: Ill observe his looks;


Ill tent him to the quick: if he but blench,


I know my course. The spirit that I have seen


May be the devil: and the devil hath power


To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps


More relative than this: the play s the thing


Wherein Ill catch the conscience of the king.


Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN


And can you, by no drift of circumstance,


Get from him why he puts on this confusion,


Grating so harshly all his days of quiet


He does confess he feels himself distracted;


But from what cause he will by no means speak.


Nor do we find him forward to be sounded,


But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof,


When we would bring him on to some confession


But with much forcing of his disposition.


Niggard of question; but, of our demands,


Madam, it so fell out, that certain players


We oer-raught on the way: of these we told him;


To hear of it: they are about the court,


And, as I think, they have already order


And he beseechd me to entreat your majesties


With all my heart; and it doth much content me


Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,


And drive his purpose on to these delights.


For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither,


Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing, unseen,


We may of their encounter frankly judge,


If t be the affliction of his love or no


That your good beauties be the happy cause


Of Hamlets wildness: so shall I hope your virtues


Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious, so please you,


That show of such an exercise may colour


Your loneliness. We are oft to blame in this,--


Tis too much proved--that with devotions visage


How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience!


The harlots cheek, beautied with plastering art,


Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it


Than is my deed to my most painted word:


I hear him coming: lets withdraw, my lord.


To be, or not to be: that is the question:


Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer


The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,


Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,


And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;


The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks


That flesh is heir to, tis a consummation


To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, theres the rub;


For in that sleep of death what dreams may come


When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,


For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,


The oppressors wrong, the proud mans contumely,


The pangs of despised love, the laws delay,


That patient merit of the unworthy takes,


With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,


But that the dread of something after death,


The undiscoverd country from whose bourn


And makes us rather bear those ills we have


Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;


Is sicklied oer with the pale cast of thought,


And enterprises of great pith and moment


With this regard their currents turn awry,


And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!


How does your honour for this many a day?


My honourd lord, you know right well you did;


And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed


As made the things more rich: their perfume lost,


Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.


That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should


Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than


Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner


transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the


force of honesty can translate beauty into his


likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the


time gives it proof. I did love you once.


Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.


You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot


so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of


Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a


breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest;


but yet I could accuse me of such things that it


were better my mother had not borne me: I am very


proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at


my beck than I have thoughts to put them in,


imagination to give them shape, or time to act them


in. What should such fellows as I do crawling


between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves,


all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery.


Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the


fool no where but ins own house. Farewell.


If thou dost marry, Ill give thee this plague for


thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as


snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a


nunnery, go: farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs


marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough


what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go,


I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God


has given you one face, and you make yourselves


another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and


nick-name Gods creatures, and make your wantonness


your ignorance. Go to, Ill no more ont; it hath


made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages:


those that are married already, all but one, shall


live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a


The courtiers, soldiers, scholars, eye, tongue, sword;


The expectancy and rose of the fair state,


The glass of fashion and the mould of form,


The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!


And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,


Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,


Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;


That unmatchd form and feature of blown youth


To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!


Love! his affections do not that way tend;


Nor what he spake, though it lackd form a little,


Was not like madness. Theres something in his soul,


And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose


Will be some danger: which for to prevent,


Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England,


This something-settled matter in his heart,


Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus


From fashion of himself. What think you ont?


The origin and commencement of his grief


Sprung from neglected love. How now, Ophelia!


You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said;


We heard it all. My lord, do as you please;


Let his queen mother all alone entreat him


To show his grief: let her be round with him;


And Ill be placed, so please you, in the ear


Of all their conference. If she find him not,


To England send him, or confine him where


Madness in great ones must not unwatchd go.


Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to


you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it,


as many of your players do, I had as lief the


town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air


too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently;


for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say,


the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget


a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it


offends me to the soul to hear a robustious


periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to


very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who


for the most part are capable of nothing but


inexplicable dumbshows and noise: I would have such


a fellow whipped for oerdoing Termagant; it


Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion


be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the


word to the action; with this special oerstep not


the modesty of nature: for any thing so overdone is


from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the


first and now, was and is, to hold, as twere, the


mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature,


scorn her own image, and the very age and body of


the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone,


or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful


laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the


censure of the which one must in your allowance


oerweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be


players that I have seen play, and heard others


praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely,


that, neither having the accent of Christians nor


the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so


strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of


natures journeymen had made men and not made them


well, they imitated humanity so abominably.


I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us,


O, reform it altogether. And let those that play


your clowns speak no more than is set down for them;


for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to


set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh


too; though, in the mean time, some necessary


question of the play be then to be considered:


thats villanous, and shows a most pitiful ambition


in the fool that uses it. Go, make you ready.


Enter POLONIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN


How now, my lord! I will the king hear this piece of work?


For what advancement may I hope from thee


That no revenue hast but thy good spirits,


To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatterd?


No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,


And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee


Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?


Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice


And could of men distinguish, her election


Hath seald thee for herself; for thou hast been


As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing,


Hast taen with equal thanks: and blest are those


Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled,


That they are not a pipe for fortunes finger


To sound what stop she please. Give me that man


That is not passions slave, and I will wear him


In my hearts core, ay, in my heart of heart,


As I do thee.--Something too much of this.--


There is a play to-night before the king;


One scene of it comes near the circumstance


Which I have told thee of my fathers death:


I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot,


Observe mine uncle: if his occulted guilt


As Vulcans stithy. Give him heedful note;


And after we will both our judgments join


If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing,


And scape detecting, I will pay the theft.


They are coming to the play; I must be idle:


Danish march. A flourish. Enter KING CLAUDIUS,  QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and others


Excellent, i faith; of the chameleons dish: I eat


the air, promise-crammed: you cannot feed capons so.


I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet; these words


My lord, you played once i the university, you say?


That did I, my lord; and was accounted a good actor.


I did enact Julius Caesar: I was killed i the


It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf


Ay, my lord; they stay upon your patience.


No, good mother, heres metal more attractive.


[To KING CLAUDIUS]  O, ho! do you mark that?


Thats a fair thought to lie between maids legs.


O God, your only jig-maker. What should a man do


but be merry? for, look you, how cheerfully my


mother looks, and my father died within these two hours.


So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for


Ill have a suit of sables. O heavens! die two


months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then theres


hope a great mans memory may outlive his life half


a year: but, byr lady, he must build churches,


then; or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with


the hobby-horse, whose epitaph is For, O, for, O,


Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen  embracing him, and he her. She kneels, and makes  show of protestation unto him. He takes her up,  and declines his head upon her neck: lays him down  upon a bank of flowers: she, seeing him asleep,  leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his  crown, kisses it, and pours poison in the Kings  ears, and exit. The Queen returns; finds the King  dead, and makes passionate action. The Poisoner,  with some two or three Mutes, comes in again,  seeming to lament with her. The dead body is  carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with  gifts: she seems loath and unwilling awhile, but in the end accepts his love


Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief.


Belike this show imports the argument of the play.


We shall know by this fellow: the players cannot


Ay, or any show that youll show him: be not you


ashamed to show, hell not shame to tell you what it means.


You are naught, you are naught: Ill mark the play.


Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?


Full thirty times hath Phoebus cart gone round


Neptunes salt wash and Tellus orbed ground,


And thirty dozen moons with borrowd sheen


About the world have times twelve thirties been,


Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands


Make us again count oer ere love be done!


But, woe is me, you are so sick of late,


So far from cheer and from your former state,


That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,


Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must:


For womens fear and love holds quantity;


Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know;


Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;


Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.


Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too;


My operant powers their functions leave to do:


And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,


Such love must needs be treason in my breast:


None wed the second but who killd the first.


Are base respects of thrift, but none of love:


I do believe you think what now you speak;


Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree;


But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be.


To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt:


What to ourselves in passion we propose,


The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.


Their own enactures with themselves destroy:


Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;


Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.


This world is not for aye, nor tis not strange


That even our loves should with our fortunes change;


For tis a question left us yet to prove,


Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.


The great man down, you mark his favourite flies;


The poor advanced makes friends of enemies.


For who not needs shall never lack a friend,


And who in want a hollow friend doth try,


Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own:


So think thou wilt no second husband wed;


But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.


Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light!


Sport and repose lock from me day and night!


Each opposite that blanks the face of joy


Meet what I would have well and it destroy!


Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife,


Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile;


My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile


And never come mischance between us twain!


Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in t?


No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence


The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play


is the image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is


the dukes name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see


anon; tis a knavish piece of work: but what o


that? your majesty and we that have free souls, it


touches us not: let the galled jade wince, our


This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king.


I could interpret between you and your love, if I


It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.


So you must take your husbands. Begin, murderer;


pox, leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come:


the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.


Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;


Confederate season, else no creature seeing;


Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,


With Hecates ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,


He poisons him i the garden fors estate. His


names Gonzago: the story is extant, and writ in


choice Italian: you shall see anon how the murderer


For some must watch, while some must sleep:


Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers-- if


the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me--with two


Provincial roses on my razed shoes, get me a


O good Horatio, Ill take the ghosts word for a


Ah, ha! Come, some music! come, the recorders!


Why then, belike, he likes it not, perdy.


Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.


Is in his retirement marvellous distempered.


Your wisdom should show itself more richer to


signify this to his doctor; for, for me to put him


to his purgation would perhaps plunge him into far


Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame and


The queen, your mother, in most great affliction of


Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right


breed. If it shall please you to make me a


wholesome answer, I will do your mothers


commandment: if not, your pardon and my return


Make you a wholesome answer; my wits diseased: but,


sir, such answer as I can make, you shall command;


or, rather, as you say, my mother: therefore no


more, but to the matter: my mother, you say,--


Then thus she says; your behavior hath struck her


O wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother! But


is there no sequel at the heels of this mothers


She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you


We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have


So I do still, by these pickers and stealers.


Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? you


do, surely, bar the door upon your own liberty, if


How can that be, when you have the voice of the king


Ay, but sir, While the grass grows,--the proverb


O, the recorders! let me see one. To withdraw with


you:--why do you go about to recover the wind of me,


O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too


I do not well understand that. Will you play upon


Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with


your lingers and thumb, give it breath with your


mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music.


But these cannot I command to any utterance of


Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of


me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know


my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my


mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to


the top of my compass: and there is much music,


excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot


you make it speak. Sblood, do you think I am


easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what


instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you


My lord, the queen would speak with you, and


Do you see yonder cloud thats almost in shape of a camel?


By the mass, and tis like a camel, indeed.


Then I will come to my mother by and by. They fool


me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by.


Tis now the very witching time of night,


When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out


Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood,


Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother.


O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever


I will speak daggers to her, but use none;


My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites;


To give them seals never, my soul, consent!


Enter KING CLAUDIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN


I like him not, nor stands it safe with us


To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you;


I your commission will forthwith dispatch,


With all the strength and armour of the mind,


To keep itself from noyance; but much more


That spirit upon whose weal depend and rest


Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw


Whats near it with it: it is a massy wheel,


Fixd on the summit of the highest mount,


To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things


Are mortised and adjoind; which, when it falls,


Each small annexment, petty consequence,


Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone


Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.


Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage;


My lord, hes going to his mothers closet:


To hear the process; and warrant shell tax him home:


And, as you said, and wisely was it said,


Tis meet that some more audience than a mother,


Since nature makes them partial, should oerhear


The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege:


O, my offence is rank it smells to heaven;


My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;


And, like a man to double business bound,


I stand in pause where I shall first begin,


And both neglect. What if this cursed hand


Were thicker than itself with brothers blood,


Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens


To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy


And whats in prayer but this two-fold force,


Or pardond being down? Then Ill look up;


My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer


Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder?


That cannot be; since I am still possessd


Of those effects for which I did the murder,


My crown, mine own ambition and my queen.


May one be pardond and retain the offence?


Offences gilded hand may shove by justice,


And oft tis seen the wicked prize itself


There is no shuffling, there the action lies


In his true nature; and we ourselves compelld,


Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,


To give in evidence. What then? what rests?


Try what repentance can: what can it not?


Yet what can it when one can not repent?


O wretched state! O bosom black as death!


O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,


Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay!


Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of steel,


Now might I do it pat, now he is praying;


And now Ill dot. And so he goes to heaven;


And so am I revenged. That would be scannd:


A villain kills my father; and for that,


I, his sole son, do this same villain send


O, this is hire and salary, not revenge.


He took my father grossly, full of bread;


With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;


And how his audit stands who knows save heaven?


But in our circumstance and course of thought,


Tis heavy with him: and am I then revenged,


When he is fit and seasond for his passage?


Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent:


When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage,


Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed;


Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,


And that his soul may be as damnd and black


As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays:


This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.


[Rising]  My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:


Words without thoughts never to heaven go.


He will come straight. Look you lay home to him:


Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with,


And that your grace hath screend and stood between


Much heat and him. Ill sconce me even here.


Fear me not: withdraw, I hear him coming.


Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.


Mother, you have my father much offended.


Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.


Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.


You are the queen, your husbands brothers wife;


And--would it were not so!--you are my mother.


Nay, then, Ill set those to you that can speak.


Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge;


Where you may see the inmost part of you.


What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me?


[Drawing]  How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead!


A bloody deed! almost as bad, good mother,


As kill a king, and marry with his brother.


Lifts up the array and discovers POLONIUS


Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!


I took thee for thy better: take thy fortune;


Thou findst to be too busy is some danger.


Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down,


And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,


That it is proof and bulwark against sense.


What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue


That blurs the grace and blush of modesty,


Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose


From the fair forehead of an innocent love


And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows


As false as dicers oaths: O, such a deed


A rhapsody of words: heavens face doth glow:


With tristful visage, as against the doom,


That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?


Look here, upon this picture, and on this,


The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.


See, what a grace was seated on this brow;


Hyperions curls; the front of Jove himself;


An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;


Where every god did seem to set his seal,


This was your husband. Look you now, what follows:


Here is your husband; like a mildewd ear,


Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?


Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,


And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?


You cannot call it love; for at your age


The hey-day in the blood is tame, its humble,


And waits upon the judgment: and what judgment


Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have,


Else could you not have motion; but sure, that sense


Nor sense to ecstasy was neer so thralld


But it reserved some quantity of choice,


To serve in such a difference. What devil wast


That thus hath cozend you at hoodman-blind?


Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,


Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,


O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,


If thou canst mutine in a matrons bones,


And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame


When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,


Since frost itself as actively doth burn


Thou turnst mine eyes into my very soul;


And there I see such black and grained spots


Stewd in corruption, honeying and making love


These words, like daggers, enter in mine ears;


A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe


Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings;


That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,


Save me, and hover oer me with your wings,


You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?


Do you not come your tardy son to chide,


That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by


The important acting of your dread command? O, say!


Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.


But, look, amazement on thy mother sits:


O, step between her and her fighting soul:


Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works:


And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?


Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;


And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,


Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,


Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son,


Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper


Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?


On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares!


His form and cause conjoind, preaching to stones,


Would make them capable. Do not look upon me;


Lest with this piteous action you convert


My stern effects: then what I have to do


Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood.


Why, look you there! look, how it steals away!


Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal!


My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,


And makes as healthful music: it is not madness


That I have utterd: bring me to the test,


And I the matter will re-word; which madness


Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,


Lay not that mattering unction to your soul,


That not your trespass, but my madness speaks:


It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,


Whilst rank corruption, mining all within,


Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;


Repent whats past; avoid what is to come;


And do not spread the compost on the weeds,


To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue;


Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good.


O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.


Good night: but go not to mine uncles bed;


That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat,


That to the use of actions fair and good


To the next abstinence: the next more easy;


For use almost can change the stamp of nature,


And either [         ] the devil, or throw him out


With wondrous potency. Once more, good night:


Ill blessing beg of you. For this same lord,


I do repent: but heaven hath pleased it so,


To punish me with this and this with me,


That I must be their scourge and minister.


The death I gave him. So, again, good night.


Thus bad begins and worse remains behind.


Not this, by no means, that I bid you do:


Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed;


Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse;


And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses,


Or paddling in your neck with his damnd fingers,


But mad in craft. Twere good you let him know;


For who, thats but a queen, fair, sober, wise,


Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,


Such dear concernings hide? who would do so?


Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape,


To try conclusions, in the basket creep,


Be thou assured, if words be made of breath,


And breath of life, I have no life to breathe


Theres letters seald: and my two schoolfellows,


Whom I will trust as I will adders fangd,


They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way,


Hoist with his own petard: and t shall go hard


But I will delve one yard below their mines,


And blow them at the moon: O, tis most sweet,


When in one line two crafts directly meet.


Ill lug the guts into the neighbour room.


Mother, good night. Indeed this counsellor


Is now most still, most secret and most grave,


Who was in life a foolish prating knave.


Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you.


Exeunt severally; HAMLET dragging in POLONIUS


Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN


Theres matter in these sighs, these profound heaves:


You must translate: tis fit we understand them.


Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to-night!


Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend


Which is the mightier: in his lawless fit,


Behind the arras hearing something stir,


Whips out his rapier, cries, A rat, a rat!


And, in this brainish apprehension, kills


It had been so with us, had we been there:


Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answerd?


Should have kept short, restraind and out of haunt,


This mad young man: but so much was our love,


We would not understand what was most fit;


Even on the pith of Life. Where is he gone?


Oer whom his very madness, like some ore


Shows itself pure; he weeps for what is done.


The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch,


But we will ship him hence: and this vile deed


We must, with all our majesty and skill,


Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guildenstern!


Friends both, go join you with some further aid:


And from his mothers closet hath he draggd him:


Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body


Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this.


Come, Gertrude, well call up our wisest friends;


And let them know, both what we mean to do,


What have you done, my lord, with the dead body?


Compounded it with dust, whereto tis kin.


Tell us where tis, that we may take it thence


That I can keep your counsel and not mine own.


Besides, to be demanded of a sponge! what


replication should be made by the son of a king?


Ay, sir, that soaks up the kings countenance, his


rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the


king best service in the end: he keeps them, like


an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouthed, to


be last swallowed: when he needs what you have


gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you