It is hard to imagine a world without Shakespeare. Since their composition four hundred years ago, Shakespeare’s plays and poems have traveled the globe, inviting those who see and read his works to make them their own.
Readers of the New Folger Editions are part of this ongoing process of “taking up Shakespeare,” finding our own thoughts and feelings in language that strikes us as old or unusual and, for that very reason, new. We still struggle to keep up with a writer who could think a mile a minute, whose words paint pictures that shift like clouds. These expertly edited texts are presented to the public as a resource for study, artistic adaptation, and enjoyment. By making the classic texts of the New Folger Editions available in electronic form as Folger Digital Texts, we place a trusted resource in the hands of anyone who wants them.
The New Folger Editions of Shakespeare’s plays, which are the basis for the texts realized here in digital form, are special because of their origin. The Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, DC, is the single greatest documentary source of Shakespeare’s works. An unparalleled collection of early modern books, manuscripts, and artwork connected to Shakespeare, the Folger’s holdings have been consulted extensively in the preparation of these texts. The Editions also reflect the expertise gained through the regular performance of Shakespeare’s works in the Folger’s Elizabethan Theater.
I want to express my deep thanks to editors Barbara Mowat and Paul Werstine for creating these indispensable editions of Shakespeare’s works, which incorporate the best of textual scholarship with a richness of commentary that is both inspired and engaging. Readers who want to know more about Shakespeare and his plays can follow the paths these distinguished scholars have tread by visiting the Folger either in-person or online, where a range of physical and digital resources exists to supplement the material in these texts. I commend to you these words, and hope that they inspire.
Michael Witmore
Director, Folger Shakespeare Library
Until now, with the release of the Folger Digital Texts, readers in search of a free online text of Shakespeare’s plays had to be content primarily with using the Moby™ Text, which reproduces a late-nineteenth century version of the plays. What is the difference? Many ordinary readers assume that there is a single text for the plays: what Shakespeare wrote. But Shakespeare’s plays were not published the way modern novels or plays are published today: as a single, authoritative text. In some cases, the plays have come down to us in multiple published versions, represented by various Quartos (Qq) and by the great collection put together by his colleagues in 1623, called the First Folio (F). There are, for example, three very different versions of
Hamlet
, two of
King Lear
,
Henry V
,
Romeo and Juliet
, and others. Editors choose which version to use as their base text, and then amend that text with words, lines or speech prefixes from the other versions that, in their judgment, make for a better or more accurate text.
Other editorial decisions involve choices about whether an unfamiliar word could be understood in light of other writings of the period or whether it should be changed; decisions about words that made it into Shakespeare’s text by accident through four hundred years of printings and misprinting; and even decisions based on cultural preference and taste. When the Moby™ Text was created, for example, it was deemed “improper” and “indecent” for Miranda to chastise Caliban for having attempted to rape her. (See
The Tempest
, 1.2: “Abhorred slave,/Which any print of goodness wilt not take,/Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee…”). All Shakespeare editors at the time took the speech away from her and gave it to her father, Prospero.
The editors of the Moby™ Shakespeare produced their text long before scholars fully understood the proper grounds on which to make the thousands of decisions that Shakespeare editors face. The Folger Library Shakespeare Editions, on which the Folger Digital Texts depend, make this editorial process as nearly transparent as is possible, in contrast to older texts, like the Moby™, which hide editorial interventions. The reader of the Folger Shakespeare knows where the text has been altered because editorial interventions are signaled by square brackets (for example, from
Othello
: “
square bracket
If she in chains of magic were not bound,
square bracket
”), half-square brackets (for example, from
Henry V
: “With
half-square bracket
blood
half-square bracket
and sword and fire to win your right,”), or angle brackets (for example, from
Hamlet
: “O farewell, honest
angle bracket
soldier.
angle bracket
Who hath relieved/you?”). At any point in the text, you can hover your cursor over a bracket for more information.
Because the Folger Digital Texts are edited in accord with twenty-first century knowledge about Shakespeare’s texts, the Folger here provides them to readers, scholars, teachers, actors, directors, and students, free of charge, confident of their quality as texts of the plays and pleased to be able to make this contribution to the study and enjoyment of Shakespeare.
Events before the start of
Hamlet
set the stage for tragedy. When the king of Denmark, Prince Hamlet’s father, suddenly dies, Hamlet’s mother, Gertrude, marries his uncle Claudius, who becomes the new king.
A spirit who claims to be the ghost of Hamlet’s father describes his murder at the hands of Claudius and demands that Hamlet avenge the killing. When the councilor Polonius learns from his daughter, Ophelia, that Hamlet has visited her in an apparently distracted state, Polonius attributes the prince’s condition to lovesickness, and he sets a trap for Hamlet using Ophelia as bait.
To confirm Claudius’s guilt, Hamlet arranges for a play that mimics the murder; Claudius’s reaction is that of a guilty man. Hamlet, now free to act, mistakenly kills Polonius, thinking he is Claudius. Claudius sends Hamlet away as part of a deadly plot.
After Polonius’s death, Ophelia goes mad and later drowns. Hamlet, who has returned safely to confront the king, agrees to a fencing match with Ophelia’s brother, Laertes, who secretly poisons his own rapier. At the match, Claudius prepares poisoned wine for Hamlet, which Gertrude unknowingly drinks; as she dies, she accuses Claudius, whom Hamlet kills. Then first Laertes and then Hamlet die, both victims of Laertes’ rapier.
ACT
1
Scene
1
Enter
Barnardo
and
Francisco
,
two
sentinels
.
Who’s
there
?
Nay
,
answer
me
.
Stand
and
unfold
yourself
.
Long
live
the
King
!
Barnardo
?
.
He
.
You
come
most
carefully
upon
your
hour
.
’Tis
now
struck
twelve
.
Get
thee
to
bed
,
Francisco
.
For
this
relief
much
thanks
.
’Tis
bitter
cold
,
And
I
am
sick
at
heart
.
Have
you
had
quiet
guard
?
Not
a
mouse
stirring
.
Well
,
good
night
.
If
you
do
meet
Horatio
and
Marcellus
,
The
rivals
of
my
watch
,
bid
them
make
haste
.
Enter
Horatio
and
Marcellus
.
I
think
I
hear
them
.
—
Stand
ho
!
Who
is
there
?
Friends
to
this
ground
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
And
liegemen
to
the
Dane
.
Give
you
good
night
.
O
farewell
,
honest
soldier
.
Who
hath
relieved
you
?
Barnardo
hath
my
place
.
Give
you
good
night
.
Francisco
exits
.
Holla
,
Barnardo
.
Say
,
what
,
is
Horatio
there
?
A
piece
of
him
.
Welcome
,
Horatio
.
—
Welcome
,
good
Marcellus
.
What
,
has
this
thing
appeared
again
tonight
?
I
have
seen
nothing
.
Horatio
says
’tis
but
our
fantasy
And
will
not
let
belief
take
hold
of
him
Touching
this
dreaded
sight
twice
seen
of
us
.
Therefore
I
have
entreated
him
along
With
us
to
watch
the
minutes
of
this
night
,
That
,
if
again
this
apparition
come
,
He
may
approve
our
eyes
and
speak
to
it
.
Tush
,
tush
,
’twill
not
appear
.
Sit
down
awhile
,
And
let
us
once
again
assail
your
ears
,
That
are
so
fortified
against
our
story
,
What
we
have
two
nights
seen
.
Well
,
sit
we
down
,
And
let
us
hear
Barnardo
speak
of
this
.
Last
night
of
all
,
When
yond
same
star
that’s
westward
from
the
pole
Had
made
his
course
t’
illume
that
part
of
heaven
Where
now
it
burns
,
Marcellus
and
myself
,
The
bell
then
beating
one
—
ACT 1. SC. 1
Enter
Ghost
.
Peace
,
break
thee
off
!
Look
where
it
comes
again
.
In
the
same
figure
like
the
King
that’s
dead
.
,
to
Horatio
Thou
art
a
scholar
.
Speak
to
it
,
Horatio
.
Looks
he
not
like
the
King
?
Mark
it
,
Horatio
.
Most
like
.
It
harrows
me
with
fear
and
wonder
.
It
would
be
spoke
to
.
Speak
to
it
,
Horatio
.
What
art
thou
that
usurp’st
this
time
of
night
,
Together
with
that
fair
and
warlike
form
In
which
the
majesty
of
buried
Denmark
Did
sometimes
march
?
By
heaven
,
I
charge
thee
,
speak
.
It
is
offended
.
See
,
it
stalks
away
.
Stay
!
speak
!
speak
!
I
charge
thee
,
speak
!
Ghost
exits
.
’Tis
gone
and
will
not
answer
.
How
now
,
Horatio
,
you
tremble
and
look
pale
.
Is
not
this
something
more
than
fantasy
?
What
think
you
on
’t
?
Before
my
God
,
I
might
not
this
believe
Without
the
sensible
and
true
avouch
Of
mine
own
eyes
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Is
it
not
like
the
King
?
As
thou
art
to
thyself
.
Such
was
the
very
armor
he
had
on
When
he
the
ambitious
Norway
combated
.
So
frowned
he
once
when
,
in
an
angry
parle
,
He
smote
the
sledded
Polacks
on
the
ice
.
’Tis
strange
.
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
mine
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
And
foreign
mart
for
implements
of
war
,
Why
such
impress
of
shipwrights
,
whose
sore
task
Does
not
divide
the
Sunday
from
the
week
.
What
might
be
toward
that
this
sweaty
haste
Doth
make
the
night
joint
laborer
with
the
day
?
Who
is
’t
that
can
inform
me
?
That
can
I
.
At
least
the
whisper
goes
so
:
our
last
king
,
Whose
image
even
but
now
appeared
to
us
,
Was
,
as
you
know
,
by
Fortinbras
of
Norway
,
Thereto
pricked
on
by
a
most
emulate
pride
,
Dared
to
the
combat
;
in
which
our
valiant
Hamlet
(
For
so
this
side
of
our
known
world
esteemed
him
)
Did
slay
this
Fortinbras
,
who
by
a
sealed
compact
,
Well
ratified
by
law
and
heraldry
,
Did
forfeit
,
with
his
life
,
all
those
his
lands
Which
he
stood
seized
of
,
to
the
conqueror
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Against
the
which
a
moiety
competent
Was
gagèd
by
our
king
,
which
had
returned
To
the
inheritance
of
Fortinbras
Had
he
been
vanquisher
,
as
,
by
the
same
comart
And
carriage
of
the
article
designed
,
His
fell
to
Hamlet
.
Now
,
sir
,
young
Fortinbras
,
Of
unimprovèd
mettle
hot
and
full
,
Hath
in
the
skirts
of
Norway
here
and
there
Sharked
up
a
list
of
lawless
resolutes
For
food
and
diet
to
some
enterprise
That
hath
a
stomach
in
’t
;
which
is
no
other
(
As
it
doth
well
appear
unto
our
state
)
But
to
recover
of
us
,
by
strong
hand
And
terms
compulsatory
,
those
foresaid
lands
So
by
his
father
lost
.
And
this
,
I
take
it
,
Is
the
main
motive
of
our
preparations
,
The
source
of
this
our
watch
,
and
the
chief
head
Of
this
posthaste
and
rummage
in
the
land
.
I
think
it
be
no
other
but
e’en
so
.
Well
may
it
sort
that
this
portentous
figure
Comes
armèd
through
our
watch
so
like
the
king
That
was
and
is
the
question
of
these
wars
.
A
mote
it
is
to
trouble
the
mind’s
eye
.
In
the
most
high
and
palmy
state
of
Rome
,
A
little
ere
the
mightiest
Julius
fell
,
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
Neptune’s
empire
stands
,
Was
sick
almost
to
doomsday
with
eclipse
.
And
even
the
like
precurse
of
feared
events
,
As
harbingers
preceding
still
the
fates
And
prologue
to
the
omen
coming
on
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
Have
heaven
and
Earth
earth
together
demonstrated
Unto
our
climatures
and
countrymen
.
Enter
Ghost
.
But
soft
,
behold
!
Lo
,
where
it
comes
again
!
I’ll
cross
it
though
it
blast
me
.
—
Stay
,
illusion
!
It
spreads
his
arms
.
If
thou
hast
any
sound
or
use
of
voice
,
Speak
to
me
.
If
there
be
any
good
thing
to
be
done
That
may
to
thee
do
ease
and
grace
to
me
,
Speak
to
me
.
If
thou
art
privy
to
thy
country’s
fate
,
Which
happily
foreknowing
may
avoid
,
O
,
speak
!
Or
if
thou
hast
uphoarded
in
thy
life
Extorted
treasure
in
the
womb
of
earth
,
For
which
,
they
say
,
you
spirits
oft
walk
in
death
,
Speak
of
it
.
The
cock
crows
.
Stay
and
speak
!
—
Stop
it
,
Marcellus
.
Shall
I
strike
it
with
my
partisan
?
Do
,
if
it
will
not
stand
.
’Tis
here
.
’Tis
here
.
Ghost
exits
.
’Tis
gone
.
We
do
it
wrong
,
being
so
majestical
,
To
offer
it
the
show
of
violence
,
For
it
is
as
the
air
,
invulnerable
,
And
our
vain
blows
malicious
mockery
.
It
was
about
to
speak
when
the
cock
crew
.
And
then
it
started
like
a
guilty
thing
Upon
a
fearful
summons
.
I
have
heard
ACT 1. SC. 1
The
cock
,
that
is
the
trumpet
to
the
morn
,
Doth
with
his
lofty
and
shrill-sounding
throat
Awake
the
god
of
day
,
and
at
his
warning
,
Whether
in
sea
or
fire
,
in
earth
or
air
,
Th’
extravagant
and
erring
spirit
hies
To
his
confine
,
and
of
the
truth
herein
This
present
object
made
probation
.
It
faded
on
the
crowing
of
the
cock
.
Some
say
that
ever
’gainst
that
season
comes
Wherein
our
Savior’s
birth
is
celebrated
,
This
bird
of
dawning
singeth
all
night
long
;
And
then
,
they
say
,
no
spirit
dare
stir
abroad
,
The
nights
are
wholesome
;
then
no
planets
strike
,
No
fairy
takes
,
nor
witch
hath
power
to
charm
,
So
hallowed
and
so
gracious
is
that
time
.
So
have
I
heard
and
do
in
part
believe
it
.
But
look
,
the
morn
in
russet
mantle
clad
Walks
o’er
the
dew
of
yon
high
eastward
hill
.
Break
we
our
watch
up
,
and
by
my
advice
Let
us
impart
what
we
have
seen
tonight
Unto
young
Hamlet
;
for
,
upon
my
life
,
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
?
Let’s
do
’t
,
I
pray
,
and
I
this
morning
know
Where
we
shall
find
him
most
convenient
.
They
exit
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Scene
2
Flourish
.
Enter
Claudius
,
King
of
Denmark
,
Gertrude
the
Queen
,
the
Council
,
as
Polonius
,
and
his
son
Laertes
,
Hamlet
,
with
others
,
among
them
Voltemand
and
Cornelius
.
Though
yet
of
Hamlet
our
dear
brother’s
death
The
memory
be
green
,
and
that
it
us
befitted
To
bear
our
hearts
in
grief
,
and
our
whole
kingdom
To
be
contracted
in
one
brow
of
woe
,
Yet
so
far
hath
discretion
fought
with
nature
That
we
with
wisest
sorrow
think
on
him
Together
with
remembrance
of
ourselves
.
Therefore
our
sometime
sister
,
now
our
queen
,
Th’
imperial
jointress
to
this
warlike
state
,
Have
we
(
as
’twere
with
a
defeated
joy
,
With
an
auspicious
and
a
dropping
eye
,
With
mirth
in
funeral
and
with
dirge
in
marriage
,
In
equal
scale
weighing
delight
and
dole
)
Taken
to
wife
.
Nor
have
we
herein
barred
Your
better
wisdoms
,
which
have
freely
gone
With
this
affair
along
.
For
all
,
our
thanks
.
Now
follows
that
you
know
.
Young
Fortinbras
,
Holding
a
weak
supposal
of
our
worth
Or
thinking
by
our
late
dear
brother’s
death
Our
state
to
be
disjoint
and
out
of
frame
,
Colleaguèd
with
this
dream
of
his
advantage
,
He
hath
not
failed
to
pester
us
with
message
Importing
the
surrender
of
those
lands
Lost
by
his
father
,
with
all
bonds
of
law
,
To
our
most
valiant
brother
—
so
much
for
him
.
Now
for
ourself
and
for
this
time
of
meeting
.
Thus
much
the
business
is
:
we
have
here
writ
To
Norway
,
uncle
of
young
Fortinbras
,
Who
,
impotent
and
bedrid
,
scarcely
hears
ACT 1. SC. 2
Of
this
his
nephew’s
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
,
Voltemand
,
For
bearers
of
this
greeting
to
old
Norway
,
Giving
to
you
no
further
personal
power
To
business
with
the
King
more
than
the
scope
Of
these
dilated
articles
allow
.
Giving
them
a
paper
.
Farewell
,
and
let
your
haste
commend
your
duty
.
In
that
and
all
things
will
we
show
our
duty
.
We
doubt
it
nothing
.
Heartily
farewell
.
Voltemand
and
Cornelius
exit
.
And
now
,
Laertes
,
what’s
the
news
with
you
?
You
told
us
of
some
suit
.
What
is
’t
,
Laertes
?
You
cannot
speak
of
reason
to
the
Dane
And
lose
your
voice
.
What
wouldst
thou
beg
,
Laertes
,
That
shall
not
be
my
offer
,
not
thy
asking
?
The
head
is
not
more
native
to
the
heart
,
The
hand
more
instrumental
to
the
mouth
,
Than
is
the
throne
of
Denmark
to
thy
father
.
What
wouldst
thou
have
,
Laertes
?
My
dread
lord
,
Your
leave
and
favor
to
return
to
France
,
From
whence
though
willingly
I
came
to
Denmark
To
show
my
duty
in
your
coronation
,
Yet
now
I
must
confess
,
that
duty
done
,
My
thoughts
and
wishes
bend
again
toward
France
And
bow
them
to
your
gracious
leave
and
pardon
.
Have
you
your
father’s
leave
?
What
says
Polonius
?
ACT 1. SC. 2
Hath
,
my
lord
,
wrung
from
me
my
slow
leave
By
laborsome
petition
,
and
at
last
Upon
his
will
I
sealed
my
hard
consent
.
I
do
beseech
you
give
him
leave
to
go
.
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
in
the
sun
.
Good
Hamlet
,
cast
thy
nighted
color
off
,
And
let
thine
eye
look
like
a
friend
on
Denmark
.
Do
not
forever
with
thy
vailèd
lids
Seek
for
thy
noble
father
in
the
dust
.
Thou
know’st
’tis
common
;
all
that
lives
must
die
,
Passing
through
nature
to
eternity
.
Ay
,
madam
,
it
is
common
.
If
it
be
,
Why
seems
it
so
particular
with
thee
?
Seems
,
madam
?
Nay
,
it
is
.
I
know
not
seems
.
’Tis
not
alone
my
inky
cloak
,
good
mother
,
Nor
customary
suits
of
solemn
black
,
Nor
windy
suspiration
of
forced
breath
,
No
,
nor
the
fruitful
river
in
the
eye
,
Nor
the
dejected
havior
of
the
visage
,
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
;
ACT 1. SC. 2
But
I
have
that
within
which
passes
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
In
filial
obligation
for
some
term
To
do
obsequious
sorrow
.
But
to
persever
In
obstinate
condolement
is
a
course
Of
impious
stubbornness
.
’Tis
unmanly
grief
.
It
shows
a
will
most
incorrect
to
heaven
,
A
heart
unfortified
,
a
mind
impatient
,
An
understanding
simple
and
unschooled
.
For
what
we
know
must
be
and
is
as
common
As
any
the
most
vulgar
thing
to
sense
,
Why
should
we
in
our
peevish
opposition
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
today
,
This
must
be
so
.
We
pray
you
,
throw
to
earth
This
unprevailing
woe
and
think
of
us
As
of
a
father
;
for
let
the
world
take
note
,
You
are
the
most
immediate
to
our
throne
,
And
with
no
less
nobility
of
love
Than
that
which
dearest
father
bears
his
son
Do
I
impart
toward
you
.
For
your
intent
In
going
back
to
school
in
Wittenberg
,
It
is
most
retrograde
to
our
desire
,
And
we
beseech
you
,
bend
you
to
remain
Here
in
the
cheer
and
comfort
of
our
eye
,
Our
chiefest
courtier
,
cousin
,
and
our
son
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Let
not
thy
mother
lose
her
prayers
,
Hamlet
.
I
pray
thee
,
stay
with
us
.
Go
not
to
Wittenberg
.
I
shall
in
all
my
best
obey
you
,
madam
.
Why
,
’tis
a
loving
and
a
fair
reply
.
Be
as
ourself
in
Denmark
.
—
Madam
,
come
.
This
gentle
and
unforced
accord
of
Hamlet
Sits
smiling
to
my
heart
,
in
grace
whereof
No
jocund
health
that
Denmark
drinks
today
But
the
great
cannon
to
the
clouds
shall
tell
,
And
the
King’s
rouse
the
heaven
shall
bruit
again
,
Respeaking
earthly
thunder
.
Come
away
.
Flourish
.
All
but
Hamlet
exit
.
O
,
that
this
too
,
too
sullied
flesh
would
melt
,
Thaw
,
and
resolve
itself
into
a
dew
,
Or
that
the
Everlasting
had
not
fixed
His
canon
’gainst
self-slaughter
!
O
God
,
God
,
How
weary
,
stale
,
flat
,
and
unprofitable
Seem
to
me
all
the
uses
of
this
world
!
Fie
on
’t
,
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
.
So
excellent
a
king
,
that
was
to
this
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
earth
,
Must
I
remember
?
Why
,
she
would
hang
on
him
As
if
increase
of
appetite
had
grown
By
what
it
fed
on
.
And
yet
,
within
a
month
(
Let
me
not
think
on
’t
;
frailty
,
thy
name
is
woman
!
)
,
A
little
month
,
or
ere
those
shoes
were
old
With
which
she
followed
my
poor
father’s
body
,
ACT 1. SC. 2
Like
Niobe
,
all
tears
—
why
she
,
even
she
(
O
God
,
a
beast
that
wants
discourse
of
reason
Would
have
mourned
longer
!
)
,
married
with
my
uncle
,
My
father’s
brother
,
but
no
more
like
my
father
Than
I
to
Hercules
.
Within
a
month
,
Ere
yet
the
salt
of
most
unrighteous
tears
Had
left
the
flushing
in
her
gallèd
eyes
,
She
married
.
O
,
most
wicked
speed
,
to
post
With
such
dexterity
to
incestuous
sheets
!
It
is
not
,
nor
it
cannot
come
to
good
.
But
break
,
my
heart
,
for
I
must
hold
my
tongue
.
Enter
Horatio
,
Marcellus
,
and
Barnardo
.
Hail
to
your
Lordship
lordship
.
I
am
glad
to
see
you
well
.
Horatio
—
or
I
do
forget
myself
!
The
same
,
my
lord
,
and
your
poor
servant
ever
.
Sir
,
my
good
friend
.
I’ll
change
that
name
with
you
.
And
what
make
you
from
Wittenberg
,
Horatio
?
—
Marcellus
?
My
good
lord
.
I
am
very
glad
to
see
you
.
To
Barnardo
.
Good
even
,
sir
.
—
But
what
,
in
faith
,
make
you
from
Wittenberg
?
A
truant
disposition
,
good
my
lord
.
I
would
not
hear
your
enemy
say
so
,
Nor
shall
you
do
my
ear
that
violence
To
make
it
truster
of
your
own
report
Against
yourself
.
I
know
you
are
no
truant
.
But
what
is
your
affair
in
Elsinore
?
We’ll
teach
you
to
drink
deep
ere
you
depart
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
My
lord
,
I
came
to
see
your
father’s
funeral
.
I
prithee
,
do
not
mock
me
,
fellow
student
.
I
think
it
was
to
see
my
mother’s
wedding
.
Indeed
,
my
lord
,
it
followed
hard
upon
.
Thrift
,
thrift
,
Horatio
.
The
funeral
baked
meats
Did
coldly
furnish
forth
the
marriage
tables
.
Would
I
had
met
my
dearest
foe
in
heaven
Or
ever
I
had
seen
that
day
,
Horatio
!
My
father
—
methinks
I
see
my
father
.
Where
,
my
lord
?
In
my
mind’s
eye
,
Horatio
.
I
saw
him
once
.
He
was
a
goodly
king
.
He
was
a
man
.
Take
him
for
all
in
all
,
I
shall
not
look
upon
his
like
again
.
My
lord
,
I
think
I
saw
him
yesternight
.
Saw
who
?
My
lord
,
the
King
your
father
.
The
King
my
father
?
Season
your
admiration
for
a
while
With
an
attent
ear
,
till
I
may
deliver
Upon
the
witness
of
these
gentlemen
This
marvel
to
you
.
For
God’s
love
,
let
me
hear
!
Two
nights
together
had
these
gentlemen
,
Marcellus
and
Barnardo
,
on
their
watch
,
ACT 1. SC. 2
In
the
dead
waste
and
middle
of
the
night
,
Been
thus
encountered
:
a
figure
like
your
father
,
Armed
Armèd
at
point
exactly
,
cap-à-pie
,
Appears
before
them
and
with
solemn
march
Goes
slow
and
stately
by
them
.
Thrice
he
walked
By
their
oppressed
and
fear-surprisèd
eyes
Within
his
truncheon’s
length
,
whilst
they
,
distilled
Almost
to
jelly
with
the
act
of
fear
,
Stand
dumb
and
speak
not
to
him
.
This
to
me
In
dreadful
secrecy
impart
they
did
,
And
I
with
them
the
third
night
kept
the
watch
,
Where
,
as
they
had
delivered
,
both
in
time
,
Form
of
the
thing
(
each
word
made
true
and
good
)
,
The
apparition
comes
.
I
knew
your
father
;
These
hands
are
not
more
like
.
But
where
was
this
?
My
lord
,
upon
the
platform
where
we
watch
.
Did
you
not
speak
to
it
?
My
lord
,
I
did
,
But
answer
made
it
none
.
Yet
once
methought
It
lifted
up
its
head
and
did
address
Itself
to
motion
,
like
as
it
would
speak
;
But
even
then
the
morning
cock
crew
loud
,
And
at
the
sound
it
shrunk
in
haste
away
And
vanished
from
our
sight
.
’Tis
very
strange
.
As
I
do
live
,
my
honored
lord
,
’tis
true
.
And
we
did
think
it
writ
down
in
our
duty
To
let
you
know
of
it
.
Indeed
,
sirs
,
but
this
troubles
me
.
Hold
you
the
watch
tonight
?
We
do
,
my
lord
.
Armed
,
say
you
?
ACT 1. SC. 2
Armed
,
my
lord
.
From
top
to
toe
?
My
lord
,
from
head
to
foot
.
Then
saw
you
not
his
face
?
O
,
yes
,
my
lord
,
he
wore
his
beaver
up
.
What
,
looked
he
frowningly
?
A
countenance
more
in
sorrow
than
in
anger
.
Pale
or
red
?
Nay
,
very
pale
.
And
fixed
his
eyes
upon
you
?
Most
constantly
.
I
would
I
had
been
there
.
It
would
have
much
amazed
you
.
Very
like
.
Stayed
it
long
?
While
one
with
moderate
haste
might
tell
a
hundred
.
Longer
,
longer
.
Not
when
I
saw
’t
.
His
beard
was
grizzled
,
no
?
It
was
as
I
have
seen
it
in
his
life
,
A
sable
silvered
.
I
will
watch
tonight
.
Perchance
’twill
walk
again
.
I
warrant
it
will
.
If
it
assume
my
noble
father’s
person
,
I’ll
speak
to
it
,
though
hell
itself
should
gape
And
bid
me
hold
my
peace
.
I
pray
you
all
,
If
you
have
hitherto
concealed
this
sight
,
ACT 1. SC. 3
Let
it
be
tenable
in
your
silence
still
;
And
whatsomever
else
shall
hap
tonight
,
Give
it
an
understanding
but
no
tongue
.
I
will
requite
your
loves
.
So
fare
you
well
.
Upon
the
platform
,
’twixt
eleven
and
twelve
,
I’ll
visit
you
.
Our
duty
to
your
Honor
.
Your
loves
,
as
mine
to
you
.
Farewell
.
All
but
Hamlet
exit
.
My
father’s
spirit
—
in
arms
!
All
is
not
well
.
I
doubt
some
foul
play
.
Would
the
night
were
come
!
Till
then
,
sit
still
,
my
soul
.
Foul
deeds
will
rise
,
Though
all
the
earth
o’erwhelm
them
,
to
men’s
eyes
.
He
exits
.
Scene
3
Enter
Laertes
and
Ophelia
,
his
sister
.
My
necessaries
are
embarked
.
Farewell
.
And
,
sister
,
as
the
winds
give
benefit
And
convey
is
assistant
,
do
not
sleep
,
But
let
me
hear
from
you
.
Do
you
doubt
that
?
For
Hamlet
,
and
the
trifling
of
his
favor
,
Hold
it
a
fashion
and
a
toy
in
blood
,
A
violet
in
the
youth
of
primy
nature
,
Forward
,
not
permanent
,
sweet
,
not
lasting
,
The
perfume
and
suppliance
of
a
minute
,
No
more
.
No
more
but
so
?
Think
it
no
more
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
For
nature
,
crescent
,
does
not
grow
alone
In
thews
and
bulk
,
but
,
as
this
temple
waxes
,
The
inward
service
of
the
mind
and
soul
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
weighed
,
his
will
is
not
his
own
,
For
he
himself
is
subject
to
his
birth
.
He
may
not
,
as
unvalued
persons
do
,
Carve
for
himself
,
for
on
his
choice
depends
The
safety
and
the
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
As
he
in
his
particular
act
and
place
May
give
his
saying
deed
,
which
is
no
further
Than
the
main
voice
of
Denmark
goes
withal
.
Then
weigh
what
loss
your
honor
may
sustain
If
with
too
credent
ear
you
list
his
songs
Or
lose
your
heart
or
your
chaste
treasure
open
To
his
unmastered
importunity
.
Fear
it
,
Ophelia
;
fear
it
,
my
dear
sister
,
And
keep
you
in
the
rear
of
your
affection
,
Out
of
the
shot
and
danger
of
desire
.
The
chariest
maid
is
prodigal
enough
If
she
unmask
her
beauty
to
the
moon
.
Virtue
itself
’scapes
not
calumnious
strokes
.
The
canker
galls
the
infants
of
the
spring
Too
oft
before
their
buttons
be
disclosed
,
And
,
in
the
morn
and
liquid
dew
of
youth
,
Contagious
blastments
are
most
imminent
.
Be
wary
,
then
;
best
safety
lies
in
fear
.
Youth
to
itself
rebels
,
though
none
else
near
.
I
shall
the
effect
of
this
good
lesson
keep
ACT 1. SC. 3
As
watchman
to
my
heart
.
But
,
good
my
brother
,
Do
not
,
as
some
ungracious
pastors
do
,
Show
me
the
steep
and
thorny
way
to
heaven
,
Whiles
,
like
a
puffed
and
reckless
libertine
,
Himself
the
primrose
path
of
dalliance
treads
And
recks
not
his
own
rede
.
O
,
fear
me
not
.
Enter
Polonius
.
I
stay
too
long
.
But
here
my
father
comes
.
A
double
blessing
is
a
double
grace
.
Occasion
smiles
upon
a
second
leave
.
Yet
here
,
Laertes
?
Aboard
,
aboard
,
for
shame
!
The
wind
sits
in
the
shoulder
of
your
sail
,
And
you
are
stayed
for
.
There
,
my
blessing
with
thee
.
And
these
few
precepts
in
thy
memory
Look
thou
character
.
Give
thy
thoughts
no
tongue
,
Nor
any
unproportioned
thought
his
act
.
Be
thou
familiar
,
but
by
no
means
vulgar
.
Those
friends
thou
hast
,
and
their
adoption
tried
,
Grapple
them
unto
thy
soul
with
hoops
of
steel
,
But
do
not
dull
thy
palm
with
entertainment
Of
each
new-hatched
,
unfledged
courage
.
Beware
Of
entrance
to
a
quarrel
,
but
,
being
in
,
Bear
’t
that
th’
opposèd
may
beware
of
thee
.
Give
every
man
thy
ear
,
but
few
thy
voice
.
Take
each
man’s
censure
,
but
reserve
thy
judgment
.
Costly
thy
habit
as
thy
purse
can
buy
,
But
not
expressed
in
fancy
(
rich
,
not
gaudy
)
,
For
the
apparel
oft
proclaims
the
man
,
And
they
in
France
of
the
best
rank
and
station
Are
of
a
most
select
and
generous
chief
in
that
.
Neither
a
borrower
nor
a
lender
be
,
For
loan
oft
loses
both
itself
and
friend
,
ACT 1. SC. 3
And
borrowing
dulls
the
edge
of
husbandry
.
This
above
all
:
to
thine
own
self
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
invests
you
.
Go
,
your
servants
tend
.
Farewell
,
Ophelia
,
and
remember
well
What
I
have
said
to
you
.
’Tis
in
my
memory
locked
,
And
you
yourself
shall
keep
the
key
of
it
.
Farewell
.
Laertes
exits
.
What
is
’t
,
Ophelia
,
he
hath
said
to
you
?
So
please
you
,
something
touching
the
Lord
Hamlet
.
Marry
,
well
bethought
.
’Tis
told
me
he
hath
very
oft
of
late
Given
private
time
to
you
,
and
you
yourself
Have
of
your
audience
been
most
free
and
bounteous
.
If
it
be
so
(
as
so
’tis
put
on
me
,
And
that
in
way
of
caution
)
,
I
must
tell
you
You
do
not
understand
yourself
so
clearly
As
it
behooves
my
daughter
and
your
honor
.
What
is
between
you
?
Give
me
up
the
truth
.
He
hath
,
my
lord
,
of
late
made
many
tenders
Of
his
affection
to
me
.
Affection
,
puh
!
You
speak
like
a
green
girl
Unsifted
in
such
perilous
circumstance
.
Do
you
believe
his
tenders
,
as
you
call
them
?
ACT 1. SC. 3
I
do
not
know
,
my
lord
,
what
I
should
think
.
Marry
,
I
will
teach
you
.
Think
yourself
a
baby
That
you
have
ta’en
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
)
you’ll
tender
me
a
fool
.
My
lord
,
he
hath
importuned
me
with
love
In
honorable
fashion
—
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
something
scanter
of
your
maiden
presence
.
Set
your
entreatments
at
a
higher
rate
Than
a
command
to
parle
.
For
Lord
Hamlet
,
Believe
so
much
in
him
that
he
is
young
,
And
with
a
larger
tether
may
he
walk
Than
may
be
given
you
.
In
few
,
Ophelia
,
Do
not
believe
his
vows
,
for
they
are
brokers
,
Not
of
that
dye
which
their
investments
show
,
But
mere
implorators
of
unholy
suits
,
Breathing
like
sanctified
and
pious
bawds
The
better
to
beguile
.
This
is
for
all
:
I
would
not
,
in
plain
terms
,
from
this
time
forth
Have
you
so
slander
any
moment
leisure
ACT 1. SC. 4
As
to
give
words
or
talk
with
the
Lord
Hamlet
.
Look
to
’t
,
I
charge
you
.
Come
your
ways
.
I
shall
obey
,
my
lord
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Enter
Hamlet
,
Horatio
,
and
Marcellus
.
The
air
bites
shrewdly
;
it
is
very
cold
.
It
is
a
nipping
and
an
eager
air
.
What
hour
now
?
I
think
it
lacks
of
twelve
.
No
,
it
is
struck
.
Indeed
,
I
heard
it
not
.
It
then
draws
near
the
season
Wherein
the
spirit
held
his
wont
to
walk
.
A
flourish
of
trumpets
and
two
pieces
goes
off
.
What
does
this
mean
,
my
lord
?
The
King
doth
wake
tonight
and
takes
his
rouse
,
Keeps
wassail
,
and
the
swagg’ring
upspring
reels
;
And
,
as
he
drains
his
draughts
of
Rhenish
down
,
The
kettledrum
and
trumpet
thus
bray
out
The
triumph
of
his
pledge
.
Is
it
a
custom
?
Ay
,
marry
,
is
’t
,
But
,
to
my
mind
,
though
I
am
native
here
And
to
the
manner
born
,
it
is
a
custom
More
honored
in
the
breach
than
the
observance
.
This
heavy-headed
revel
east
and
west
Makes
us
traduced
and
taxed
of
other
nations
.
They
clepe
us
drunkards
and
with
swinish
phrase
Soil
our
addition
.
And
,
indeed
,
it
takes
ACT 1. SC. 4
From
our
achievements
,
though
performed
at
height
,
The
pith
and
marrow
of
our
attribute
.
So
oft
it
chances
in
particular
men
That
for
some
vicious
mole
of
nature
in
them
,
As
in
their
birth
(
wherein
they
are
not
guilty
,
Since
nature
cannot
choose
his
origin
)
,
By
the
o’ergrowth
of
some
complexion
(
Oft
breaking
down
the
pales
and
forts
of
reason
)
,
Or
by
some
habit
that
too
much
o’erleavens
The
form
of
plausive
manners
—
that
these
men
,
Carrying
,
I
say
,
the
stamp
of
one
defect
,
Being
nature’s
livery
or
fortune’s
star
,
His
virtues
else
,
be
they
as
pure
as
grace
,
As
infinite
as
man
may
undergo
,
Shall
in
the
general
censure
take
corruption
From
that
particular
fault
.
The
dram
of
evil
Doth
all
the
noble
substance
of
a
doubt
To
his
own
scandal
.
Enter
Ghost
.
Look
,
my
lord
,
it
comes
.
Angels
and
ministers
of
grace
,
defend
us
!
Be
thou
a
spirit
of
health
or
goblin
damned
,
Bring
with
thee
airs
from
heaven
or
blasts
from
hell
,
Be
thy
intents
wicked
or
charitable
,
Thou
com’st
in
such
a
questionable
shape
That
I
will
speak
to
thee
.
I’ll
call
thee
Hamlet
,
King
,
Father
,
Royal
Dane
.
O
,
answer
me
!
Let
me
not
burst
in
ignorance
,
but
tell
Why
thy
canonized
bones
,
hearsèd
in
death
,
Have
burst
their
cerements
;
why
the
sepulcher
,
Wherein
we
saw
thee
quietly
interred
,
Hath
oped
his
ponderous
and
marble
jaws
ACT 1. SC. 4
To
cast
thee
up
again
.
What
may
this
mean
That
thou
,
dead
corse
,
again
in
complete
steel
,
Revisits
thus
the
glimpses
of
the
moon
,
Making
night
hideous
,
and
we
fools
of
nature
So
horridly
to
shake
our
disposition
With
thoughts
beyond
the
reaches
of
our
souls
?
Say
,
why
is
this
?
Wherefore
?
What
should
we
do
?
Ghost
beckons
.
It
beckons
you
to
go
away
with
it
As
if
it
some
impartment
did
desire
To
you
alone
.
Look
with
what
courteous
action
It
waves
you
to
a
more
removèd
ground
.
But
do
not
go
with
it
.
No
,
by
no
means
.
It
will
not
speak
.
Then
I
will
follow
it
.
Do
not
,
my
lord
.
Why
,
what
should
be
the
fear
?
I
do
not
set
my
life
at
a
pin’s
fee
.
And
for
my
soul
,
what
can
it
do
to
that
,
Being
a
thing
immortal
as
itself
?
It
waves
me
forth
again
.
I’ll
follow
it
.
What
if
it
tempt
you
toward
the
flood
,
my
lord
?
Or
to
the
dreadful
summit
of
the
cliff
That
beetles
o’er
his
base
into
the
sea
,
And
there
assume
some
other
horrible
form
Which
might
deprive
your
sovereignty
of
reason
And
draw
you
into
madness
?
Think
of
it
.
The
very
place
puts
toys
of
desperation
,
Without
more
motive
,
into
every
brain
That
looks
so
many
fathoms
to
the
sea
And
hears
it
roar
beneath
.
ACT 1. SC. 5
It
waves
me
still
.
—
Go
on
,
I’ll
follow
thee
.
You
shall
not
go
,
my
lord
.
They
hold
back
Hamlet
.
Hold
off
your
hands
.
Be
ruled
.
You
shall
not
go
.
My
fate
cries
out
And
makes
each
petty
arture
in
this
body
As
hardy
as
the
Nemean
lion’s
nerve
.
Still
am
I
called
.
Unhand
me
,
gentlemen
.
By
heaven
,
I’ll
make
a
ghost
of
him
that
lets
me
!
I
say
,
away
!
—
Go
on
.
I’ll
follow
thee
.
Ghost
and
Hamlet
exit
.
He
waxes
desperate
with
imagination
.
Let’s
follow
.
’Tis
not
fit
thus
to
obey
him
.
Have
after
.
To
what
issue
will
this
come
?
Something
is
rotten
in
the
state
of
Denmark
.
Heaven
will
direct
it
.
Nay
,
let’s
follow
him
.
They
exit
.
Scene
5
Enter
Ghost
and
Hamlet
.
Whither
wilt
thou
lead
me
?
Speak
.
I’ll
go
no
further
.
Mark
me
.
ACT 1. SC. 5
I
will
.
My
hour
is
almost
come
When
I
to
sulf’rous
and
tormenting
flames
Must
render
up
myself
.
Alas
,
poor
ghost
!
Pity
me
not
,
but
lend
thy
serious
hearing
To
what
I
shall
unfold
.
Speak
.
I
am
bound
to
hear
.
So
art
thou
to
revenge
,
when
thou
shalt
hear
.
What
?
I
am
thy
father’s
spirit
,
Doomed
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
To
tell
the
secrets
of
my
prison
house
,
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
,
Thy
knotted
and
combinèd
locks
to
part
,
And
each
particular
hair
to
stand
an
end
,
Like
quills
upon
the
fearful
porpentine
.
But
this
eternal
blazon
must
not
be
To
ears
of
flesh
and
blood
.
List
,
list
,
O
list
!
If
thou
didst
ever
thy
dear
father
love
—
O
God
!
Revenge
his
foul
and
most
unnatural
murder
.
Murder
?
Murder
most
foul
,
as
in
the
best
it
is
,
But
this
most
foul
,
strange
,
and
unnatural
.
Haste
me
to
know
’t
,
that
I
,
with
wings
as
swift
ACT 1. SC. 5
As
meditation
or
the
thoughts
of
love
,
May
sweep
to
my
revenge
.
I
find
thee
apt
;
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
Is
by
a
forgèd
process
of
my
death
Rankly
abused
.
But
know
,
thou
noble
youth
,
The
serpent
that
did
sting
thy
father’s
life
Now
wears
his
crown
.
O
,
my
prophetic
soul
!
My
uncle
!
Ay
,
that
incestuous
,
that
adulterate
beast
,
With
witchcraft
of
his
wits
wit
,
with
traitorous
gifts
—
O
wicked
wit
and
gifts
,
that
have
the
power
So
to
seduce
!
—
won
to
his
shameful
lust
The
will
of
my
most
seeming-virtuous
queen
.
O
Hamlet
,
what
a
falling
off
was
there
!
From
me
,
whose
love
was
of
that
dignity
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
To
those
of
mine
.
But
virtue
,
as
it
never
will
be
moved
,
Though
lewdness
court
it
in
a
shape
of
heaven
,
So
,
lust
,
though
to
a
radiant
angel
linked
,
Will
sate
itself
in
a
celestial
bed
And
prey
on
garbage
.
But
soft
,
methinks
I
scent
the
morning
air
.
Brief
let
me
be
.
Sleeping
within
my
orchard
,
My
custom
always
of
the
afternoon
,
Upon
my
secure
hour
thy
uncle
stole
,
With
juice
of
cursèd
hebona
in
a
vial
,
And
in
the
porches
of
my
ears
did
pour
ACT 1. SC. 5
The
leprous
distilment
,
whose
effect
Holds
such
an
enmity
with
blood
of
man
That
swift
as
quicksilver
it
courses
through
The
natural
gates
and
alleys
of
the
body
,
And
with
a
sudden
vigor
it
doth
posset
And
curd
,
like
eager
droppings
into
milk
,
The
thin
and
wholesome
blood
.
So
did
it
mine
,
And
a
most
instant
tetter
barked
about
,
Most
lazar-like
,
with
vile
and
loathsome
crust
All
my
smooth
body
.
Thus
was
I
,
sleeping
,
by
a
brother’s
hand
Of
life
,
of
crown
,
of
queen
at
once
dispatched
,
Cut
off
,
even
in
the
blossoms
of
my
sin
,
Unhouseled
,
disappointed
,
unaneled
,
No
reck’ning
made
,
but
sent
to
my
account
With
all
my
imperfections
on
my
head
.
O
horrible
,
O
horrible
,
most
horrible
!
If
thou
hast
nature
in
thee
,
bear
it
not
.
Let
not
the
royal
bed
of
Denmark
be
A
couch
for
luxury
and
damnèd
incest
.
But
,
howsomever
thou
pursues
this
act
,
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
glowworm
shows
the
matin
to
be
near
And
’gins
to
pale
his
uneffectual
fire
.
Adieu
,
adieu
,
adieu
.
Remember
me
.
He
exits
.
O
all
you
host
of
heaven
!
O
Earth
earth
!
What
else
?
And
shall
I
couple
hell
?
O
fie
!
Hold
,
hold
,
my
heart
,
And
you
,
my
sinews
,
grow
not
instant
old
,
But
bear
me
stiffly
up
.
Remember
thee
?
Ay
,
thou
poor
ghost
,
whiles
memory
holds
a
seat
In
this
distracted
globe
.
Remember
thee
?
Yea
,
from
the
table
of
my
memory
ACT 1. SC. 5
I’ll
wipe
away
all
trivial
,
fond
records
,
All
saws
of
books
,
all
forms
,
all
pressures
past
,
That
youth
and
observation
copied
there
,
And
thy
commandment
all
alone
shall
live
Within
the
book
and
volume
of
my
brain
,
Unmixed
with
baser
matter
.
Yes
,
by
heaven
!
O
most
pernicious
woman
!
O
villain
,
villain
,
smiling
,
damnèd
villain
!
My
tables
—
meet
it
is
I
set
it
down
That
one
may
smile
and
smile
and
be
a
villain
.
At
least
I
am
sure
it
may
be
so
in
Denmark
.
He
writes
.
So
,
uncle
,
there
you
are
.
Now
to
my
word
.
It
is
adieu
,
adieu
,
remember
me
.
I
have
sworn
’t
.
Enter
Horatio
and
Marcellus
.
My
lord
,
my
lord
!
Lord
Hamlet
.
Heavens
secure
him
!
So
be
it
.
Illo
,
ho
,
ho
,
my
lord
!
Hillo
,
ho
,
ho
,
boy
!
Come
,
bird
,
come
!
How
is
’t
,
my
noble
lord
?
What
news
,
my
lord
?
O
,
wonderful
!
Good
my
lord
,
tell
it
.
No
,
you
will
reveal
it
.
Not
I
,
my
lord
,
by
heaven
.
Nor
I
,
my
lord
.
How
say
you
,
then
?
Would
heart
of
man
once
think
it
?
But
you’ll
be
secret
?
ACT 1. SC. 5
Ay
,
by
heaven
,
my
lord
.
There’s
never
a
villain
dwelling
in
all
Denmark
But
he’s
an
arrant
knave
.
There
needs
no
ghost
,
my
lord
,
come
from
the
grave
To
tell
us
this
.
Why
,
right
,
you
are
in
the
right
.
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
(
For
every
man
hath
business
and
desire
,
Such
as
it
is
)
,
and
for
my
own
poor
part
,
I
will
go
pray
.
These
are
but
wild
and
whirling
words
,
my
lord
.
I
am
sorry
they
offend
you
,
heartily
;
Yes
,
faith
,
heartily
.
There’s
no
offense
,
my
lord
.
Yes
,
by
Saint
Patrick
,
but
there
is
,
Horatio
,
And
much
offense
,
too
.
Touching
this
vision
here
,
It
is
an
honest
ghost
—
that
let
me
tell
you
.
For
your
desire
to
know
what
is
between
us
,
O’ermaster
’t
as
you
may
.
And
now
,
good
friends
,
As
you
are
friends
,
scholars
,
and
soldiers
,
Give
me
one
poor
request
.
What
is
’t
,
my
lord
?
We
will
.
Never
make
known
what
you
have
seen
tonight
.
My
lord
,
we
will
not
.
Nay
,
but
swear
’t
.
In
faith
,
my
lord
,
not
I
.
Nor
I
,
my
lord
,
in
faith
.
Upon
my
sword
.
ACT 1. SC. 5
We
have
sworn
,
my
lord
,
already
.
Indeed
,
upon
my
sword
,
indeed
.
cries
under
the
stage
Swear
.
Ha
,
ha
,
boy
,
sayst
thou
so
?
Art
thou
there
,
truepenny
?
Come
on
,
you
hear
this
fellow
in
the
cellarage
.
Consent
to
swear
.
Propose
the
oath
,
my
lord
.
Never
to
speak
of
this
that
you
have
seen
,
Swear
by
my
sword
.
,
beneath
Swear
.
Hic
et
ubique
?
Then
we’ll
shift
our
ground
.
Come
hither
,
gentlemen
,
And
lay
your
hands
again
upon
my
sword
.
Swear
by
my
sword
Never
to
speak
of
this
that
you
have
heard
.
,
beneath
Swear
by
his
sword
.
Well
said
,
old
mole
.
Canst
work
i’
th’
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
,
How
strange
or
odd
some’er
I
bear
myself
(
As
I
perchance
hereafter
shall
think
meet
To
put
an
antic
disposition
on
)
That
you
,
at
such
times
seeing
me
,
never
shall
,
With
arms
encumbered
thus
,
or
this
headshake
,
Or
by
pronouncing
of
some
doubtful
phrase
,
ACT 1. SC. 5
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
,
Or
such
ambiguous
giving-out
,
to
note
That
you
know
aught
of
me
—
this
do
swear
,
So
grace
and
mercy
at
your
most
need
help
you
.
,
beneath
Swear
.
Rest
,
rest
,
perturbèd
spirit
.
—
So
,
gentlemen
,
With
all
my
love
I
do
commend
me
to
you
,
And
what
so
poor
a
man
as
Hamlet
is
May
do
t’
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
cursèd
spite
That
ever
I
was
born
to
set
it
right
!
Nay
,
come
,
let’s
go
together
.
They
exit
.
ACT
2
Scene
1
Enter
old
Polonius
with
his
man
Reynaldo
.
Give
him
this
money
and
these
notes
,
Reynaldo
.
I
will
,
my
lord
.
You
shall
do
marvelous
wisely
,
good
Reynaldo
,
Before
you
visit
him
,
to
make
inquire
Of
his
behavior
.
My
lord
,
I
did
intend
it
.
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
?
Ay
,
very
well
,
my
lord
.
And
,
in
part
,
him
,
but
,
you
may
say
,
not
well
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
But
if
’t
be
he
I
mean
,
he’s
very
wild
,
Addicted
so
and
so
.
And
there
put
on
him
What
forgeries
you
please
—
marry
,
none
so
rank
As
may
dishonor
him
,
take
heed
of
that
,
But
,
sir
,
such
wanton
,
wild
,
and
usual
slips
As
are
companions
noted
and
most
known
To
youth
and
liberty
.
As
gaming
,
my
lord
.
Ay
,
or
drinking
,
fencing
,
swearing
,
Quarreling
,
drabbing
—
you
may
go
so
far
.
My
lord
,
that
would
dishonor
him
.
Faith
,
no
,
as
you
may
season
it
in
the
charge
.
You
must
not
put
another
scandal
on
him
That
he
is
open
to
incontinency
;
That’s
not
my
meaning
.
But
breathe
his
faults
so
quaintly
That
they
may
seem
the
taints
of
liberty
,
The
flash
and
outbreak
of
a
fiery
mind
,
A
savageness
in
unreclaimèd
blood
,
Of
general
assault
.
But
,
my
good
lord
—
Wherefore
should
you
do
this
?
Ay
,
my
lord
,
I
would
know
that
.
Marry
,
sir
,
here’s
my
drift
,
And
I
believe
it
is
a
fetch
of
wit
.
You
,
laying
these
slight
sullies
on
my
son
,
As
’twere
a
thing
a
little
soiled
i’
th’
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
He
closes
with
you
in
this
consequence
:
Good
sir
,
or
so
,
or
friend
,
or
gentleman
,
According
to
the
phrase
or
the
addition
Of
man
and
country
—
ACT 2. SC. 1
Very
good
,
my
lord
.
And
then
,
sir
,
does
he
this
,
he
does
—
what
was
I
about
to
say
?
By
the
Mass
,
I
was
about
to
say
something
.
Where
did
I
leave
?
At
closes
in
the
consequence
,
at
friend
,
or
so
,
and
gentleman
.
At
closes
in
the
consequence
—
ay
,
marry
—
He
closes
thus
:
I
know
the
gentleman
.
I
saw
him
yesterday
,
or
th’
other
day
(
Or
then
,
or
then
,
with
such
or
such
)
,
and
as
you
say
,
There
was
he
gaming
,
there
o’ertook
in
’s
rouse
,
There
falling
out
at
tennis
;
or
perchance
I
saw
him
enter
such
a
house
of
sale
—
Videlicet
,
a
brothel
—
or
so
forth
.
See
you
now
Your
bait
of
falsehood
take
this
carp
of
truth
;
And
thus
do
we
of
wisdom
and
of
reach
,
With
windlasses
and
with
assays
of
bias
,
By
indirections
find
directions
out
.
So
by
my
former
lecture
and
advice
Shall
you
my
son
.
You
have
me
,
have
you
not
?
My
lord
,
I
have
.
God
be
wi’
you
.
Fare
you
well
.
Good
my
lord
.
Observe
his
inclination
in
yourself
.
I
shall
,
my
lord
.
And
let
him
ply
his
music
.
Well
,
my
lord
.
Farewell
.
Reynaldo
exits
.
Enter
Ophelia
.
How
now
,
Ophelia
,
what’s
the
matter
?
ACT 2. SC. 1
O
,
my
lord
,
my
lord
,
I
have
been
so
affrighted
!
With
what
,
i’
th’
name
of
God
?
My
lord
,
as
I
was
sewing
in
my
closet
,
Lord
Hamlet
,
with
his
doublet
all
unbraced
,
No
hat
upon
his
head
,
his
stockings
fouled
,
Ungartered
,
and
down-gyvèd
to
his
ankle
,
Pale
as
his
shirt
,
his
knees
knocking
each
other
,
And
with
a
look
so
piteous
in
purport
As
if
he
had
been
loosèd
out
of
hell
To
speak
of
horrors
—
he
comes
before
me
.
Mad
for
thy
love
?
My
lord
,
I
do
not
know
,
But
truly
I
do
fear
it
.
What
said
he
?
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
o’er
his
brow
,
He
falls
to
such
perusal
of
my
face
As
he
would
draw
it
.
Long
stayed
he
so
.
At
last
,
a
little
shaking
of
mine
arm
,
And
thrice
his
head
thus
waving
up
and
down
,
He
raised
a
sigh
so
piteous
and
profound
As
it
did
seem
to
shatter
all
his
bulk
And
end
his
being
.
That
done
,
he
lets
me
go
,
And
,
with
his
head
over
his
shoulder
turned
,
He
seemed
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
.
This
is
the
very
ecstasy
of
love
,
Whose
violent
property
fordoes
itself
ACT 2. SC. 2
And
leads
the
will
to
desperate
undertakings
As
oft
as
any
passions
under
heaven
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
did
repel
his
letters
and
denied
His
access
to
me
.
That
hath
made
him
mad
.
I
am
sorry
that
with
better
heed
and
judgment
I
had
not
coted
him
.
I
feared
he
did
but
trifle
And
meant
to
wrack
thee
.
But
beshrew
my
jealousy
!
By
heaven
,
it
is
as
proper
to
our
age
To
cast
beyond
ourselves
in
our
opinions
As
it
is
common
for
the
younger
sort
To
lack
discretion
.
Come
,
go
we
to
the
King
.
This
must
be
known
,
which
,
being
kept
close
,
might
move
More
grief
to
hide
than
hate
to
utter
love
.
Come
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Flourish
.
Enter
King
and
Queen
,
Rosencrantz
and
Guildenstern
and
Attendants
.
Welcome
,
dear
Rosencrantz
and
Guildenstern
.
Moreover
that
we
much
did
long
to
see
you
,
The
need
we
have
to
use
you
did
provoke
Our
hasty
sending
.
Something
have
you
heard
Of
Hamlet’s
transformation
,
so
call
it
,
Sith
nor
th’
exterior
nor
the
inward
man
Resembles
that
it
was
.
What
it
should
be
,
More
than
his
father’s
death
,
that
thus
hath
put
him
ACT 2. SC. 2
So
much
from
th’
understanding
of
himself
I
cannot
dream
of
.
I
entreat
you
both
That
,
being
of
so
young
days
brought
up
with
him
And
sith
so
neighbored
to
his
youth
and
havior
,
That
you
vouchsafe
your
rest
here
in
our
court
Some
little
time
,
so
by
your
companies
To
draw
him
on
to
pleasures
,
and
to
gather
So
much
as
from
occasion
you
may
glean
,
Whether
aught
to
us
unknown
afflicts
him
thus
That
,
opened
,
lies
within
our
remedy
.
Good
gentlemen
,
he
hath
much
talked
of
you
,
And
sure
I
am
two
men
there
is
not
living
To
whom
he
more
adheres
.
If
it
will
please
you
To
show
us
so
much
gentry
and
goodwill
As
to
expend
your
time
with
us
awhile
For
the
supply
and
profit
of
our
hope
,
Your
visitation
shall
receive
such
thanks
As
fits
a
king’s
remembrance
.
Both
your
Majesties
Might
,
by
the
sovereign
power
you
have
of
us
,
Put
your
dread
pleasures
more
into
command
Than
to
entreaty
.
But
we
both
obey
,
And
here
give
up
ourselves
in
the
full
bent
To
lay
our
service
freely
at
your
feet
,
To
be
commanded
.
Thanks
,
Rosencrantz
and
gentle
Guildenstern
.
Thanks
,
Guildenstern
and
gentle
Rosencrantz
.
And
I
beseech
you
instantly
to
visit
My
too
much
changèd
son
.
—
Go
,
some
of
you
,
And
bring
these
gentlemen
where
Hamlet
is
.
Heavens
make
our
presence
and
our
practices
Pleasant
and
helpful
to
him
!
ACT 2. SC. 2
Ay
,
amen
!
Rosencrantz
and
Guildenstern
exit
with
some
Attendants
.
Enter
Polonius
.
Th’
ambassadors
from
Norway
,
my
good
lord
,
Are
joyfully
returned
.
Thou
still
hast
been
the
father
of
good
news
.
Have
I
,
my
lord
?
I
assure
my
good
liege
I
hold
my
duty
as
I
hold
my
soul
,
Both
to
my
God
and
to
my
gracious
king
,
And
I
do
think
,
or
else
this
brain
of
mine
Hunts
not
the
trail
of
policy
so
sure
As
it
hath
used
to
do
,
that
I
have
found
The
very
cause
of
Hamlet’s
lunacy
.
O
,
speak
of
that
!
That
do
I
long
to
hear
.
Give
first
admittance
to
th’
ambassadors
.
My
news
shall
be
the
fruit
to
that
great
feast
.
Thyself
do
grace
to
them
and
bring
them
in
.
Polonius
exits
.
He
tells
me
,
my
dear
Gertrude
,
he
hath
found
The
head
and
source
of
all
your
son’s
distemper
.
I
doubt
it
is
no
other
but
the
main
—
His
father’s
death
and
our
o’erhasty
marriage
.
Well
,
we
shall
sift
him
.
Enter
Ambassadors
Voltemand
and
Cornelius
with
Polonius
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
Welcome
,
my
good
friends
.
Say
,
Voltemand
,
what
from
our
brother
Norway
?
Most
fair
return
of
greetings
and
desires
.
Upon
our
first
,
he
sent
out
to
suppress
His
nephew’s
levies
,
which
to
him
appeared
To
be
a
preparation
’gainst
the
Polack
,
But
,
better
looked
into
,
he
truly
found
It
was
against
your
Highness
.
Whereat
,
grieved
That
so
his
sickness
,
age
,
and
impotence
Was
falsely
borne
in
hand
,
sends
out
arrests
On
Fortinbras
,
which
he
,
in
brief
,
obeys
,
Receives
rebuke
from
Norway
,
and
,
in
fine
,
Makes
vow
before
his
uncle
never
more
To
give
th’
assay
of
arms
against
your
Majesty
.
Whereon
old
Norway
,
overcome
with
joy
,
Gives
him
three-score
thousand
crowns
in
annual
fee
And
his
commission
to
employ
those
soldiers
,
So
levied
as
before
,
against
the
Polack
,
With
an
entreaty
,
herein
further
shown
,
He
gives
a
paper
.
That
it
might
please
you
to
give
quiet
pass
Through
your
dominions
for
this
enterprise
,
On
such
regards
of
safety
and
allowance
As
therein
are
set
down
.
It
likes
us
well
,
And
,
at
our
more
considered
time
,
we’ll
read
,
Answer
,
and
think
upon
this
business
.
Meantime
,
we
thank
you
for
your
well-took
labor
.
Go
to
your
rest
.
At
night
we’ll
feast
together
.
Most
welcome
home
!
Voltemand
and
Cornelius
exit
.
This
business
is
well
ended
.
My
liege
,
and
madam
,
to
expostulate
What
majesty
should
be
,
what
duty
is
,
ACT 2. SC. 2
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
,
I
will
be
brief
.
Your
noble
son
is
mad
.
Mad
call
I
it
,
for
,
to
define
true
madness
,
What
is
’t
but
to
be
nothing
else
but
mad
?
But
let
that
go
.
More
matter
with
less
art
.
Madam
,
I
swear
I
use
no
art
at
all
.
That
he’s
mad
,
’tis
true
;
’tis
true
’tis
pity
,
And
pity
’tis
’tis
true
—
a
foolish
figure
,
But
farewell
it
,
for
I
will
use
no
art
.
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
)
Who
,
in
her
duty
and
obedience
,
mark
,
Hath
given
me
this
.
Now
gather
and
surmise
.
He
reads
.
To
the
celestial
,
and
my
soul’s
idol
,
the
most
beautified
Ophelia
—
That’s
an
ill
phrase
,
a
vile
phrase
;
beautified
is
a
vile
phrase
.
But
you
shall
hear
.
Thus
:
He
reads
.
In
her
excellent
white
bosom
,
these
,
etc.
—
Came
this
from
Hamlet
to
her
?
Good
madam
,
stay
awhile
.
I
will
be
faithful
.
He
reads
the
letter
.
Doubt
thou
the
stars
are
fire
,
Doubt
that
the
sun
doth
move
,
Doubt
truth
to
be
a
liar
,
But
never
doubt
I
love
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
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
.
Thine
evermore
,
most
dear
lady
,
whilst
this
machine
is
to
him
,
Hamlet
.
This
,
in
obedience
,
hath
my
daughter
shown
me
,
And
more
above
,
hath
his
solicitings
,
As
they
fell
out
by
time
,
by
means
,
and
place
,
All
given
to
mine
ear
.
But
how
hath
she
received
his
love
?
What
do
you
think
of
me
?
As
of
a
man
faithful
and
honorable
.
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
,
If
I
had
played
the
desk
or
table-book
Or
given
my
heart
a
winking
,
mute
and
dumb
,
Or
looked
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
prescripts
gave
her
,
That
she
should
lock
herself
from
his
resort
,
Admit
no
messengers
,
receive
no
tokens
;
Which
done
,
she
took
the
fruits
of
my
advice
,
And
he
,
repelled
(
a
short
tale
to
make
)
,
Fell
into
a
sadness
,
then
into
a
fast
,
Thence
to
a
watch
,
thence
into
a
weakness
,
Thence
to
a
lightness
,
and
,
by
this
declension
,
Into
the
madness
wherein
now
he
raves
And
all
we
mourn
for
.
,
to
Queen
Do
you
think
’tis
this
?
ACT 2. SC. 2
It
may
be
,
very
like
.
Hath
there
been
such
a
time
(
I
would
fain
know
that
)
That
I
have
positively
said
’Tis
so
,
When
it
proved
otherwise
?
Not
that
I
know
.
Take
this
from
this
,
if
this
be
otherwise
.
If
circumstances
lead
me
,
I
will
find
Where
truth
is
hid
,
though
it
were
hid
,
indeed
,
Within
the
center
.
How
may
we
try
it
further
?
You
know
sometimes
he
walks
four
hours
together
Here
in
the
lobby
.
So
he
does
indeed
.
At
such
a
time
I’ll
loose
my
daughter
to
him
.
To
the
King
.
Be
you
and
I
behind
an
arras
then
.
Mark
the
encounter
.
If
he
love
her
not
,
And
be
not
from
his
reason
fall’n
thereon
,
Let
me
be
no
assistant
for
a
state
,
But
keep
a
farm
and
carters
.
We
will
try
it
.
Enter
Hamlet
reading
on
a
book
.
But
look
where
sadly
the
poor
wretch
comes
reading
.
Away
,
I
do
beseech
you
both
,
away
.
I’ll
board
him
presently
.
O
,
give
me
leave
.
King
and
Queen
exit
with
Attendants
.
How
does
my
good
Lord
Hamlet
?
Well
,
God-a-mercy
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
Do
you
know
me
,
my
lord
?
Excellent
well
.
You
are
a
fishmonger
.
Not
I
,
my
lord
.
Then
I
would
you
were
so
honest
a
man
.
Honest
,
my
lord
?
Ay
,
sir
.
To
be
honest
,
as
this
world
goes
,
is
to
be
one
man
picked
out
of
ten
thousand
.
That’s
very
true
,
my
lord
.
For
if
the
sun
breed
maggots
in
a
dead
dog
,
being
a
good
kissing
carrion
—
Have
you
a
daughter
?
I
have
,
my
lord
.
Let
her
not
walk
i’
th’
sun
.
Conception
is
a
blessing
,
but
,
as
your
daughter
may
conceive
,
friend
,
look
to
’t
.
,
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
.
And
truly
,
in
my
youth
,
I
suffered
much
extremity
for
love
,
very
near
this
.
I’ll
speak
to
him
again
.
—
What
do
you
read
,
my
lord
?
Words
,
words
,
words
.
What
is
the
matter
,
my
lord
?
Between
who
?
I
mean
the
matter
that
you
read
,
my
lord
.
Slanders
,
sir
;
for
the
satirical
rogue
says
here
that
old
men
have
gray
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
,
shall
grow
old
as
I
am
,
if
,
like
a
crab
,
you
could
go
backward
.
,
aside
Though
this
be
madness
,
yet
there
is
method
in
’t
.
—
Will
you
walk
out
of
the
air
,
my
lord
?
ACT 2. SC. 2
Into
my
grave
?
Indeed
,
that’s
out
of
the
air
.
Aside
.
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
lord
,
I
will
take
my
leave
of
you
.
You
cannot
,
sir
,
take
from
me
anything
that
I
will
more
willingly
part
withal
—
except
my
life
,
except
my
life
,
except
my
life
.
Fare
you
well
,
my
lord
.
,
aside
These
tedious
old
fools
.
Enter
Guildenstern
and
Rosencrantz
.
You
go
to
seek
the
Lord
Hamlet
.
There
he
is
.
,
to
Polonius
God
save
you
,
sir
.
Polonius
exits
.
My
honored
lord
.
My
most
dear
lord
.
My
excellent
good
friends
!
How
dost
thou
,
Guildenstern
?
Ah
,
Rosencrantz
!
Good
lads
,
how
do
you
both
?
As
the
indifferent
children
of
the
earth
.
Happy
in
that
we
are
not
overhappy
.
On
Fortune’s
cap
,
we
are
not
the
very
button
.
Nor
the
soles
of
her
shoe
?
Neither
,
my
lord
.
Then
you
live
about
her
waist
,
or
in
the
middle
of
her
favors
?
Faith
,
her
privates
we
.
In
the
secret
parts
of
Fortune
?
O
,
most
true
!
She
is
a
strumpet
.
What
news
?
None
,
my
lord
,
but
that
the
world’s
grown
honest
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
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
that
she
sends
you
to
prison
hither
?
Prison
,
my
lord
?
Denmark’s
a
prison
.
Then
is
the
world
one
.
A
goodly
one
,
in
which
there
are
many
confines
,
wards
,
and
dungeons
,
Denmark
being
one
o’
th’
worst
.
We
think
not
so
,
my
lord
.
Why
,
then
,
’tis
none
to
you
,
for
there
is
nothing
either
good
or
bad
but
thinking
makes
it
so
.
To
me
,
it
is
a
prison
.
Why
,
then
,
your
ambition
makes
it
one
.
’Tis
too
narrow
for
your
mind
.
O
God
,
I
could
be
bounded
in
a
nutshell
and
count
myself
a
king
of
infinite
space
,
were
it
not
that
I
have
bad
dreams
.
Which
dreams
,
indeed
,
are
ambition
,
for
the
very
substance
of
the
ambitious
is
merely
the
shadow
of
a
dream
.
A
dream
itself
is
but
a
shadow
.
Truly
,
and
I
hold
ambition
of
so
airy
and
light
a
quality
that
it
is
but
a
shadow’s
shadow
.
Then
are
our
beggars
bodies
,
and
our
monarchs
and
outstretched
heroes
the
beggars’
shadows
.
Shall
we
to
th’
court
?
For
,
by
my
fay
,
I
cannot
reason
.
We’ll
wait
upon
you
.
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
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
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
,
come
,
deal
justly
with
me
.
Come
,
come
;
nay
,
speak
.
What
should
we
say
,
my
lord
?
Anything
but
to
th’
purpose
.
You
were
sent
for
,
and
there
is
a
kind
of
confession
in
your
looks
which
your
modesties
have
not
craft
enough
to
color
.
I
know
the
good
king
and
queen
have
sent
for
you
.
To
what
end
,
my
lord
?
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
can
charge
you
withal
:
be
even
and
direct
with
me
whether
you
were
sent
for
or
no
.
,
to
Guildenstern
What
say
you
?
,
aside
Nay
,
then
,
I
have
an
eye
of
you
.
—
If
you
love
me
,
hold
not
off
.
My
lord
,
we
were
sent
for
.
I
will
tell
you
why
;
so
shall
my
anticipation
prevent
your
discovery
,
and
your
secrecy
to
the
King
and
Queen
molt
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
earth
,
seems
to
me
a
sterile
promontory
;
this
most
excellent
canopy
,
the
air
,
look
you
,
this
brave
o’erhanging
firmament
,
this
majestical
roof
,
fretted
with
golden
fire
—
why
,
it
appeareth
nothing
to
me
but
a
foul
and
pestilent
congregation
of
vapors
.
What
a
piece
of
work
is
a
man
,
how
noble
in
reason
,
how
infinite
in
faculties
,
in
form
and
moving
ACT 2. SC. 2
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
women
neither
,
though
by
your
smiling
you
seem
to
say
so
.
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
coming
to
offer
you
service
.
He
that
plays
the
king
shall
be
welcome
—
his
Majesty
shall
have
tribute
on
me
.
The
adventurous
knight
shall
use
his
foil
and
target
,
the
lover
shall
not
sigh
gratis
,
the
humorous
man
shall
end
his
part
in
peace
,
the
clown
shall
make
those
laugh
whose
lungs
are
tickle
o’
th’
sear
,
and
the
lady
shall
say
her
mind
freely
,
or
the
blank
verse
shall
halt
for
’t
.
What
players
are
they
?
Even
those
you
were
wont
to
take
such
delight
in
,
the
tragedians
of
the
city
.
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
late
innovation
.
Do
they
hold
the
same
estimation
they
did
when
I
was
in
the
city
?
Are
they
so
followed
?
No
,
indeed
are
they
not
.
How
comes
it
?
Do
they
grow
rusty
?
Nay
,
their
endeavor
keeps
in
the
wonted
pace
.
But
there
is
,
sir
,
an
aerie
of
children
,
little
eyases
,
that
cry
out
on
the
top
of
question
and
are
most
tyrannically
clapped
for
’t
.
These
are
now
the
ACT 2. SC. 2
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
exclaim
against
their
own
succession
?
Faith
,
there
has
been
much
to-do
on
both
sides
,
and
the
nation
holds
it
no
sin
to
tar
them
to
controversy
.
There
was
for
a
while
no
money
bid
for
argument
unless
the
poet
and
the
player
went
to
cuffs
in
the
question
.
Is
’t
possible
?
O
,
there
has
been
much
throwing
about
of
brains
.
Do
the
boys
carry
it
away
?
Ay
,
that
they
do
,
my
lord
—
Hercules
and
his
load
too
.
It
is
not
very
strange
;
for
my
uncle
is
King
of
Denmark
,
and
those
that
would
make
mouths
at
him
while
my
father
lived
give
twenty
,
forty
,
fifty
,
a
hundred
ducats
apiece
for
his
picture
in
little
.
’Sblood
,
there
is
something
in
this
more
than
natural
,
if
philosophy
could
find
it
out
.
A
flourish
for
the
Players
.
There
are
the
players
.
Gentlemen
,
you
are
welcome
to
Elsinore
.
Your
hands
,
come
then
.
Th’
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
outwards
,
should
more
appear
like
entertainment
than
yours
.
You
are
welcome
.
But
my
uncle-father
and
aunt-mother
are
deceived
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
In
what
,
my
dear
lord
?
I
am
but
mad
north-north-west
.
When
the
wind
is
southerly
,
I
know
a
hawk
from
a
handsaw
.
Enter
Polonius
.
Well
be
with
you
,
gentlemen
.
Hark
you
,
Guildenstern
,
and
you
too
—
at
each
ear
a
hearer
!
That
great
baby
you
see
there
is
not
yet
out
of
his
swaddling
clouts
.
Haply
he
is
the
second
time
come
to
them
,
for
they
say
an
old
man
is
twice
a
child
.
I
will
prophesy
he
comes
to
tell
me
of
the
players
;
mark
it
.
—
You
say
right
,
sir
,
a
Monday
morning
,
’twas
then
indeed
.
My
lord
,
I
have
news
to
tell
you
.
My
lord
,
I
have
news
to
tell
you
:
when
Roscius
was
an
actor
in
Rome
—
The
actors
are
come
hither
,
my
lord
.
Buzz
,
buzz
.
Upon
my
honor
—
Then
came
each
actor
on
his
ass
.
The
best
actors
in
the
world
,
either
for
tragedy
,
comedy
,
history
,
pastoral
,
pastoral-comical
,
historical-pastoral
,
tragical-historical
,
tragical-comical-historical-pastoral
,
scene
individable
,
or
poem
unlimited
.
Seneca
cannot
be
too
heavy
,
nor
Plautus
too
light
.
For
the
law
of
writ
and
the
liberty
,
these
are
the
only
men
.
O
Jephthah
,
judge
of
Israel
,
what
a
treasure
hadst
thou
!
What
a
treasure
had
he
,
my
lord
?
Why
,
One
fair
daughter
,
and
no
more
,
The
which
he
lovèd
passing
well
.
,
aside
Still
on
my
daughter
.
Am
I
not
i’
th’
right
,
old
Jephthah
?
ACT 2. SC. 2
If
you
call
me
Jephthah
,
my
lord
:
I
have
a
daughter
that
I
love
passing
well
.
Nay
,
that
follows
not
.
What
follows
then
,
my
lord
?
Why
,
As
by
lot
,
God
wot
and
then
,
you
know
,
It
came
to
pass
,
as
most
like
it
was
—
the
first
row
of
the
pious
chanson
will
show
you
more
,
for
look
where
my
abridgment
comes
.
Enter
the
Players
.
You
are
welcome
,
masters
;
welcome
all
.
—
I
am
glad
to
see
thee
well
.
—
Welcome
,
good
friends
.
—
O
my
old
friend
!
Why
,
thy
face
is
valanced
since
I
saw
thee
last
.
Com’st
thou
to
beard
me
in
Denmark
?
—
What
,
my
young
lady
and
mistress
!
By
’r
Lady
,
your
Ladyship
ladyship
is
nearer
to
heaven
than
when
I
saw
you
last
,
by
the
altitude
of
a
chopine
.
Pray
God
your
voice
,
like
a
piece
of
uncurrent
gold
,
be
not
cracked
within
the
ring
.
Masters
,
you
are
all
welcome
.
We’ll
e’en
to
’t
like
French
falconers
,
fly
at
anything
we
see
.
We’ll
have
a
speech
straight
.
Come
,
give
us
a
taste
of
your
quality
.
Come
,
a
passionate
speech
.
What
speech
,
my
good
lord
?
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
caviary
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
savory
,
nor
no
matter
in
the
phrase
that
might
indict
the
author
of
affection
affectation
,
but
called
it
an
honest
ACT 2. SC. 2
method
,
as
wholesome
as
sweet
and
,
by
very
much
,
more
handsome
than
fine
.
One
speech
in
’t
I
chiefly
loved
.
’Twas
Aeneas’
tale
to
Dido
,
and
thereabout
of
it
especially
when
he
speaks
of
Priam’s
slaughter
.
If
it
live
in
your
memory
,
begin
at
this
line
—
let
me
see
,
let
me
see
:
The
rugged
Pyrrhus
,
like
th’
Hyrcanian
beast
—
’tis
not
so
;
it
begins
with
Pyrrhus
:
The
rugged
Pyrrhus
,
he
whose
sable
arms
,
Black
as
his
purpose
,
did
the
night
resemble
When
he
lay
couchèd
in
th’
ominous
horse
,
Hath
now
this
dread
and
black
complexion
smeared
With
heraldry
more
dismal
.
Head
to
foot
,
Now
is
he
total
gules
,
horridly
tricked
With
blood
of
fathers
,
mothers
,
daughters
,
sons
,
Baked
and
impasted
with
the
parching
streets
,
That
lend
a
tyrannous
and
a
damnèd
light
To
their
lord’s
murder
.
Roasted
in
wrath
and
fire
,
And
thus
o’ersizèd
with
coagulate
gore
,
With
eyes
like
carbuncles
,
the
hellish
Pyrrhus
Old
grandsire
Priam
seeks
.
So
,
proceed
you
.
’Fore
God
,
my
lord
,
well
spoken
,
with
good
accent
and
good
discretion
.
Anon
he
finds
him
Striking
too
short
at
Greeks
.
His
antique
sword
,
Rebellious
to
his
arm
,
lies
where
it
falls
,
Repugnant
to
command
.
Unequal
matched
,
Pyrrhus
at
Priam
drives
,
in
rage
strikes
wide
;
But
with
the
whiff
and
wind
of
his
fell
sword
Th’
unnervèd
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
,
Which
was
declining
on
the
milky
head
Of
reverend
Priam
,
seemed
i’
th’
air
to
stick
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
So
as
a
painted
tyrant
Pyrrhus
stood
And
,
like
a
neutral
to
his
will
and
matter
,
Did
nothing
.
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
,
Arousèd
vengeance
sets
him
new
a-work
,
And
never
did
the
Cyclops’
hammers
fall
On
Mars’s
armor
,
forged
for
proof
eterne
,
With
less
remorse
than
Pyrrhus’
bleeding
sword
Now
falls
on
Priam
.
Out
,
out
,
thou
strumpet
Fortune
!
All
you
gods
In
general
synod
take
away
her
power
,
Break
all
the
spokes
and
fellies
from
her
wheel
,
And
bowl
the
round
nave
down
the
hill
of
heaven
As
low
as
to
the
fiends
!
This
is
too
long
.
It
shall
to
the
barber’s
with
your
beard
.
—
Prithee
say
on
.
He’s
for
a
jig
or
a
tale
of
bawdry
,
or
he
sleeps
.
Say
on
;
come
to
Hecuba
.
But
who
,
ah
woe
,
had
seen
the
moblèd
queen
—
The
moblèd
queen
?
That’s
good
.
Moblèd
queen
is
good
.
Run
barefoot
up
and
down
,
threat’ning
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
o’erteemèd
loins
A
blanket
,
in
the
alarm
of
fear
caught
up
—
Who
this
had
seen
,
with
tongue
in
venom
steeped
,
’Gainst
Fortune’s
state
would
treason
have
pronounced
.
But
if
the
gods
themselves
did
see
her
then
ACT 2. SC. 2
When
she
saw
Pyrrhus
make
malicious
sport
In
mincing
with
his
sword
her
husband’s
limbs
,
The
instant
burst
of
clamor
that
she
made
(
Unless
things
mortal
move
them
not
at
all
)
Would
have
made
milch
the
burning
eyes
of
heaven
And
passion
in
the
gods
.
Look
whe’er
he
has
not
turned
his
color
and
has
tears
in
’s
eyes
.
Prithee
,
no
more
.
’Tis
well
.
I’ll
have
thee
speak
out
the
rest
of
this
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
.
God’s
bodykins
,
man
,
much
better
!
Use
every
man
after
his
desert
and
who
shall
’scape
whipping
?
Use
them
after
your
own
honor
and
dignity
.
The
less
they
deserve
,
the
more
merit
is
in
your
bounty
.
Take
them
in
.
Come
,
sirs
.
Follow
him
,
friends
.
We’ll
hear
a
play
tomorrow
.
As
Polonius
and
Players
exit
,
Hamlet
speaks
to
the
First
Player
.
Dost
thou
hear
me
,
old
friend
?
Can
you
play
The
Murder
of
Gonzago
?
Ay
,
my
lord
.
We’ll
ha
’t
tomorrow
night
.
You
could
,
for
a
need
,
study
a
speech
of
some
dozen
or
sixteen
lines
,
which
I
would
set
down
and
insert
in
’t
,
could
you
not
?
Ay
,
my
lord
.
Very
well
.
Follow
that
lord
—
and
look
you
mock
him
not
.
First
Player
exits
.
My
good
friends
,
I’ll
leave
you
till
night
.
You
are
welcome
to
Elsinore
.
Good
my
lord
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
Ay
,
so
,
good-bye
to
you
.
Rosencrantz
and
Guildenstern
exit
.
Now
I
am
alone
.
O
,
what
a
rogue
and
peasant
slave
am
I
!
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
wanned
,
Tears
in
his
eyes
,
distraction
in
his
aspect
,
A
broken
voice
,
and
his
whole
function
suiting
With
forms
to
his
conceit
—
and
all
for
nothing
!
For
Hecuba
!
What’s
Hecuba
to
him
,
or
he
to
Hecuba
,
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
,
Make
mad
the
guilty
and
appall
the
free
,
Confound
the
ignorant
and
amaze
indeed
The
very
faculties
of
eyes
and
ears
.
Yet
I
,
A
dull
and
muddy-mettled
rascal
,
peak
Like
John-a-dreams
,
unpregnant
of
my
cause
,
And
can
say
nothing
—
no
,
not
for
a
king
Upon
whose
property
and
most
dear
life
A
damned
defeat
was
made
.
Am
I
a
coward
?
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’
th’
throat
As
deep
as
to
the
lungs
?
Who
does
me
this
?
Ha
!
’Swounds
,
I
should
take
it
!
For
it
cannot
be
But
I
am
pigeon-livered
and
lack
gall
To
make
oppression
bitter
,
or
ere
this
I
should
have
fatted
all
the
region
kites
With
this
slave’s
offal
.
Bloody
,
bawdy
villain
!
Remorseless
,
treacherous
,
lecherous
,
kindless
villain
!
ACT 2. SC. 2
O
vengeance
!
Why
,
what
an
ass
am
I
!
This
is
most
brave
,
That
I
,
the
son
of
a
dear
father
murdered
,
Prompted
to
my
revenge
by
heaven
and
hell
,
Must
,
like
a
whore
,
unpack
my
heart
with
words
And
fall
a-cursing
like
a
very
drab
,
A
stallion
scullion
!
Fie
upon
’t
!
Foh
!
About
,
my
brains
!
—
Hum
,
I
have
heard
That
guilty
creatures
sitting
at
a
play
Have
,
by
the
very
cunning
of
the
scene
,
Been
struck
so
to
the
soul
that
presently
They
have
proclaimed
their
malefactions
;
.
For
murder
,
though
it
have
no
tongue
,
will
speak
With
most
miraculous
organ
.
I’ll
have
these
players
Play
something
like
the
murder
of
my
father
Before
mine
uncle
.
I’ll
observe
his
looks
;
I’ll
tent
him
to
the
quick
.
If
he
do
blench
,
I
know
my
course
.
The
spirit
that
I
have
seen
May
be
a
devil
,
and
the
devil
hath
power
T’
assume
a
pleasing
shape
;
yea
,
and
perhaps
,
Out
of
my
weakness
and
my
melancholy
,
As
he
is
very
potent
with
such
spirits
,
Abuses
me
to
damn
me
.
I’ll
have
grounds
More
relative
than
this
.
The
play’s
the
thing
Wherein
I’ll
catch
the
conscience
of
the
King
.
He
exits
.
ACT
3
Scene
1
Enter
King
,
Queen
,
Polonius
,
Ophelia
,
Rosencrantz
,
Guildenstern
,
and
Lords
.
And
can
you
by
no
drift
of
conference
Get
from
him
why
he
puts
on
this
confusion
,
Grating
so
harshly
all
his
days
of
quiet
With
turbulent
and
dangerous
lunacy
?
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
Of
his
true
state
.
Did
he
receive
you
well
?
Most
like
a
gentleman
.
But
with
much
forcing
of
his
disposition
.
Niggard
of
question
,
but
of
our
demands
Most
free
in
his
reply
.
Did
you
assay
him
to
any
pastime
?
Madam
,
it
so
fell
out
that
certain
players
ACT 3. SC. 1
We
o’erraught
on
the
way
.
Of
these
we
told
him
,
And
there
did
seem
in
him
a
kind
of
joy
To
hear
of
it
.
They
are
here
about
the
court
,
And
,
as
I
think
,
they
have
already
order
This
night
to
play
before
him
.
’Tis
most
true
,
And
he
beseeched
me
to
entreat
your
Majesties
To
hear
and
see
the
matter
.
With
all
my
heart
,
and
it
doth
much
content
me
To
hear
him
so
inclined
.
Good
gentlemen
,
give
him
a
further
edge
And
drive
his
purpose
into
these
delights
.
We
shall
,
my
lord
.
Rosencrantz
and
Guildenstern
and
Lords
exit
.
Sweet
Gertrude
,
leave
us
too
,
For
we
have
closely
sent
for
Hamlet
hither
,
That
he
,
as
’twere
by
accident
,
may
here
Affront
Ophelia
.
Her
father
and
myself
,
(
lawful
espials
,
)
Will
so
bestow
ourselves
that
,
seeing
unseen
,
We
may
of
their
encounter
frankly
judge
And
gather
by
him
,
as
he
is
behaved
,
If
’t
be
th’
affliction
of
his
love
or
no
That
thus
he
suffers
for
.
I
shall
obey
you
.
And
for
your
part
,
Ophelia
,
I
do
wish
That
your
good
beauties
be
the
happy
cause
Of
Hamlet’s
wildness
.
So
shall
I
hope
your
virtues
Will
bring
him
to
his
wonted
way
again
,
To
both
your
honors
.
Madam
,
I
wish
it
may
.
Queen
exits
.
Ophelia
,
walk
you
here
.
—
Gracious
,
so
please
you
,
ACT 3. SC. 1
We
will
bestow
ourselves
.
To
Ophelia
.
Read
on
this
book
,
That
show
of
such
an
exercise
may
color
Your
loneliness
.
—
We
are
oft
to
blame
in
this
(
’Tis
too
much
proved
)
,
that
with
devotion’s
visage
And
pious
action
we
do
sugar
o’er
The
devil
himself
.
,
aside
O
,
’tis
too
true
!
How
smart
a
lash
that
speech
doth
give
my
conscience
.
The
harlot’s
cheek
beautied
with
plast’ring
art
Is
not
more
ugly
to
the
thing
that
helps
it
Than
is
my
deed
to
my
most
painted
word
.
O
heavy
burden
!
I
hear
him
coming
.
Let’s
withdraw
,
my
lord
.
They
withdraw
.
Enter
Hamlet
.
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
—
No
more
—
and
by
a
sleep
to
say
we
end
The
heartache
and
the
thousand
natural
shocks
That
flesh
is
heir
to
—
’tis
a
consummation
Devoutly
to
be
wished
.
To
die
,
to
sleep
—
To
sleep
,
perchance
to
dream
.
Ay
,
there’s
the
rub
,
For
in
that
sleep
of
death
what
dreams
may
come
,
When
we
have
shuffled
off
this
mortal
coil
,
Must
give
us
pause
.
There’s
the
respect
That
makes
calamity
of
so
long
life
.
For
who
would
bear
the
whips
and
scorns
of
time
,
Th’
oppressor’s
wrong
,
the
proud
man’s
contumely
,
ACT 3. SC. 1
The
pangs
of
despised
love
,
the
law’s
delay
,
The
insolence
of
office
,
and
the
spurns
That
patient
merit
of
th’
unworthy
takes
,
When
he
himself
might
his
quietus
make
With
a
bare
bodkin
?
Who
would
fardels
bear
,
To
grunt
and
sweat
under
a
weary
life
,
But
that
the
dread
of
something
after
death
,
The
undiscovered
country
from
whose
bourn
No
traveler
returns
,
puzzles
the
will
And
makes
us
rather
bear
those
ills
we
have
Than
fly
to
others
that
we
know
not
of
?
Thus
conscience
does
make
cowards
of
us
all
,
And
thus
the
native
hue
of
resolution
Is
sicklied
o’er
with
the
pale
cast
of
thought
,
And
enterprises
of
great
pitch
and
moment
With
this
regard
their
currents
turn
awry
And
lose
the
name
of
action
.
—
Soft
you
now
,
The
fair
Ophelia
.
—
Nymph
,
in
thy
orisons
Be
all
my
sins
remembered
.
Good
my
lord
,
How
does
your
Honor
for
this
many
a
day
?
I
humbly
thank
you
,
well
.
My
lord
,
I
have
remembrances
of
yours
That
I
have
longèd
long
to
redeliver
.
I
pray
you
now
receive
them
.
No
,
not
I
.
I
never
gave
you
aught
.
My
honored
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
,
Take
these
again
,
for
to
the
noble
mind
Rich
gifts
wax
poor
when
givers
prove
unkind
.
There
,
my
lord
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
Ha
,
ha
,
are
you
honest
?
My
lord
?
Are
you
fair
?
What
means
your
Lordship
lordship
?
That
if
you
be
honest
and
fair
,
your
honesty
should
admit
no
discourse
to
your
beauty
.
Could
beauty
,
my
lord
,
have
better
commerce
than
with
honesty
?
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
it
.
I
loved
you
not
.
I
was
the
more
deceived
.
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
offenses
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
.
Where’s
your
father
?
At
home
,
my
lord
.
Let
the
doors
be
shut
upon
him
that
he
may
play
the
fool
nowhere
but
in
’s
own
house
.
Farewell
.
O
,
help
him
,
you
sweet
heavens
!
If
thou
dost
marry
,
I’ll
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
ACT 3. SC. 1
nunnery
,
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
,
and
quickly
too
.
Farewell
.
Heavenly
powers
,
restore
him
!
I
have
heard
of
your
paintings
too
,
well
enough
.
God
hath
given
you
one
face
,
and
you
make
yourselves
another
.
You
jig
and
amble
,
and
you
lisp
;
you
nickname
God’s
creatures
and
make
your
wantonness
your
ignorance
.
Go
to
,
I’ll
no
more
on
’t
.
It
hath
made
me
mad
.
I
say
we
will
have
no
more
marriage
.
Those
that
are
married
already
,
all
but
one
,
shall
live
.
The
rest
shall
keep
as
they
are
.
To
a
nunnery
,
go
.
He
exits
.
O
,
what
a
noble
mind
is
here
o’erthrown
!
The
courtier’s
,
soldier’s
,
scholar’s
,
eye
,
tongue
,
sword
,
Th’
expectancy
and
rose
of
the
fair
state
,
The
glass
of
fashion
and
the
mold
of
form
,
Th’
observed
of
all
observers
,
quite
,
quite
down
!
And
I
,
of
ladies
most
deject
and
wretched
,
That
sucked
the
honey
of
his
musicked
vows
,
Now
see
that
noble
and
most
sovereign
reason
,
Like
sweet
bells
jangled
,
out
of
time
and
harsh
;
That
unmatched
form
and
stature
of
blown
youth
Blasted
with
ecstasy
.
O
,
woe
is
me
T’
have
seen
what
I
have
seen
,
see
what
I
see
!
,
advancing
with
Polonius
Love
?
His
affections
do
not
that
way
tend
;
Nor
what
he
spake
,
though
it
lacked
form
a
little
,
Was
not
like
madness
.
There’s
something
in
his
soul
O’er
which
his
melancholy
sits
on
brood
,
And
I
do
doubt
the
hatch
and
the
disclose
Will
be
some
danger
;
which
for
to
prevent
,
I
have
in
quick
determination
ACT 3. SC. 2
Thus
set
it
down
:
he
shall
with
speed
to
England
For
the
demand
of
our
neglected
tribute
.
Haply
the
seas
,
and
countries
different
,
With
variable
objects
,
shall
expel
This
something-settled
matter
in
his
heart
,
Whereon
his
brains
still
beating
puts
him
thus
From
fashion
of
himself
.
What
think
you
on
’t
?
It
shall
do
well
.
But
yet
do
I
believe
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
,
But
,
if
you
hold
it
fit
,
after
the
play
Let
his
queen-mother
all
alone
entreat
him
To
show
his
grief
.
Let
her
be
round
with
him
;
And
I’ll
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
Your
wisdom
best
shall
think
.
It
shall
be
so
.
Madness
in
great
ones
must
not
unwatched
go
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
Hamlet
and
three
of
the
Players
.
Speak
the
speech
,
I
pray
you
,
as
I
pronounced
it
to
you
,
trippingly
on
the
tongue
;
but
if
you
mouth
it
,
as
many
of
our
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
,
whirlwind
of
your
passion
,
you
must
acquire
and
beget
a
temperance
that
may
give
it
smoothness
.
O
,
ACT 3. SC. 2
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
dumb
shows
and
noise
.
I
would
have
such
a
fellow
whipped
for
o’erdoing
Termagant
.
It
out-Herods
Herod
.
Pray
you
,
avoid
it
.
I
warrant
your
Honor
.
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
observance
,
that
you
o’erstep
not
the
modesty
of
nature
.
For
anything
so
o’erdone
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
makes
the
unskillful
laugh
,
cannot
but
make
the
judicious
grieve
,
the
censure
of
the
which
one
must
in
your
allowance
o’erweigh
a
whole
theater
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
th’
accent
of
Christians
nor
the
gait
of
Christian
,
pagan
,
nor
man
,
have
so
strutted
and
bellowed
that
I
have
thought
some
of
nature’s
journeymen
had
made
men
,
and
not
made
them
well
,
they
imitated
humanity
so
abominably
.
I
hope
we
have
reformed
that
indifferently
with
us
,
sir
.
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
meantime
some
necessary
ACT 3. SC. 2
question
of
the
play
be
then
to
be
considered
.
That’s
villainous
and
shows
a
most
pitiful
ambition
in
the
fool
that
uses
it
.
Go
make
you
ready
.
Players
exit
.
Enter
Polonius
,
Guildenstern
,
and
Rosencrantz
.
How
now
,
my
lord
,
will
the
King
hear
this
piece
of
work
?
And
the
Queen
too
,
and
that
presently
.
Bid
the
players
make
haste
.
Polonius
exits
.
Will
you
two
help
to
hasten
them
?
Ay
,
my
lord
.
They
exit
.
What
ho
,
Horatio
!
Enter
Horatio
.
Here
,
sweet
lord
,
at
your
service
.
Horatio
,
thou
art
e’en
as
just
a
man
As
e’er
my
conversation
coped
withal
.
O
,
my
dear
lord
—
Nay
,
do
not
think
I
flatter
,
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
flattered
?
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
sealed
thee
for
herself
.
For
thou
hast
been
As
one
in
suffering
all
that
suffers
nothing
,
A
man
that
Fortune’s
buffets
and
rewards
Hast
ta’en
with
equal
thanks
;
and
blessed
are
those
Whose
blood
and
judgment
are
so
well
commeddled
ACT 3. SC. 2
That
they
are
not
a
pipe
for
Fortune’s
finger
To
sound
what
stop
she
please
.
Give
me
that
man
That
is
not
passion’s
slave
,
and
I
will
wear
him
In
my
heart’s
core
,
ay
,
in
my
heart
of
heart
,
As
I
do
thee
.
—
Something
too
much
of
this
.
—
There
is
a
play
tonight
before
the
King
.
One
scene
of
it
comes
near
the
circumstance
Which
I
have
told
thee
of
my
father’s
death
.
I
prithee
,
when
thou
seest
that
act
afoot
,
Even
with
the
very
comment
of
thy
soul
Observe
my
uncle
.
If
his
occulted
guilt
Do
not
itself
unkennel
in
one
speech
,
It
is
a
damnèd
ghost
that
we
have
seen
,
And
my
imaginations
are
as
foul
As
Vulcan’s
stithy
.
Give
him
heedful
note
,
For
I
mine
eyes
will
rivet
to
his
face
,
And
,
after
,
we
will
both
our
judgments
join
In
censure
of
his
seeming
.
Well
,
my
lord
.
If
he
steal
aught
the
whilst
this
play
is
playing
And
’scape
detecting
,
I
will
pay
the
theft
.
Sound
a
flourish
.
They
are
coming
to
the
play
.
I
must
be
idle
.
Get
you
a
place
.
Enter
Trumpets
and
Kettle
Drums
.
Enter
King
,
Queen
,
Polonius
,
Ophelia
,
Rosencrantz
,
Guildenstern
,
and
other
Lords
attendant
with
the
King’s
guard
carrying
torches
.
How
fares
our
cousin
Hamlet
?
Excellent
,
i’
faith
,
of
the
chameleon’s
dish
.
I
eat
the
air
,
promise-crammed
.
You
cannot
feed
capons
so
.
I
have
nothing
with
this
answer
,
Hamlet
.
These
words
are
not
mine
.
No
,
nor
mine
now
.
To
Polonius
.
My
lord
,
you
played
once
i’
th’
university
,
you
say
?
ACT 3. SC. 2
That
did
I
,
my
lord
,
and
was
accounted
a
good
actor
.
What
did
you
enact
?
I
did
enact
Julius
Caesar
.
I
was
killed
i’
th’
Capitol
.
Brutus
killed
me
.
It
was
a
brute
part
of
him
to
kill
so
capital
a
calf
there
.
—
Be
the
players
ready
?
Ay
,
my
lord
.
They
stay
upon
your
patience
.
Come
hither
,
my
dear
Hamlet
,
sit
by
me
.
No
,
good
mother
.
Here’s
metal
more
attractive
.
Hamlet
takes
a
place
near
Ophelia
.
,
to
the
King
Oh
,
ho
!
Do
you
mark
that
?
Lady
,
shall
I
lie
in
your
lap
?
No
,
my
lord
.
I
mean
,
my
head
upon
your
lap
?
Ay
,
my
lord
.
Do
you
think
I
meant
country
matters
?
I
think
nothing
,
my
lord
.
That’s
a
fair
thought
to
lie
between
maids’
legs
.
What
is
,
my
lord
?
Nothing
.
You
are
merry
,
my
lord
.
Who
,
I
?
Ay
,
my
lord
.
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
’s
two
hours
.
Nay
,
’tis
twice
two
months
,
my
lord
.
So
long
?
Nay
,
then
,
let
the
devil
wear
black
,
for
I’ll
have
a
suit
of
sables
.
O
heavens
,
die
two
months
ago
,
and
not
forgotten
yet
?
Then
there’s
hope
a
great
man’s
memory
may
outlive
his
life
half
a
year
.
But
,
by
’r
Lady
,
he
must
build
churches
,
then
,
ACT 3. SC. 2
or
else
shall
he
suffer
not
thinking
on
,
with
the
hobby-horse
,
whose
epitaph
is
For
oh
,
for
oh
,
the
hobby-horse
is
forgot
.
The
trumpets
sounds
.
Dumb
show
follows
.
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
.
He
lies
him
down
upon
a
bank
of
flowers
.
She
,
seeing
him
asleep
,
leaves
him
.
Anon
comes
in
another
man
,
takes
off
his
crown
,
kisses
it
,
pours
poison
in
the
sleeper’s
ears
,
and
leaves
him
.
The
Queen
returns
,
finds
the
King
dead
,
makes
passionate
action
.
The
poisoner
with
some
three
or
four
come
in
again
,
seem
to
condole
with
her
.
The
dead
body
is
carried
away
.
The
poisoner
woos
the
Queen
with
gifts
.
She
seems
harsh
awhile
but
in
the
end
accepts
his
love
.
Players
exit
.
What
means
this
,
my
lord
?
Marry
,
this
is
miching
mallecho
.
It
means
mischief
.
Belike
this
show
imports
the
argument
of
the
play
.
Enter
Prologue
.
We
shall
know
by
this
fellow
.
The
players
cannot
keep
counsel
;
they’ll
tell
all
.
Will
he
tell
us
what
this
show
meant
?
Ay
,
or
any
show
that
you
will
show
him
.
Be
not
you
ashamed
to
show
,
he’ll
not
shame
to
tell
you
what
it
means
.
You
are
naught
,
you
are
naught
.
I’ll
mark
the
play
.
For
us
and
for
our
tragedy
,
Here
stooping
to
your
clemency
,
We
beg
your
hearing
patiently
.
He
exits
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Is
this
a
prologue
or
the
posy
of
a
ring
?
’Tis
brief
,
my
lord
.
As
woman’s
love
.
Enter
the
Player
King
and
Queen
.
Full
thirty
times
hath
Phoebus’
cart
gone
round
Neptune’s
salt
wash
and
Tellus’
orbèd
ground
,
And
thirty
dozen
moons
with
borrowed
sheen
About
the
world
have
times
twelve
thirties
been
Since
love
our
hearts
and
Hymen
did
our
hands
Unite
commutual
in
most
sacred
bands
.
So
many
journeys
may
the
sun
and
moon
Make
us
again
count
o’er
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
women
fear
too
much
,
even
as
they
love
,
And
women’s
fear
and
love
hold
quantity
,
In
neither
aught
,
or
in
extremity
.
Now
what
my
love
is
,
proof
hath
made
you
know
,
And
,
as
my
love
is
sized
,
my
fear
is
so
:
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
shall
live
in
this
fair
world
behind
,
Honored
,
beloved
;
and
haply
one
as
kind
For
husband
shalt
thou
—
O
,
confound
the
rest
!
Such
love
must
needs
be
treason
in
my
breast
.
In
second
husband
let
me
be
accurst
.
None
wed
the
second
but
who
killed
the
first
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
That’s
wormwood
!
The
instances
that
second
marriage
move
Are
base
respects
of
thrift
,
but
none
of
love
.
A
second
time
I
kill
my
husband
dead
When
second
husband
kisses
me
in
bed
.
I
do
believe
you
think
what
now
you
speak
,
But
what
we
do
determine
oft
we
break
.
Purpose
is
but
the
slave
to
memory
,
Of
violent
birth
,
but
poor
validity
,
Which
now
,
the
fruit
unripe
,
sticks
on
the
tree
But
fall
unshaken
when
they
mellow
be
.
Most
necessary
’tis
that
we
forget
To
pay
ourselves
what
to
ourselves
is
debt
.
What
to
ourselves
in
passion
we
propose
,
The
passion
ending
,
doth
the
purpose
lose
.
The
violence
of
either
grief
or
joy
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
favorite
flies
;
The
poor
,
advanced
,
makes
friends
of
enemies
.
And
hitherto
doth
love
on
fortune
tend
,
For
who
not
needs
shall
never
lack
a
friend
,
And
who
in
want
a
hollow
friend
doth
try
Directly
seasons
him
his
enemy
.
But
,
orderly
to
end
where
I
begun
:
Our
wills
and
fates
do
so
contrary
run
That
our
devices
still
are
overthrown
;
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
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Nor
Earth
earth
to
me
give
food
,
nor
heaven
light
,
Sport
and
repose
lock
from
me
day
and
night
,
To
desperation
turn
my
trust
and
hope
,
An
anchor’s
cheer
in
prison
be
my
scope
.
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
,
If
,
once
a
widow
,
ever
I
be
wife
.
If
she
should
break
it
now
!
’Tis
deeply
sworn
.
Sweet
,
leave
me
here
awhile
.
My
spirits
grow
dull
,
and
fain
I
would
beguile
The
tedious
day
with
sleep
.
Sleeps
.
Sleep
rock
thy
brain
,
And
never
come
mischance
between
us
twain
.
Player
Queen
exits
.
Madam
,
how
like
you
this
play
?
The
lady
doth
protest
too
much
,
methinks
.
O
,
but
she’ll
keep
her
word
.
Have
you
heard
the
argument
?
Is
there
no
offense
in
’t
?
No
,
no
,
they
do
but
jest
,
poison
in
jest
.
No
offense
i’
th’
world
.
What
do
you
call
the
play
?
The
Mousetrap
.
Marry
,
how
?
Tropically
.
This
play
is
the
image
of
a
murder
done
in
Vienna
.
Gonzago
is
the
duke’s
name
,
his
wife
Baptista
.
You
shall
see
anon
.
’Tis
a
knavish
piece
of
work
,
but
what
of
that
?
Your
Majesty
and
we
that
have
free
souls
,
it
touches
us
not
.
Let
the
galled
jade
wince
;
our
withers
are
unwrung
.
Enter
Lucianus
.
This
is
one
Lucianus
,
nephew
to
the
king
.
You
are
as
good
as
a
chorus
,
my
lord
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
I
could
interpret
between
you
and
your
love
,
if
I
could
see
the
puppets
dallying
.
You
are
keen
,
my
lord
,
you
are
keen
.
It
would
cost
you
a
groaning
to
take
off
mine
edge
.
Still
better
and
worse
.
So
you
mis-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
Hecate’s
ban
thrice
blasted
,
thrice
infected
,
Thy
natural
magic
and
dire
property
On
wholesome
life
usurp
immediately
.
Pours
the
poison
in
his
ears
.
He
poisons
him
i’
th’
garden
for
his
estate
.
His
name’s
Gonzago
.
The
story
is
extant
and
written
in
very
choice
Italian
.
You
shall
see
anon
how
the
murderer
gets
the
love
of
Gonzago’s
wife
.
Claudius
rises
.
The
King
rises
.
What
,
frighted
with
false
fire
?
How
fares
my
lord
?
Give
o’er
the
play
.
Give
me
some
light
.
Away
!
Lights
,
lights
,
lights
!
All
but
Hamlet
and
Horatio
exit
.
Why
,
let
the
strucken
deer
go
weep
,
The
hart
ungallèd
play
.
For
some
must
watch
,
while
some
must
sleep
:
Thus
runs
the
world
away
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
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
fellowship
in
a
cry
of
players
?
Half
a
share
.
A
whole
one
,
I
.
For
thou
dost
know
,
O
Damon
dear
,
This
realm
dismantled
was
Of
Jove
himself
,
and
now
reigns
here
A
very
very
—
pajock
.
You
might
have
rhymed
.
O
good
Horatio
,
I’ll
take
the
ghost’s
word
for
a
thousand
pound
.
Didst
perceive
?
Very
well
,
my
lord
.
Upon
the
talk
of
the
poisoning
?
I
did
very
well
note
him
.
Ah
ha
!
Come
,
some
music
!
Come
,
the
recorders
!
For
if
the
King
like
not
the
comedy
,
Why
,
then
,
belike
he
likes
it
not
,
perdy
.
Come
,
some
music
!
Enter
Rosencrantz
and
Guildenstern
.
Good
my
lord
,
vouchsafe
me
a
word
with
you
.
Sir
,
a
whole
history
.
The
King
,
sir
Sir
—
Ay
,
sir
,
what
of
him
?
Is
in
his
retirement
marvelous
distempered
.
With
drink
,
sir
?
No
,
my
lord
,
with
choler
.
Your
wisdom
should
show
itself
more
richer
to
signify
this
to
the
doctor
,
for
for
me
to
put
him
to
his
purgation
would
perhaps
plunge
him
into
more
choler
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Good
my
lord
,
put
your
discourse
into
some
frame
and
start
not
so
wildly
from
my
affair
.
I
am
tame
,
sir
.
Pronounce
.
The
Queen
your
mother
,
in
most
great
affliction
of
spirit
,
hath
sent
me
to
you
.
You
are
welcome
.
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
mother’s
commandment
.
If
not
,
your
pardon
and
my
return
shall
be
the
end
of
my
business
.
Sir
,
I
cannot
.
What
,
my
lord
?
Make
you
a
wholesome
answer
.
My
wit’s
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
into
amazement
and
admiration
.
O
wonderful
son
that
can
so
’stonish
a
mother
!
But
is
there
no
sequel
at
the
heels
of
this
mother’s
admiration
?
Impart
.
She
desires
to
speak
with
you
in
her
closet
ere
you
go
to
bed
.
We
shall
obey
,
were
she
ten
times
our
mother
.
Have
you
any
further
trade
with
us
?
My
lord
,
you
once
did
love
me
.
And
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
you
deny
your
griefs
to
your
friend
.
Sir
,
I
lack
advancement
.
How
can
that
be
,
when
you
have
the
voice
of
the
King
himself
for
your
succession
in
Denmark
?
ACT 3. SC. 2
Ay
,
sir
,
but
While
the
grass
grows
—
the
proverb
is
something
musty
.
Enter
the
Players
with
recorders
.
O
,
the
recorders
!
Let
me
see
one
.
He
takes
a
recorder
and
turns
to
Guildenstern
.
To
withdraw
with
you
:
why
do
you
go
about
to
recover
the
wind
of
me
,
as
if
you
would
drive
me
into
a
toil
?
O
,
my
lord
,
if
my
duty
be
too
bold
,
my
love
is
too
unmannerly
.
I
do
not
well
understand
that
.
Will
you
play
upon
this
pipe
?
My
lord
,
I
cannot
.
I
pray
you
.
Believe
me
,
I
cannot
.
I
do
beseech
you
.
I
know
no
touch
of
it
,
my
lord
.
It
is
as
easy
as
lying
.
Govern
these
ventages
with
your
fingers
and
thumb
,
give
it
breath
with
your
mouth
,
and
it
will
discourse
most
eloquent
music
.
Look
you
,
these
are
the
stops
.
But
these
cannot
I
command
to
any
utt’rance
of
harmony
.
I
have
not
the
skill
.
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
,
you
cannot
play
upon
me
.
Enter
Polonius
.
God
bless
you
,
sir
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
My
lord
,
the
Queen
would
speak
with
you
,
and
presently
.
Do
you
see
yonder
cloud
that’s
almost
in
shape
of
a
camel
?
By
th’
Mass
,
and
’tis
like
a
camel
indeed
.
Methinks
it
is
like
a
weasel
.
It
is
backed
like
a
weasel
.
Or
like
a
whale
.
Very
like
a
whale
.
Then
I
will
come
to
my
mother
by
and
by
.
Aside
.
They
fool
me
to
the
top
of
my
bent
.
—
I
will
come
by
and
by
.
I
will
say
so
.
By
and
by
is
easily
said
.
Leave
me
,
friends
.
All
but
Hamlet
exit
.
’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
And
do
such
bitter
business
as
the
day
Would
quake
to
look
on
.
Soft
,
now
to
my
mother
.
O
heart
,
lose
not
thy
nature
;
let
not
ever
The
soul
of
Nero
enter
this
firm
bosom
.
Let
me
be
cruel
,
not
unnatural
.
I
will
speak
daggers
to
her
,
but
use
none
.
My
tongue
and
soul
in
this
be
hypocrites
:
How
in
my
words
somever
she
be
shent
,
To
give
them
seals
never
,
my
soul
,
consent
.
He
exits
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
Scene
3
Enter
King
,
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
,
And
he
to
England
shall
along
with
you
.
The
terms
of
our
estate
may
not
endure
Hazard
so
near
’s
as
doth
hourly
grow
Out
of
his
brows
.
We
will
ourselves
provide
.
Most
holy
and
religious
fear
it
is
To
keep
those
many
many
bodies
safe
That
live
and
feed
upon
your
Majesty
.
The
single
and
peculiar
life
is
bound
With
all
the
strength
and
armor
of
the
mind
To
keep
itself
from
noyance
,
but
much
more
That
spirit
upon
whose
weal
depends
and
rests
The
lives
of
many
.
The
cess
of
majesty
Dies
not
alone
,
but
like
a
gulf
doth
draw
What’s
near
it
with
it
;
or
it
is
a
massy
wheel
Fixed
on
the
summit
of
the
highest
mount
,
To
whose
huge
spokes
ten
thousand
lesser
things
Are
mortised
and
adjoined
,
which
,
when
it
falls
,
Each
small
annexment
,
petty
consequence
,
Attends
the
boist’rous
ruin
.
Never
alone
Did
the
king
sigh
,
but
with
a
general
groan
.
Arm
you
,
I
pray
you
,
to
this
speedy
voyage
,
For
we
will
fetters
put
about
this
fear
,
Which
now
goes
too
free-footed
.
We
will
haste
us
.
Rosencrantz
and
Guildenstern
exit
.
Enter
Polonius
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
My
lord
,
he’s
going
to
his
mother’s
closet
.
Behind
the
arras
I’ll
convey
myself
To
hear
the
process
.
I’ll
warrant
she’ll
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
o’erhear
The
speech
of
vantage
.
Fare
you
well
,
my
liege
.
I’ll
call
upon
you
ere
you
go
to
bed
And
tell
you
what
I
know
.
Thanks
,
dear
my
lord
.
Polonius
exits
.
O
,
my
offense
is
rank
,
it
smells
to
heaven
;
It
hath
the
primal
eldest
curse
upon
’t
,
A
brother’s
murder
.
Pray
can
I
not
,
Though
inclination
be
as
sharp
as
will
.
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
cursèd
hand
Were
thicker
than
itself
with
brother’s
blood
?
Is
there
not
rain
enough
in
the
sweet
heavens
To
wash
it
white
as
snow
?
Whereto
serves
mercy
But
to
confront
the
visage
of
offense
?
And
what’s
in
prayer
but
this
twofold
force
,
To
be
forestallèd
ere
we
come
to
fall
,
Or
pardoned
being
down
?
Then
I’ll
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
possessed
Of
those
effects
for
which
I
did
the
murder
:
My
crown
,
mine
own
ambition
,
and
my
queen
.
May
one
be
pardoned
and
retain
th’
offense
?
In
the
corrupted
currents
of
this
world
,
Offense’s
gilded
hand
may
shove
by
justice
,
ACT 3. SC. 3
And
oft
’tis
seen
the
wicked
prize
itself
Buys
out
the
law
.
But
’tis
not
so
above
:
There
is
no
shuffling
;
there
the
action
lies
In
his
true
nature
,
and
we
ourselves
compelled
,
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
cannot
repent
?
O
wretched
state
!
O
bosom
black
as
death
!
O
limèd
soul
,
that
,
struggling
to
be
free
,
Art
more
engaged
!
Help
,
angels
!
Make
assay
.
Bow
,
stubborn
knees
,
and
heart
with
strings
of
steel
Be
soft
as
sinews
of
the
newborn
babe
.
All
may
be
well
.
He
kneels
.
Enter
Hamlet
.
Now
might
I
do
it
pat
,
now
he
is
a-praying
,
And
now
I’ll
do
’t
.
He
draws
his
sword
.
And
so
he
goes
to
heaven
,
And
so
am
I
revenged
.
That
would
be
scanned
:
A
villain
kills
my
father
,
and
for
that
,
I
,
his
sole
son
,
do
this
same
villain
send
To
heaven
.
Why
,
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
To
take
him
in
the
purging
of
his
soul
,
When
he
is
fit
and
seasoned
for
his
passage
?
No
.
Up
sword
,
and
know
thou
a
more
horrid
hent
.
He
sheathes
his
sword
.
When
he
is
drunk
asleep
,
or
in
his
rage
,
ACT 3. SC. 4
Or
in
th’
incestuous
pleasure
of
his
bed
,
At
game
,
a-swearing
,
or
about
some
act
That
has
no
relish
of
salvation
in
’t
—
Then
trip
him
,
that
his
heels
may
kick
at
heaven
,
And
that
his
soul
may
be
as
damned
and
black
As
hell
,
whereto
it
goes
.
My
mother
stays
.
This
physic
but
prolongs
thy
sickly
days
.
Hamlet
exits
.
,
rising
My
words
fly
up
,
my
thoughts
remain
below
;
Words
without
thoughts
never
to
heaven
go
.
He
exits
.
Scene
4
Enter
Queen
and
Polonius
.
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
screened
and
stood
between
Much
heat
and
him
.
I’ll
silence
me
even
here
.
Pray
you
,
be
round
with
him
.
,
within
Mother
,
mother
,
mother
!
I’ll
warrant
you
.
Fear
me
not
.
Withdraw
,
I
hear
him
coming
.
Polonius
hides
behind
the
arras
.
Enter
Hamlet
.
Now
,
mother
,
what’s
the
matter
?
Hamlet
,
thou
hast
thy
father
much
offended
.
Mother
,
you
have
my
father
much
offended
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
Come
,
come
,
you
answer
with
an
idle
tongue
.
Go
,
go
,
you
question
with
a
wicked
tongue
.
Why
,
how
now
,
Hamlet
?
What’s
the
matter
now
?
Have
you
forgot
me
?
No
,
by
the
rood
,
not
so
.
You
are
the
Queen
,
your
husband’s
brother’s
wife
,
And
(
would
it
were
not
so
)
you
are
my
mother
.
Nay
,
then
I’ll
set
those
to
you
that
can
speak
.
Come
,
come
,
and
sit
you
down
;
you
shall
not
budge
.
You
go
not
till
I
set
you
up
a
glass
Where
you
may
see
the
inmost
part
of
you
.
What
wilt
thou
do
?
Thou
wilt
not
murder
me
?
Help
,
ho
!
,
behind
the
arras
What
ho
!
Help
!
How
now
,
a
rat
?
Dead
for
a
ducat
,
dead
.
He
kills
Polonius
by
thrusting
a
rapier
through
the
arras
.
,
behind
the
arras
O
,
I
am
slain
!
O
me
,
what
hast
thou
done
?
Nay
,
I
know
not
.
Is
it
the
King
?
O
,
what
a
rash
and
bloody
deed
is
this
!
A
bloody
deed
—
almost
as
bad
,
good
mother
,
As
kill
a
king
and
marry
with
his
brother
.
As
kill
a
king
?
ACT 3. SC. 4
Ay
,
lady
,
it
was
my
word
.
He
pulls
Polonius’
body
from
behind
the
arras
.
Thou
wretched
,
rash
,
intruding
fool
,
farewell
.
I
took
thee
for
thy
better
.
Take
thy
fortune
.
Thou
find’st
to
be
too
busy
is
some
danger
.
To
Queen
.
Leave
wringing
of
your
hands
.
Peace
,
sit
you
down
,
And
let
me
wring
your
heart
;
for
so
I
shall
If
it
be
made
of
penetrable
stuff
,
If
damnèd
custom
have
not
brazed
it
so
That
it
be
proof
and
bulwark
against
sense
.
What
have
I
done
,
that
thou
dar’st
wag
thy
tongue
In
noise
so
rude
against
me
?
Such
an
act
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
As
from
the
body
of
contraction
plucks
The
very
soul
,
and
sweet
religion
makes
A
rhapsody
of
words
!
Heaven’s
face
does
glow
O’er
this
solidity
and
compound
mass
With
heated
visage
,
as
against
the
doom
,
Is
thought-sick
at
the
act
.
Ay
me
,
what
act
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
,
Hyperion’s
curls
,
the
front
of
Jove
himself
,
An
eye
like
Mars’
to
threaten
and
command
,
A
station
like
the
herald
Mercury
New-lighted
on
a
heaven
-kissing
hill
,
ACT 3. SC. 4
A
combination
and
a
form
indeed
Where
every
god
did
seem
to
set
his
seal
To
give
the
world
assurance
of
a
man
.
This
was
your
husband
.
Look
you
now
what
follows
.
Here
is
your
husband
,
like
a
mildewed
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
heyday
in
the
blood
is
tame
,
it’s
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
Is
apoplexed
;
for
madness
would
not
err
,
Nor
sense
to
ecstasy
was
ne’er
so
thralled
,
But
it
reserved
some
quantity
of
choice
To
serve
in
such
a
difference
.
What
devil
was
’t
That
thus
hath
cozened
you
at
hoodman-blind
?
Eyes
without
feeling
,
feeling
without
sight
,
Ears
without
hands
or
eyes
,
smelling
sans
all
,
Or
but
a
sickly
part
of
one
true
sense
Could
not
so
mope
.
O
shame
,
where
is
thy
blush
?
Rebellious
hell
,
If
thou
canst
mutine
in
a
matron’s
bones
,
To
flaming
youth
let
virtue
be
as
wax
And
melt
in
her
own
fire
.
Proclaim
no
shame
When
the
compulsive
ardor
gives
the
charge
,
Since
frost
itself
as
actively
doth
burn
,
And
reason
panders
will
.
O
Hamlet
,
speak
no
more
!
Thou
turn’st
my
eyes
into
my
very
soul
,
And
there
I
see
such
black
and
grainèd
spots
As
will
not
leave
their
tinct
.
Nay
,
but
to
live
In
the
rank
sweat
of
an
enseamèd
bed
,
Stewed
in
corruption
,
honeying
and
making
love
Over
the
nasty
sty
!
ACT 3. SC. 4
O
,
speak
to
me
no
more
!
These
words
like
daggers
enter
in
my
ears
.
No
more
,
sweet
Hamlet
!
A
murderer
and
a
villain
,
A
slave
that
is
not
twentieth
part
the
tithe
Of
your
precedent
lord
;
a
vice
of
kings
,
A
cutpurse
of
the
empire
and
the
rule
,
That
from
a
shelf
the
precious
diadem
stole
And
put
it
in
his
pocket
—
No
more
!
A
king
of
shreds
and
patches
—
Enter
Ghost
.
Save
me
and
hover
o’er
me
with
your
wings
,
You
heavenly
guards
!
—
What
would
your
gracious
figure
?
Alas
,
he’s
mad
.
Do
you
not
come
your
tardy
son
to
chide
,
That
,
lapsed
in
time
and
passion
,
lets
go
by
Th’
important
acting
of
your
dread
command
?
O
,
say
!
Do
not
forget
.
This
visitation
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
.
Speak
to
her
,
Hamlet
.
How
is
it
with
you
,
lady
?
Alas
,
how
is
’t
with
you
,
That
you
do
bend
your
eye
on
vacancy
And
with
th’
incorporal
air
do
hold
discourse
?
Forth
at
your
eyes
your
spirits
wildly
peep
,
And
,
as
the
sleeping
soldiers
in
th’
alarm
,
Your
bedded
hair
,
like
life
in
excrements
,
Start
up
and
stand
an
end
.
O
gentle
son
,
ACT 3. SC. 4
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
conjoined
,
preaching
to
stones
,
Would
make
them
capable
.
To
the
Ghost
.
Do
not
look
upon
me
,
Lest
with
this
piteous
action
you
convert
My
stern
effects
.
Then
what
I
have
to
do
Will
want
true
color
—
tears
perchance
for
blood
.
To
whom
do
you
speak
this
?
Do
you
see
nothing
there
?
Nothing
at
all
;
yet
all
that
is
I
see
.
Nor
did
you
nothing
hear
?
No
,
nothing
but
ourselves
.
Why
,
look
you
there
,
look
how
it
steals
away
!
My
father
,
in
his
habit
as
he
lived
!
Look
where
he
goes
even
now
out
at
the
portal
!
Ghost
exits
.
This
is
the
very
coinage
of
your
brain
.
This
bodiless
creation
ecstasy
Is
very
cunning
in
.
Ecstasy
?
My
pulse
as
yours
doth
temperately
keep
time
And
makes
as
healthful
music
.
It
is
not
madness
That
I
have
uttered
.
Bring
me
to
the
test
,
And
I
the
matter
will
reword
,
which
madness
Would
gambol
from
.
Mother
,
for
love
of
grace
,
Lay
not
that
flattering
unction
to
your
soul
That
not
your
trespass
but
my
madness
speaks
.
It
will
but
skin
and
film
the
ulcerous
place
,
Whiles
rank
corruption
,
mining
all
within
,
Infects
unseen
.
Confess
yourself
to
heaven
,
ACT 3. SC. 4
Repent
what’s
past
,
avoid
what
is
to
come
,
And
do
not
spread
the
compost
on
the
weeds
To
make
them
ranker
.
Forgive
me
this
my
virtue
,
For
,
in
the
fatness
of
these
pursy
times
,
Virtue
itself
of
vice
must
pardon
beg
,
Yea
,
curb
and
woo
for
leave
to
do
him
good
.
O
Hamlet
,
thou
hast
cleft
my
heart
in
twain
!
O
,
throw
away
the
worser
part
of
it
,
And
live
the
purer
with
the
other
half
!
Good
night
.
But
go
not
to
my
uncle’s
bed
.
Assume
a
virtue
if
you
have
it
not
.
That
monster
,
custom
,
who
all
sense
doth
eat
,
Of
habits
devil
,
is
angel
yet
in
this
,
That
to
the
use
of
actions
fair
and
good
He
likewise
gives
a
frock
or
livery
That
aptly
is
put
on
.
Refrain
tonight
,
And
that
shall
lend
a
kind
of
easiness
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
,
And
,
when
you
are
desirous
to
be
blest
,
I’ll
blessing
beg
of
you
.
For
this
same
lord
Pointing
to
Polonius
.
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
.
I
will
bestow
him
and
will
answer
well
The
death
I
gave
him
.
So
,
again
,
good
night
.
I
must
be
cruel
only
to
be
kind
.
This
bad
begins
,
and
worse
remains
behind
.
One
word
more
,
good
lady
.
What
shall
I
do
?
ACT 3. SC. 4
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
damned
fingers
,
Make
you
to
ravel
all
this
matter
out
That
I
essentially
am
not
in
madness
,
But
mad
in
craft
.
’Twere
good
you
let
him
know
,
For
who
that’s
but
a
queen
,
fair
,
sober
,
wise
,
Would
from
a
paddock
,
from
a
bat
,
a
gib
,
Such
dear
concernings
hide
?
Who
would
do
so
?
No
,
in
despite
of
sense
and
secrecy
,
Unpeg
the
basket
on
the
house’s
top
,
Let
the
birds
fly
,
and
like
the
famous
ape
,
To
try
conclusions
,
in
the
basket
creep
And
break
your
own
neck
down
.
Be
thou
assured
,
if
words
be
made
of
breath
And
breath
of
life
,
I
have
no
life
to
breathe
What
thou
hast
said
to
me
.
I
must
to
England
,
you
know
that
.
Alack
,
I
had
forgot
!
’Tis
so
concluded
on
.
There’s
letters
sealed
;
and
my
two
schoolfellows
,
Whom
I
will
trust
as
I
will
adders
fanged
,
They
bear
the
mandate
;
they
must
sweep
my
way
And
marshal
me
to
knavery
.
Let
it
work
,
For
’tis
the
sport
to
have
the
enginer
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
.
This
man
shall
set
me
packing
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
I’ll
lug
the
guts
into
the
neighbor
room
.
Mother
,
good
night
indeed
.
This
counselor
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
.
—
Good
night
,
mother
.
They
exit
,
Hamlet
tugging
in
Polonius
.
ACT
4
Scene
1
Enter
King
and
Queen
,
with
Rosencrantz
and
Guildenstern
.
There’s
matter
in
these
sighs
;
these
profound
heaves
You
must
translate
;
’tis
fit
we
understand
them
.
Where
is
your
son
?
Bestow
this
place
on
us
a
little
while
.
Rosencrantz
and
Guildenstern
exit
.
Ah
,
mine
own
lord
,
what
have
I
seen
tonight
!
What
,
Gertrude
?
How
does
Hamlet
?
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
The
unseen
good
old
man
.
O
heavy
deed
!
It
had
been
so
with
us
,
had
we
been
there
.
His
liberty
is
full
of
threats
to
all
—
To
you
yourself
,
to
us
,
to
everyone
.
Alas
,
how
shall
this
bloody
deed
be
answered
?
It
will
be
laid
to
us
,
whose
providence
ACT 4. SC. 1
Should
have
kept
short
,
restrained
,
and
out
of
haunt
This
mad
young
man
.
But
so
much
was
our
love
,
We
would
not
understand
what
was
most
fit
,
But
,
like
the
owner
of
a
foul
disease
,
To
keep
it
from
divulging
,
let
it
feed
Even
on
the
pith
of
life
.
Where
is
he
gone
?
To
draw
apart
the
body
he
hath
killed
,
O’er
whom
his
very
madness
,
like
some
ore
Among
a
mineral
of
metals
base
,
Shows
itself
pure
:
he
weeps
for
what
is
done
.
O
Gertrude
,
come
away
!
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
!
Enter
Rosencrantz
and
Guildenstern
.
Friends
both
,
go
join
you
with
some
further
aid
.
Hamlet
in
madness
hath
Polonius
slain
,
And
from
his
mother’s
closet
hath
he
dragged
him
.
Go
seek
him
out
,
speak
fair
,
and
bring
the
body
Into
the
chapel
.
I
pray
you
,
haste
in
this
.
Rosencrantz
and
Guildenstern
exit
.
Come
,
Gertrude
,
we’ll
call
up
our
wisest
friends
And
let
them
know
both
what
we
mean
to
do
And
what’s
untimely
done
.
Whose
whisper
o’er
the
world’s
diameter
,
As
level
as
the
cannon
to
his
blank
Transports
his
poisoned
shot
,
may
miss
our
name
And
hit
the
woundless
air
.
O
,
come
away
!
My
soul
is
full
of
discord
and
dismay
.
They
exit
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Scene
2
Enter
Hamlet
.
Safely
stowed
.
,
within
Hamlet
!
Lord
Hamlet
!
But
soft
,
what
noise
?
Who
calls
on
Hamlet
?
O
,
here
they
come
.
Enter
Rosencrantz
,
Guildenstern
,
and
others
.
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
And
bear
it
to
the
chapel
.
Do
not
believe
it
.
Believe
what
?
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
?
Take
you
me
for
a
sponge
,
my
lord
?
Ay
,
sir
,
that
soaks
up
the
King’s
countenance
,
his
rewards
,
his
authorities
.
But
such
officers
do
the
King
best
service
in
the
end
.
He
keeps
them
like
an
ape
an
apple
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
shall
be
dry
again
.
I
understand
you
not
,
my
lord
.
I
am
glad
of
it
.
A
knavish
speech
sleeps
in
a
foolish
ear
.
My
lord
,
you
must
tell
us
where
the
body
is
and
go
with
us
to
the
King
.
The
body
is
with
the
King
,
but
the
King
is
not
with
the
body
.
The
King
is
a
thing
—
ACT 4. SC. 3
A
thing
,
my
lord
?
Of
nothing
.
Bring
me
to
him
.
Hide
fox
,
and
all
after
!
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
King
and
two
or
three
.
I
have
sent
to
seek
him
and
to
find
the
body
.
How
dangerous
is
it
that
this
man
goes
loose
!
Yet
must
not
we
put
the
strong
law
on
him
.
He’s
loved
of
the
distracted
multitude
,
Who
like
not
in
their
judgment
,
but
their
eyes
;
And
,
where
’tis
so
,
th’
offender’s
scourge
is
weighed
,
But
never
the
offense
.
To
bear
all
smooth
and
even
,
This
sudden
sending
him
away
must
seem
Deliberate
pause
.
Diseases
desperate
grown
By
desperate
appliance
are
relieved
Or
not
at
all
.
Enter
Rosencrantz
.
How
now
,
what
hath
befallen
?
Where
the
dead
body
is
bestowed
,
my
lord
,
We
cannot
get
from
him
.
But
where
is
he
?
Without
,
my
lord
;
guarded
,
to
know
your
pleasure
.
Bring
him
before
us
.
Ho
!
Bring
in
the
lord
.
They
enter
with
Hamlet
.
Now
,
Hamlet
,
where’s
Polonius
?
At
supper
.
ACT 4. SC. 3
At
supper
where
?
Not
where
he
eats
,
but
where
he
is
eaten
.
A
certain
convocation
of
politic
worms
are
e’en
at
him
.
Your
worm
is
your
only
emperor
for
diet
.
We
fat
all
creatures
else
to
fat
us
,
and
we
fat
ourselves
for
maggots
.
Your
fat
king
and
your
lean
beggar
is
but
variable
service
—
two
dishes
but
to
one
table
.
That’s
the
end
.
Alas
,
alas
!
A
man
may
fish
with
the
worm
that
hath
eat
of
a
king
and
eat
of
the
fish
that
hath
fed
of
that
worm
.
What
dost
thou
mean
by
this
?
Nothing
but
to
show
you
how
a
king
may
go
a
progress
through
the
guts
of
a
beggar
.
Where
is
Polonius
?
In
heaven
.
Send
thither
to
see
.
If
your
messenger
find
him
not
there
,
seek
him
i’
th’
other
place
yourself
.
But
if
,
indeed
,
you
find
him
not
within
this
month
,
you
shall
nose
him
as
you
go
up
the
stairs
into
the
lobby
.
,
to
Attendants
.
Go
,
seek
him
there
.
He
will
stay
till
you
come
.
Attendants
exit
.
Hamlet
,
this
deed
,
for
thine
especial
safety
(
Which
we
do
tender
,
as
we
dearly
grieve
For
that
which
thou
hast
done
)
must
send
thee
hence
With
fiery
quickness
.
Therefore
prepare
thyself
.
The
bark
is
ready
,
and
the
wind
at
help
,
Th’
associates
tend
,
and
everything
is
bent
For
England
.
For
England
?
Ay
,
Hamlet
.
Good
.
So
is
it
,
if
thou
knew’st
our
purposes
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
I
see
a
cherub
that
sees
them
.
But
come
,
for
England
.
Farewell
,
dear
mother
.
Thy
loving
father
,
Hamlet
.
My
mother
.
Father
and
mother
is
man
and
wife
,
Man
and
wife
is
one
flesh
,
and
so
,
my
mother
.
—
Come
,
for
England
.
He
exits
.
Follow
him
at
foot
;
tempt
him
with
speed
aboard
.
Delay
it
not
.
I’ll
have
him
hence
tonight
.
Away
,
for
everything
is
sealed
and
done
That
else
leans
on
th’
affair
.
Pray
you
,
make
haste
.
All
but
the
King
exit
.
And
England
,
if
my
love
thou
hold’st
at
aught
(
As
my
great
power
thereof
may
give
thee
sense
,
Since
yet
thy
cicatrice
looks
raw
and
red
After
the
Danish
sword
,
and
thy
free
awe
Pays
homage
to
us
)
,
thou
mayst
not
coldly
set
Our
sovereign
process
,
which
imports
at
full
,
By
letters
congruing
to
that
effect
,
The
present
death
of
Hamlet
.
Do
it
,
England
,
For
like
the
hectic
in
my
blood
he
rages
,
And
thou
must
cure
me
.
Till
I
know
’tis
done
,
Howe’er
my
haps
,
my
joys
will
were
ne’er
begin
begun
.
He
exits
.
Scene
4
Enter
Fortinbras
with
his
army
over
the
stage
.
Go
,
Captain
,
from
me
greet
the
Danish
king
.
Tell
him
that
by
his
license
Fortinbras
Craves
the
conveyance
of
a
promised
march
Over
his
kingdom
.
You
know
the
rendezvous
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
If
that
his
Majesty
would
aught
with
us
,
We
shall
express
our
duty
in
his
eye
;
And
let
him
know
so
.
I
will
do
’t
,
my
lord
.
Go
softly
on
.
All
but
the
Captain
exit
.
Enter
Hamlet
,
Rosencrantz
,
Guildenstern
,
and
others
.
Good
sir
,
whose
powers
are
these
?
They
are
of
Norway
,
sir
.
How
purposed
,
sir
,
I
pray
you
?
Against
some
part
of
Poland
.
Who
commands
them
,
sir
?
The
nephew
to
old
Norway
,
Fortinbras
.
Goes
it
against
the
main
of
Poland
,
sir
,
Or
for
some
frontier
?
Truly
to
speak
,
and
with
no
addition
,
We
go
to
gain
a
little
patch
of
ground
That
hath
in
it
no
profit
but
the
name
.
To
pay
five
ducats
,
five
,
I
would
not
farm
it
;
Nor
will
it
yield
to
Norway
or
the
Pole
A
ranker
rate
,
should
it
be
sold
in
fee
.
Why
,
then
,
the
Polack
never
will
defend
it
.
Yes
,
it
is
already
garrisoned
.
Two
thousand
souls
and
twenty
thousand
ducats
Will
not
debate
the
question
of
this
straw
.
This
is
th’
impostume
of
much
wealth
and
peace
,
That
inward
breaks
and
shows
no
cause
without
Why
the
man
dies
.
—
I
humbly
thank
you
,
sir
.
God
be
wi’
you
,
sir
.
He
exits
.
Will
’t
please
you
go
,
my
lord
?
ACT 4. SC. 4
I’ll
be
with
you
straight
.
Go
a
little
before
.
All
but
Hamlet
exit
.
How
all
occasions
do
inform
against
me
And
spur
my
dull
revenge
.
What
is
a
man
If
his
chief
good
and
market
of
his
time
Be
but
to
sleep
and
feed
?
A
beast
,
no
more
.
Sure
He
that
made
us
with
such
large
discourse
,
Looking
before
and
after
,
gave
us
not
That
capability
and
godlike
reason
To
fust
in
us
unused
.
Now
whether
it
be
Bestial
oblivion
or
some
craven
scruple
Of
thinking
too
precisely
on
th’
event
(
A
thought
which
,
quartered
,
hath
but
one
part
wisdom
And
ever
three
parts
coward
)
,
I
do
not
know
Why
yet
I
live
to
say
This
thing’s
to
do
,
Sith
I
have
cause
,
and
will
,
and
strength
,
and
means
To
do
’t
.
Examples
gross
as
Earth
earth
exhort
me
:
Witness
this
army
of
such
mass
and
charge
,
Led
by
a
delicate
and
tender
prince
,
Whose
spirit
with
divine
ambition
puffed
Makes
mouths
at
the
invisible
event
,
Exposing
what
is
mortal
and
unsure
To
all
that
fortune
,
death
,
and
danger
dare
,
Even
for
an
eggshell
.
Rightly
to
be
great
Is
not
to
stir
without
great
argument
,
But
greatly
to
find
quarrel
in
a
straw
When
honor’s
at
the
stake
.
How
stand
I
,
then
,
That
have
a
father
killed
,
a
mother
stained
,
Excitements
of
my
reason
and
my
blood
,
And
let
all
sleep
,
while
to
my
shame
I
see
The
imminent
death
of
twenty
thousand
men
That
for
a
fantasy
and
trick
of
fame
Go
to
their
graves
like
beds
,
fight
for
a
plot
Whereon
the
numbers
cannot
try
the
cause
,
ACT 4. SC. 5
Which
is
not
tomb
enough
and
continent
To
hide
the
slain
?
O
,
from
this
time
forth
My
thoughts
be
bloody
or
be
nothing
worth
!
He
exits
.
Scene
5
Enter
Horatio
,
Queen
,
and
a
Gentleman
.
I
will
not
speak
with
her
.
She
is
importunate
,
Indeed
distract
;
her
mood
will
needs
be
pitied
.
What
would
she
have
?
She
speaks
much
of
her
father
,
says
she
hears
There’s
tricks
i’
th’
world
,
and
hems
,
and
beats
her
heart
,
Spurns
enviously
at
straws
,
speaks
things
in
doubt
That
carry
but
half
sense
.
Her
speech
is
nothing
,
Yet
the
unshapèd
use
of
it
doth
move
The
hearers
to
collection
.
They
aim
at
it
And
botch
the
words
up
fit
to
their
own
thoughts
;
Which
,
as
her
winks
and
nods
and
gestures
yield
them
,
Indeed
would
make
one
think
there
might
be
thought
,
Though
nothing
sure
,
yet
much
unhappily
.
’Twere
good
she
were
spoken
with
,
for
she
may
strew
Dangerous
conjectures
in
ill-breeding
minds
.
Let
her
come
in
.
Gentleman
exits
.
Aside
.
To
my
sick
soul
(
as
sin’s
true
nature
is
)
,
Each
toy
seems
prologue
to
some
great
amiss
.
So
full
of
artless
jealousy
is
guilt
,
It
spills
itself
in
fearing
to
be
spilt
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
Enter
Ophelia
distracted
.
Where
is
the
beauteous
Majesty
of
Denmark
?
How
now
,
Ophelia
?
sings
How
should
I
your
true
love
know
From
another
one
?
By
his
cockle
hat
and
staff
And
his
sandal
shoon
.
Alas
,
sweet
lady
,
what
imports
this
song
?
Say
you
?
Nay
,
pray
you
,
mark
.
Sings
.
He
is
dead
and
gone
,
lady
,
He
is
dead
and
gone
;
At
his
head
a
grass-green
turf
,
At
his
heels
a
stone
.
Oh
,
ho
!
Nay
,
but
Ophelia
—
Pray
you
,
mark
.
Sings
.
White
his
shroud
as
the
mountain
snow
—
Enter
King
.
Alas
,
look
here
,
my
lord
.
sings
Larded
all
with
sweet
flowers
;
Which
bewept
to
the
ground
did
not
go
With
true-love
showers
.
How
do
you
,
pretty
lady
?
Well
,
God
dild
you
.
They
say
the
owl
was
a
baker’s
daughter
.
Lord
,
we
know
what
we
are
but
know
not
what
we
may
be
.
God
be
at
your
table
.
Conceit
upon
her
father
.
Pray
let’s
have
no
words
of
this
,
but
when
they
ask
you
what
it
means
,
say
you
this
:
ACT 4. SC. 5
Sings
.
Tomorrow
is
Saint
Valentine’s
day
,
All
in
the
morning
betime
,
And
I
a
maid
at
your
window
,
To
be
your
Valentine
.
Then
up
he
rose
and
donned
his
clothes
And
dupped
the
chamber
door
,
Let
in
the
maid
,
that
out
a
maid
Never
departed
more
.
Pretty
Ophelia
—
Indeed
,
without
an
oath
,
I’ll
make
an
end
on
’t
:
Sings
.
By
Gis
and
by
Saint
Charity
,
Alack
and
fie
for
shame
,
Young
men
will
do
’t
,
if
they
come
to
’t
;
By
Cock
,
they
are
to
blame
.
Quoth
she
Before
you
tumbled
me
,
You
promised
me
to
wed
.
He
answers
:
So
would
I
’a
done
,
by
yonder
sun
,
An
thou
hadst
not
come
to
my
bed
.
How
long
hath
she
been
thus
?
I
hope
all
will
be
well
.
We
must
be
patient
,
but
I
cannot
choose
but
weep
to
think
they
would
lay
him
i’
th’
cold
ground
.
My
brother
shall
know
of
it
.
And
so
I
thank
you
for
your
good
counsel
.
Come
,
my
coach
!
Good
night
,
ladies
,
good
night
,
sweet
ladies
,
good
night
,
good
night
.
She
exits
.
Follow
her
close
;
give
her
good
watch
,
I
pray
you
.
Horatio
exits
.
O
,
this
is
the
poison
of
deep
grief
.
It
springs
All
from
her
father’s
death
,
and
now
behold
!
O
Gertrude
,
Gertrude
,
When
sorrows
come
,
they
come
not
single
spies
,
But
in
battalions
:
first
,
her
father
slain
;
Next
,
your
son
gone
,
and
he
most
violent
author
Of
his
own
just
remove
;
the
people
muddied
,
ACT 4. SC. 5
Thick
,
and
unwholesome
in
their
thoughts
and
whispers
For
good
Polonius’
death
,
and
we
have
done
but
greenly
In
hugger-mugger
to
inter
him
;
poor
Ophelia
Divided
from
herself
and
her
fair
judgment
,
Without
the
which
we
are
pictures
or
mere
beasts
;
Last
,
and
as
much
containing
as
all
these
,
Her
brother
is
in
secret
come
from
France
,
Feeds
on
his
wonder
,
keeps
himself
in
clouds
,
And
wants
not
buzzers
to
infect
his
ear
With
pestilent
speeches
of
his
father’s
death
,
Wherein
necessity
,
of
matter
beggared
,
Will
nothing
stick
our
person
to
arraign
In
ear
and
ear
.
O
,
my
dear
Gertrude
,
this
,
Like
to
a
murd’ring
piece
,
in
many
places
Gives
me
superfluous
death
.
A
noise
within
.
Alack
,
what
noise
is
this
?
Attend
!
Where
is
my
Switzers
?
Let
them
guard
the
door
.
Enter
a
Messenger
.
What
is
the
matter
?
Save
yourself
,
my
lord
.
The
ocean
,
overpeering
of
his
list
,
Eats
not
the
flats
with
more
impiteous
haste
Than
young
Laertes
,
in
a
riotous
head
,
O’erbears
your
officers
.
The
rabble
call
him
lord
,
And
,
as
the
world
were
now
but
to
begin
,
Antiquity
forgot
,
custom
not
known
,
The
ratifiers
and
props
of
every
word
,
They
cry
Choose
we
,
Laertes
shall
be
king
!
Caps
,
hands
,
and
tongues
applaud
it
to
the
clouds
,
Laertes
shall
be
king
!
Laertes
king
!
A
noise
within
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
How
cheerfully
on
the
false
trail
they
cry
.
O
,
this
is
counter
,
you
false
Danish
dogs
!
The
doors
are
broke
.
Enter
Laertes
with
others
.
Where
is
this
king
?
—
Sirs
,
stand
you
all
without
.
No
,
let’s
come
in
!
I
pray
you
,
give
me
leave
.
We
will
,
we
will
.
I
thank
you
.
Keep
the
door
.
Followers
exit
.
O
,
thou
vile
king
,
Give
me
my
father
!
Calmly
,
good
Laertes
.
That
drop
of
blood
that’s
calm
proclaims
me
bastard
,
Cries
cuckold
to
my
father
,
brands
the
harlot
Even
here
between
the
chaste
unsmirchèd
brow
Of
my
true
mother
.
What
is
the
cause
,
Laertes
,
That
thy
rebellion
looks
so
giant-like
?
—
Let
him
go
,
Gertrude
.
Do
not
fear
our
person
.
There’s
such
divinity
doth
hedge
a
king
That
treason
can
but
peep
to
what
it
would
,
Acts
little
of
his
will
.
—
Tell
me
,
Laertes
,
Why
thou
art
thus
incensed
.
—
Let
him
go
,
Gertrude
.
—
Speak
,
man
.
Where
is
my
father
?
Dead
.
But
not
by
him
.
Let
him
demand
his
fill
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
How
came
he
dead
?
I’ll
not
be
juggled
with
.
To
hell
,
allegiance
!
Vows
,
to
the
blackest
devil
!
Conscience
and
grace
,
to
the
profoundest
pit
!
I
dare
damnation
.
To
this
point
I
stand
,
That
both
the
worlds
I
give
to
negligence
,
Let
come
what
comes
,
only
I’ll
be
revenged
Most
throughly
for
my
father
.
Who
shall
stay
you
?
My
will
,
not
all
the
world
.
And
for
my
means
,
I’ll
husband
them
so
well
They
shall
go
far
with
little
.
Good
Laertes
,
If
you
desire
to
know
the
certainty
Of
your
dear
father
,
is
’t
writ
in
your
revenge
That
,
swoopstake
,
you
will
draw
both
friend
and
foe
,
Winner
and
loser
?
None
but
his
enemies
.
Will
you
know
them
,
then
?
To
his
good
friends
thus
wide
I’ll
ope
my
arms
And
,
like
the
kind
life-rend’ring
pelican
,
Repast
them
with
my
blood
.
Why
,
now
you
speak
Like
a
good
child
and
a
true
gentleman
.
That
I
am
guiltless
of
your
father’s
death
And
am
most
sensibly
in
grief
for
it
,
It
shall
as
level
to
your
judgment
’pear
As
day
does
to
your
eye
.
A
noise
within
:
Let
her
come
in
!
.
How
now
,
what
noise
is
that
?
Enter
Ophelia
.
O
heat
,
dry
up
my
brains
!
Tears
seven
times
salt
Burn
out
the
sense
and
virtue
of
mine
eye
!
ACT 4. SC. 5
By
heaven
,
thy
madness
shall
be
paid
with
weight
Till
our
scale
turn
the
beam
!
O
rose
of
May
,
Dear
maid
,
kind
sister
,
sweet
Ophelia
!
O
heavens
,
is
’t
possible
a
young
maid’s
wits
Should
be
as
mortal
as
an
old
man’s
life
?
Nature
is
fine
in
love
,
and
,
where
’tis
fine
,
It
sends
some
precious
instance
of
itself
After
the
thing
it
loves
.
sings
They
bore
him
barefaced
on
the
bier
,
Hey
non
nonny
,
nonny
,
hey
nonny
,
And
in
his
grave
rained
many
a
tear
.
Fare
you
well
,
my
dove
.
Hadst
thou
thy
wits
and
didst
persuade
revenge
,
It
could
not
move
thus
.
You
must
sing
A-down
a-down
—
and
you
Call
him
a-down-a
.
—
O
,
how
the
wheel
becomes
it
!
It
is
the
false
steward
that
stole
his
master’s
daughter
.
This
nothing’s
more
than
matter
.
There’s
rosemary
,
that’s
for
remembrance
.
Pray
you
,
love
,
remember
.
And
there
is
pansies
,
that’s
for
thoughts
.
A
document
in
madness
:
thoughts
and
remembrance
fitted
.
There’s
fennel
for
you
,
and
columbines
.
There’s
rue
for
you
,
and
here’s
some
for
me
;
we
may
call
it
herb
of
grace
o’
Sundays
.
You
must
wear
your
rue
with
a
difference
.
There’s
a
daisy
.
I
would
give
you
some
violets
,
but
they
withered
all
when
my
father
died
.
They
say
he
made
a
good
end
.
Sings
.
For
bonny
sweet
Robin
is
all
my
joy
.
Thought
and
afflictions
,
passion
,
hell
itself
She
turns
to
favor
and
to
prettiness
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
sings
And
will
he
not
come
again
?
And
will
he
not
come
again
?
No
,
no
,
he
is
dead
.
Go
to
thy
deathbed
.
He
never
will
come
again
.
His
beard
was
as
white
as
snow
,
All
flaxen
was
his
poll
.
He
is
gone
,
he
is
gone
,
And
we
cast
away
moan
.
God
’a
mercy
on
his
soul
.
And
of
all
Christians’
souls
,
I
pray
God
.
God
be
wi’
you
.
She
exits
.
Do
you
see
this
,
O
God
?
Laertes
,
I
must
commune
with
your
grief
,
Or
you
deny
me
right
.
Go
but
apart
,
Make
choice
of
whom
your
wisest
friends
you
will
,
And
they
shall
hear
and
judge
’twixt
you
and
me
.
If
by
direct
or
by
collateral
hand
They
find
us
touched
,
we
will
our
kingdom
give
,
Our
crown
,
our
life
,
and
all
that
we
call
ours
,
To
you
in
satisfaction
;
but
if
not
,
Be
you
content
to
lend
your
patience
to
us
,
And
we
shall
jointly
labor
with
your
soul
To
give
it
due
content
.
Let
this
be
so
.
His
means
of
death
,
his
obscure
funeral
(
No
trophy
,
sword
,
nor
hatchment
o’er
his
bones
,
No
noble
rite
nor
formal
ostentation
)
Cry
to
be
heard
,
as
’twere
from
heaven
to
earth
,
That
I
must
call
’t
in
question
.
So
you
shall
,
And
where
th’
offense
is
,
let
the
great
ax
fall
.
I
pray
you
,
go
with
me
.
They
exit
.
ACT 4. SC. 6
Scene
6
Enter
Horatio
and
others
.
What
are
they
that
would
speak
with
me
?
Seafaring
men
,
sir
.
They
say
they
have
letters
for
you
.
Let
them
come
in
.
Gentleman
exits
.
I
do
not
know
from
what
part
of
the
world
I
should
be
greeted
,
if
not
from
Lord
Hamlet
.
Enter
Sailors
.
God
bless
you
,
sir
.
Let
Him
bless
thee
too
.
He
shall
,
sir
,
an
’t
please
Him
.
There’s
a
letter
for
you
,
sir
.
It
came
from
th’
ambassador
that
was
bound
for
England
—
if
your
name
be
Horatio
,
as
I
am
let
to
know
it
is
.
He
hands
Horatio
a
letter
.
reads
the
letter
Horatio
,
when
thou
shalt
have
overlooked
this
,
give
these
fellows
some
means
to
the
King
.
They
have
letters
for
him
.
Ere
we
were
two
days
old
at
sea
,
a
pirate
of
very
warlike
appointment
gave
us
chase
.
Finding
ourselves
too
slow
of
sail
,
we
put
on
a
compelled
valor
,
and
in
the
grapple
I
boarded
them
.
On
the
instant
,
they
got
clear
of
our
ship
;
so
I
alone
became
their
prisoner
.
They
have
dealt
with
me
like
thieves
of
mercy
,
but
they
knew
what
they
did
:
I
am
to
do
a
good
turn
for
them
.
Let
the
King
have
the
letters
I
have
sent
,
and
repair
thou
to
me
with
as
much
speed
as
thou
wouldst
fly
death
.
I
have
words
to
speak
in
thine
ear
will
make
thee
dumb
;
yet
are
they
much
too
light
for
the
bore
of
the
matter
.
These
good
fellows
will
bring
thee
where
I
am
.
Rosencrantz
and
Guildenstern
hold
their
course
for
England
;
of
them
I
have
much
to
tell
thee
.
Farewell
.
He
that
thou
knowest
thine
,
Hamlet
.
ACT 4. SC. 7
Come
,
I
will
give
you
way
for
these
your
letters
And
do
’t
the
speedier
that
you
may
direct
me
To
him
from
whom
you
brought
them
.
They
exit
.
Scene
7
Enter
King
and
Laertes
.
Now
must
your
conscience
my
acquittance
seal
,
And
you
must
put
me
in
your
heart
for
friend
,
Sith
you
have
heard
,
and
with
a
knowing
ear
,
That
he
which
hath
your
noble
father
slain
Pursued
my
life
.
It
well
appears
.
But
tell
me
Why
you
proceeded
not
against
these
feats
,
So
criminal
and
so
capital
in
nature
,
As
by
your
safety
,
greatness
,
wisdom
,
all
things
else
,
You
mainly
were
stirred
up
.
O
,
for
two
special
reasons
,
Which
may
to
you
perhaps
seem
much
unsinewed
,
But
yet
to
me
they’re
strong
.
The
Queen
his
mother
Lives
almost
by
his
looks
,
and
for
myself
(
My
virtue
or
my
plague
,
be
it
either
which
)
,
She
is
so
conjunctive
to
my
life
and
soul
That
,
as
the
star
moves
not
but
in
his
sphere
,
I
could
not
but
by
her
.
The
other
motive
Why
to
a
public
count
I
might
not
go
Is
the
great
love
the
general
gender
bear
him
,
Who
,
dipping
all
his
faults
in
their
affection
,
Work
like
the
spring
that
turneth
wood
to
stone
,
Convert
his
gyves
to
graces
,
so
that
my
arrows
,
Too
slightly
timbered
for
so
loud
a
wind
,
Would
have
reverted
to
my
bow
again
,
But
not
where
I
have
aimed
them
.
And
so
have
I
a
noble
father
lost
,
ACT 4. SC. 7
A
sister
driven
into
desp’rate
terms
,
Whose
worth
,
if
praises
may
go
back
again
,
Stood
challenger
on
mount
of
all
the
age
For
her
perfections
.
But
my
revenge
will
come
.
Break
not
your
sleeps
for
that
.
You
must
not
think
That
we
are
made
of
stuff
so
flat
and
dull
That
we
can
let
our
beard
be
shook
with
danger
And
think
it
pastime
.
You
shortly
shall
hear
more
.
I
loved
your
father
,
and
we
love
ourself
,
And
that
,
I
hope
,
will
teach
you
to
imagine
—
Enter
a
Messenger
with
letters
.
How
now
?
What
news
?
Letters
,
my
lord
,
from
Hamlet
.
These
to
your
Majesty
,
this
to
the
Queen
.
From
Hamlet
?
Who
brought
them
?
Sailors
,
my
lord
,
they
say
.
I
saw
them
not
.
They
were
given
me
by
Claudio
.
He
received
them
Of
him
that
brought
them
.
Laertes
,
you
shall
hear
them
.
—
Leave
us
.
Messenger
exits
.
Reads
.
High
and
mighty
,
you
shall
know
I
am
set
naked
on
your
kingdom
.
Tomorrow
shall
I
beg
leave
to
see
your
kingly
eyes
,
when
I
shall
(
first
asking
your
pardon
)
thereunto
recount
the
occasion
of
my
sudden
and
more
strange
return
.
Hamlet
.
What
should
this
mean
?
Are
all
the
rest
come
back
?
Or
is
it
some
abuse
and
no
such
thing
?
Know
you
the
hand
?
’Tis
Hamlet’s
character
.
Naked
—
And
in
a
postscript
here
,
he
says
alone
.
Can
you
advise
me
?
ACT 4. SC. 7
I
am
lost
in
it
,
my
lord
.
But
let
him
come
.
It
warms
the
very
sickness
in
my
heart
That
I
shall
live
and
tell
him
to
his
teeth
Thus
didst
thou
.
If
it
be
so
,
Laertes
(
As
how
should
it
be
so
?
how
otherwise
?
)
,
Will
you
be
ruled
by
me
?
Ay
,
my
lord
,
So
you
will
not
o’errule
me
to
a
peace
.
To
thine
own
peace
.
If
he
be
now
returned
,
As
checking
at
his
voyage
,
and
that
he
means
No
more
to
undertake
it
,
I
will
work
him
To
an
exploit
,
now
ripe
in
my
device
,
Under
the
which
he
shall
not
choose
but
fall
;
And
for
his
death
no
wind
of
blame
shall
breathe
,
But
even
his
mother
shall
uncharge
the
practice
And
call
it
accident
.
My
lord
,
I
will
be
ruled
,
The
rather
if
you
could
devise
it
so
That
I
might
be
the
organ
.
It
falls
right
.
You
have
been
talked
of
since
your
travel
much
,
And
that
in
Hamlet’s
hearing
,
for
a
quality
Wherein
they
say
you
shine
.
Your
sum
of
parts
Did
not
together
pluck
such
envy
from
him
As
did
that
one
,
and
that
,
in
my
regard
,
Of
the
unworthiest
siege
.
What
part
is
that
,
my
lord
?
A
very
ribbon
in
the
cap
of
youth
—
Yet
needful
too
,
for
youth
no
less
becomes
The
light
and
careless
livery
that
it
wears
Than
settled
age
his
sables
and
his
weeds
,
Importing
health
and
graveness
.
Two
months
since
ACT 4. SC. 7
Here
was
a
gentleman
of
Normandy
.
I
have
seen
myself
,
and
served
against
,
the
French
,
And
they
can
well
on
horseback
,
but
this
gallant
Had
witchcraft
in
’t
.
He
grew
unto
his
seat
,
And
to
such
wondrous
doing
brought
his
horse
As
had
he
been
encorpsed
and
demi-natured
With
the
brave
beast
.
So
far
he
topped
my
thought
That
I
in
forgery
of
shapes
and
tricks
Come
short
of
what
he
did
.
A
Norman
was
’t
?
A
Norman
.
Upon
my
life
,
Lamord
.
The
very
same
.
I
know
him
well
.
He
is
the
brooch
indeed
And
gem
of
all
the
nation
.
He
made
confession
of
you
And
gave
you
such
a
masterly
report
For
art
and
exercise
in
your
defense
,
And
for
your
rapier
most
especial
,
That
he
cried
out
’twould
be
a
sight
indeed
If
one
could
match
you
.
The
’scrimers
of
their
nation
He
swore
had
neither
motion
,
guard
,
nor
eye
,
If
you
opposed
them
.
Sir
,
this
report
of
his
Did
Hamlet
so
envenom
with
his
envy
That
he
could
nothing
do
but
wish
and
beg
Your
sudden
coming-o’er
,
to
play
with
you
.
Now
out
of
this
—
What
out
of
this
,
my
lord
?
Laertes
,
was
your
father
dear
to
you
?
Or
are
you
like
the
painting
of
a
sorrow
,
A
face
without
a
heart
?
Why
ask
you
this
?
ACT 4. SC. 7
Not
that
I
think
you
did
not
love
your
father
,
But
that
I
know
love
is
begun
by
time
And
that
I
see
,
in
passages
of
proof
,
Time
qualifies
the
spark
and
fire
of
it
.
There
lives
within
the
very
flame
of
love
A
kind
of
wick
or
snuff
that
will
abate
it
,
And
nothing
is
at
a
like
goodness
still
;
For
goodness
,
growing
to
a
pleurisy
,
Dies
in
his
own
too-much
.
That
we
would
do
We
should
do
when
we
would
;
for
this
would
changes
And
hath
abatements
and
delays
as
many
As
there
are
tongues
,
are
hands
,
are
accidents
;
And
then
this
should
is
like
a
spendthrift
sigh
,
That
hurts
by
easing
.
But
to
the
quick
of
th’
ulcer
:
Hamlet
comes
back
;
what
would
you
undertake
To
show
yourself
indeed
your
father’s
son
More
than
in
words
?
To
cut
his
throat
i’
th’
church
.
No
place
indeed
should
murder
sanctuarize
;
Revenge
should
have
no
bounds
.
But
,
good
Laertes
,
Will
you
do
this
?
Keep
close
within
your
chamber
.
Hamlet
,
returned
,
shall
know
you
are
come
home
.
We’ll
put
on
those
shall
praise
your
excellence
And
set
a
double
varnish
on
the
fame
The
Frenchman
gave
you
;
bring
you
,
in
fine
,
together
And
wager
on
your
heads
.
He
,
being
remiss
,
Most
generous
,
and
free
from
all
contriving
,
Will
not
peruse
the
foils
,
so
that
with
ease
,
Or
with
a
little
shuffling
,
you
may
choose
A
sword
unbated
,
and
in
a
pass
of
practice
Requite
him
for
your
father
.
ACT 4. SC. 7
I
will
do
’t
,
And
for
that
purpose
I’ll
anoint
my
sword
.
I
bought
an
unction
of
a
mountebank
So
mortal
that
,
but
dip
a
knife
in
it
,
Where
it
draws
blood
no
cataplasm
so
rare
,
Collected
from
all
simples
that
have
virtue
Under
the
moon
,
can
save
the
thing
from
death
That
is
but
scratched
withal
.
I’ll
touch
my
point
With
this
contagion
,
that
,
if
I
gall
him
slightly
,
It
may
be
death
.
Let’s
further
think
of
this
,
Weigh
what
convenience
both
of
time
and
means
May
fit
us
to
our
shape
.
If
this
should
fail
,
And
that
our
drift
look
through
our
bad
performance
,
’Twere
better
not
assayed
.
Therefore
this
project
Should
have
a
back
or
second
that
might
hold
If
this
did
blast
in
proof
.
Soft
,
let
me
see
.
We’ll
make
a
solemn
wager
on
your
cunnings
—
I
ha
’t
!
When
in
your
motion
you
are
hot
and
dry
(
As
make
your
bouts
more
violent
to
that
end
)
And
that
he
calls
for
drink
,
I’ll
have
prepared
him
A
chalice
for
the
nonce
,
whereon
but
sipping
,
If
he
by
chance
escape
your
venomed
stuck
,
Our
purpose
may
hold
there
.
—
But
stay
,
what
noise
?
Enter
Queen
.
One
woe
doth
tread
upon
another’s
heel
,
So
fast
they
follow
.
Your
sister’s
drowned
,
Laertes
.
Drowned
?
O
,
where
?
There
is
a
willow
grows
askant
the
brook
ACT 4. SC. 7
That
shows
his
hoar
leaves
in
the
glassy
stream
.
Therewith
fantastic
garlands
did
she
make
Of
crowflowers
,
nettles
,
daisies
,
and
long
purples
,
That
liberal
shepherds
give
a
grosser
name
,
But
our
cold
maids
do
dead
men’s
fingers
call
them
.
There
on
the
pendant
boughs
her
coronet
weeds
Clamb’ring
to
hang
,
an
envious
sliver
broke
,
When
down
her
weedy
trophies
and
herself
Fell
in
the
weeping
brook
.
Her
clothes
spread
wide
,
And
mermaid-like
awhile
they
bore
her
up
,
Which
time
she
chanted
snatches
of
old
lauds
,
As
one
incapable
of
her
own
distress
Or
like
a
creature
native
and
endued
Unto
that
element
.
But
long
it
could
not
be
Till
that
her
garments
,
heavy
with
their
drink
,
Pulled
the
poor
wretch
from
her
melodious
lay
To
muddy
death
.
Alas
,
then
she
is
drowned
.
Drowned
,
drowned
.
Too
much
of
water
hast
thou
,
poor
Ophelia
,
And
therefore
I
forbid
my
tears
.
But
yet
It
is
our
trick
;
nature
her
custom
holds
,
Let
shame
say
what
it
will
.
When
these
are
gone
,
The
woman
will
be
out
.
—
Adieu
,
my
lord
.
I
have
a
speech
o’
fire
that
fain
would
blaze
,
But
that
this
folly
drowns
it
.
He
exits
.
Let’s
follow
,
Gertrude
.
How
much
I
had
to
do
to
calm
his
rage
!
Now
fear
I
this
will
give
it
start
again
.
Therefore
,
let’s
follow
.
They
exit
.
ACT
5
Scene
1
Enter
Gravedigger
and
Another
.
Is
she
to
be
buried
in
Christian
burial
,
when
she
willfully
seeks
her
own
salvation
?
I
tell
thee
she
is
.
Therefore
make
her
grave
straight
.
The
crowner
hath
sat
on
her
and
finds
it
Christian
burial
.
How
can
that
be
,
unless
she
drowned
herself
in
her
own
defense
?
Why
,
’tis
found
so
.
It
must
be
se
offendendo
;
it
cannot
be
else
.
For
here
lies
the
point
:
if
I
drown
myself
wittingly
,
it
argues
an
act
,
and
an
act
hath
three
branches
—
it
is
to
act
,
to
do
,
to
perform
.
Argal
,
she
drowned
herself
wittingly
.
Nay
,
but
hear
you
,
goodman
delver
—
Give
me
leave
.
Here
lies
the
water
;
good
.
Here
stands
the
man
;
good
.
If
the
man
go
to
this
water
and
drown
himself
,
it
is
(
will
he
,
nill
he
)
he
goes
;
mark
you
that
.
But
if
the
water
come
to
him
and
drown
him
,
he
drowns
not
himself
.
Argal
,
he
that
is
not
guilty
of
his
own
death
shortens
not
his
own
life
.
But
is
this
law
?
Ay
,
marry
,
is
’t
—
crowner’s
’quest
law
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
Will
you
ha’
the
truth
on
’t
?
If
this
had
not
been
a
gentlewoman
,
she
should
have
been
buried
out
o’
Christian
burial
.
Why
,
there
thou
sayst
.
And
the
more
pity
that
great
folk
should
have
count’nance
in
this
world
to
drown
or
hang
themselves
more
than
their
even-Christian
.
Come
,
my
spade
.
There
is
no
ancient
gentlemen
but
gard’ners
,
ditchers
,
and
grave-makers
.
They
hold
up
Adam’s
profession
.
Was
he
a
gentleman
?
He
was
the
first
that
ever
bore
arms
.
Why
,
he
had
none
.
What
,
art
a
heathen
?
How
dost
thou
understand
the
scripture
?
The
scripture
says
Adam
digged
.
Could
he
dig
without
arms
?
I’ll
put
another
question
to
thee
.
If
thou
answerest
me
not
to
the
purpose
,
confess
thyself
—
Go
to
!
What
is
he
that
builds
stronger
than
either
the
mason
,
the
shipwright
,
or
the
carpenter
?
The
gallows-maker
;
for
that
frame
outlives
a
thousand
tenants
.
I
like
thy
wit
well
,
in
good
faith
.
The
gallows
does
well
.
But
how
does
it
well
?
It
does
well
to
those
that
do
ill
.
Now
,
thou
dost
ill
to
say
the
gallows
is
built
stronger
than
the
church
.
Argal
,
the
gallows
may
do
well
to
thee
.
To
’t
again
,
come
.
Who
builds
stronger
than
a
mason
,
a
shipwright
,
or
a
carpenter
?
Ay
,
tell
me
that
,
and
unyoke
.
Marry
,
now
I
can
tell
.
To
’t
.
Mass
,
I
cannot
tell
.
Enter
Hamlet
and
Horatio
afar
off
.
Cudgel
thy
brains
no
more
about
it
,
ACT 5. SC. 1
for
your
dull
ass
will
not
mend
his
pace
with
beating
.
And
,
when
you
are
asked
this
question
next
,
say
a
grave-maker
.
The
houses
he
makes
lasts
till
doomsday
.
Go
,
get
thee
in
,
and
fetch
me
a
stoup
of
liquor
.
The
Other
Man
exits
and
the
Gravedigger
digs
and
sings
.
In
youth
when
I
did
love
,
did
love
,
Methought
it
was
very
sweet
To
contract
—
O
—
the
time
for
—
a
—
my
behove
,
O
,
methought
there
—
a
—
was
nothing
—
a
—
meet
.
Has
this
fellow
no
feeling
of
his
business
?
He
sings
in
grave-making
.
Custom
hath
made
it
in
him
a
property
of
easiness
.
’Tis
e’en
so
.
The
hand
of
little
employment
hath
the
daintier
sense
.
sings
But
age
with
his
stealing
steps
Hath
clawed
me
in
his
clutch
,
And
hath
shipped
me
into
the
land
,
As
if
I
had
never
been
such
.
He
digs
up
a
skull
.
That
skull
had
a
tongue
in
it
and
could
sing
once
.
How
the
knave
jowls
it
to
the
ground
as
if
’twere
Cain’s
jawbone
,
that
did
the
first
murder
!
This
might
be
the
pate
of
a
politician
which
this
ass
now
o’erreaches
,
one
that
would
circumvent
God
,
might
it
not
?
It
might
,
my
lord
.
Or
of
a
courtier
,
which
could
say
Good
morrow
,
sweet
lord
!
How
dost
thou
,
sweet
lord
?
This
might
be
my
Lord
Such-a-one
that
praised
my
Lord
Such-a-one’s
horse
when
he
went
to
beg
it
,
might
it
not
?
Ay
,
my
lord
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
Why
,
e’en
so
.
And
now
my
Lady
Worm’s
,
chapless
and
knocked
about
the
mazard
with
a
sexton’s
spade
.
Here’s
fine
revolution
,
an
we
had
the
trick
to
see
’t
.
Did
these
bones
cost
no
more
the
breeding
but
to
play
at
loggets
with
them
?
Mine
ache
to
think
on
’t
.
sings
A
pickax
and
a
spade
,
a
spade
,
For
and
a
shrouding
sheet
,
O
,
a
pit
of
clay
for
to
be
made
For
such
a
guest
is
meet
.
He
digs
up
more
skulls
.
There’s
another
.
Why
may
not
that
be
the
skull
of
a
lawyer
?
Where
be
his
quiddities
now
,
his
quillities
,
his
cases
,
his
tenures
,
and
his
tricks
?
Why
does
he
suffer
this
mad
knave
now
to
knock
him
about
the
sconce
with
a
dirty
shovel
and
will
not
tell
him
of
his
action
of
battery
?
Hum
,
this
fellow
might
be
in
’s
time
a
great
buyer
of
land
,
with
his
statutes
,
his
recognizances
,
his
fines
,
his
double
vouchers
,
his
recoveries
.
Is
this
the
fine
of
his
fines
and
the
recovery
of
his
recoveries
,
to
have
his
fine
pate
full
of
fine
dirt
?
Will
his
vouchers
vouch
him
no
more
of
his
purchases
,
and
double
ones
too
,
than
the
length
and
breadth
of
a
pair
of
indentures
?
The
very
conveyances
of
his
lands
will
scarcely
lie
in
this
box
,
and
must
th’
inheritor
himself
have
no
more
,
ha
?
Not
a
jot
more
,
my
lord
.
Is
not
parchment
made
of
sheepskins
?
Ay
,
my
lord
,
and
of
calves’
skins
too
.
They
are
sheep
and
calves
which
seek
out
assurance
in
that
.
I
will
speak
to
this
fellow
.
—
Whose
grave’s
this
,
sirrah
?
Mine
,
sir
.
Sings
.
O
,
a
pit
of
clay
for
to
be
made
For
such
a
guest
is
meet
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
I
think
it
be
thine
indeed
,
for
thou
liest
in
’t
.
You
lie
out
on
’t
,
sir
,
and
therefore
’tis
not
yours
.
For
my
part
,
I
do
not
lie
in
’t
,
yet
it
is
mine
.
Thou
dost
lie
in
’t
,
to
be
in
’t
and
say
it
is
thine
.
’Tis
for
the
dead
,
not
for
the
quick
;
therefore
thou
liest
.
’Tis
a
quick
lie
,
sir
;
’twill
away
again
from
me
to
you
.
What
man
dost
thou
dig
it
for
?
For
no
man
,
sir
.
What
woman
then
?
For
none
,
neither
.
Who
is
to
be
buried
in
’t
?
One
that
was
a
woman
,
sir
,
but
,
rest
her
soul
,
she’s
dead
.
How
absolute
the
knave
is
!
We
must
speak
by
the
card
,
or
equivocation
will
undo
us
.
By
the
Lord
,
Horatio
,
this
three
years
I
have
took
note
of
it
:
the
age
is
grown
so
picked
that
the
toe
of
the
peasant
comes
so
near
the
heel
of
the
courtier
,
he
galls
his
kibe
.
—
How
long
hast
thou
been
grave-maker
?
Of
all
the
days
i’
th’
year
,
I
came
to
’t
that
day
that
our
last
King
Hamlet
overcame
Fortinbras
.
How
long
is
that
since
?
Cannot
you
tell
that
?
Every
fool
can
tell
that
.
It
was
that
very
day
that
young
Hamlet
was
born
—
he
that
is
mad
,
and
sent
into
England
.
Ay
,
marry
,
why
was
he
sent
into
England
?
Why
,
because
he
was
mad
.
He
shall
recover
his
wits
there
.
Or
if
he
do
not
,
’tis
no
great
matter
there
.
Why
?
’Twill
not
be
seen
in
him
there
.
There
the
men
are
as
mad
as
he
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
How
came
he
mad
?
Very
strangely
,
they
say
.
How
strangely
?
Faith
,
e’en
with
losing
his
wits
.
Upon
what
ground
?
Why
,
here
in
Denmark
.
I
have
been
sexton
here
,
man
and
boy
,
thirty
years
.
How
long
will
a
man
lie
i’
th’
earth
ere
he
rot
?
Faith
,
if
he
be
not
rotten
before
he
die
(
as
we
have
many
pocky
corses
nowadays
that
will
scarce
hold
the
laying
in
)
,
he
will
last
you
some
eight
year
or
nine
year
.
A
tanner
will
last
you
nine
year
.
Why
he
more
than
another
?
Why
,
sir
,
his
hide
is
so
tanned
with
his
trade
that
he
will
keep
out
water
a
great
while
;
and
your
water
is
a
sore
decayer
of
your
whoreson
dead
body
.
Here’s
a
skull
now
hath
lien
you
i’
th’
earth
three-and-twenty
years
.
Whose
was
it
?
A
whoreson
mad
fellow’s
it
was
.
Whose
do
you
think
it
was
?
Nay
,
I
know
not
.
A
pestilence
on
him
for
a
mad
rogue
!
He
poured
a
flagon
of
Rhenish
on
my
head
once
.
This
same
skull
,
sir
,
was
,
sir
,
Yorick’s
skull
,
the
King’s
jester
.
This
?
E’en
that
.
,
taking
the
skull
Let
me
see
.
Alas
,
poor
Yorick
!
I
knew
him
,
Horatio
—
a
fellow
of
infinite
jest
,
of
most
excellent
fancy
.
He
hath
bore
me
on
his
back
a
thousand
times
,
and
now
how
abhorred
in
my
imagination
it
is
!
My
gorge
rises
at
it
.
Here
hung
those
lips
that
I
have
kissed
I
know
not
how
oft
.
Where
be
your
gibes
now
?
your
gambols
?
your
ACT 5. SC. 1
songs
?
your
flashes
of
merriment
that
were
wont
to
set
the
table
on
a
roar
?
Not
one
now
to
mock
your
own
grinning
?
Quite
chapfallen
?
Now
get
you
to
my
lady’s
chamber
,
and
tell
her
,
let
her
paint
an
inch
thick
,
to
this
favor
she
must
come
.
Make
her
laugh
at
that
.
—
Prithee
,
Horatio
,
tell
me
one
thing
.
What’s
that
,
my
lord
?
Dost
thou
think
Alexander
looked
o’
this
fashion
i’
th’
earth
?
E’en
so
.
And
smelt
so
?
Pah
!
He
puts
the
skull
down
.
E’en
so
,
my
lord
.
To
what
base
uses
we
may
return
,
Horatio
!
Why
may
not
imagination
trace
the
noble
dust
of
Alexander
till
he
find
it
stopping
a
bunghole
?
’Twere
to
consider
too
curiously
to
consider
so
.
No
,
faith
,
not
a
jot
;
but
to
follow
him
thither
,
with
modesty
enough
and
likelihood
to
lead
it
,
as
thus
:
Alexander
died
,
Alexander
was
buried
,
Alexander
returneth
to
dust
;
the
dust
is
earth
;
of
earth
we
make
loam
;
and
why
of
that
loam
whereto
he
was
converted
might
they
not
stop
a
beer
barrel
?
Imperious
Caesar
,
dead
and
turned
to
clay
,
Might
stop
a
hole
to
keep
the
wind
away
.
O
,
that
that
earth
which
kept
the
world
in
awe
Should
patch
a
wall
t’
expel
the
winter’s
flaw
!
Enter
King
,
Queen
,
Laertes
,
Lords
attendant
,
and
the
corpse
of
Ophelia
,
with
a
Doctor
of
Divinity
.
But
soft
,
but
soft
awhile
!
Here
comes
the
King
,
The
Queen
,
the
courtiers
.
Who
is
this
they
follow
?
And
with
such
maimèd
rites
?
This
doth
betoken
The
corse
they
follow
did
with
desp’rate
hand
Fordo
its
own
life
.
’Twas
of
some
estate
.
Couch
we
awhile
and
mark
.
They
step
aside
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
What
ceremony
else
?
That
is
Laertes
,
a
very
noble
youth
.
Mark
.
What
ceremony
else
?
Her
obsequies
have
been
as
far
enlarged
As
we
have
warranty
.
Her
death
was
doubtful
,
And
,
but
that
great
command
o’ersways
the
order
,
She
should
in
ground
unsanctified
been
lodged
Till
the
last
trumpet
.
For
charitable
prayers
Shards
,
flints
,
and
pebbles
should
be
thrown
on
her
.
Yet
here
she
is
allowed
her
virgin
crants
,
Her
maiden
strewments
,
and
the
bringing
home
Of
bell
and
burial
.
Must
there
no
more
be
done
?
No
more
be
done
.
We
should
profane
the
service
of
the
dead
To
sing
a
requiem
and
such
rest
to
her
As
to
peace-parted
souls
.
Lay
her
i’
th’
earth
,
And
from
her
fair
and
unpolluted
flesh
May
violets
spring
!
I
tell
thee
,
churlish
priest
,
A
minist’ring
angel
shall
my
sister
be
When
thou
liest
howling
.
,
to
Horatio
What
,
the
fair
Ophelia
?
Sweets
to
the
sweet
,
farewell
!
She
scatters
flowers
.
I
hoped
thou
shouldst
have
been
my
Hamlet’s
wife
;
I
thought
thy
bride-bed
to
have
decked
,
sweet
maid
,
And
not
have
strewed
thy
grave
.
O
,
treble
woe
Fall
ten
times
treble
on
that
cursèd
head
Whose
wicked
deed
thy
most
ingenious
sense
Deprived
thee
of
!
—
Hold
off
the
earth
awhile
,
Till
I
have
caught
her
once
more
in
mine
arms
.
Leaps
in
the
grave
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
Now
pile
your
dust
upon
the
quick
and
dead
,
Till
of
this
flat
a
mountain
you
have
made
T’
o’ertop
old
Pelion
or
the
skyish
head
Of
blue
Olympus
.
,
advancing
What
is
he
whose
grief
Bears
such
an
emphasis
,
whose
phrase
of
sorrow
Conjures
the
wand’ring
stars
and
makes
them
stand
Like
wonder-wounded
hearers
?
This
is
I
,
Hamlet
the
Dane
.
,
coming
out
of
the
grave
The
devil
take
thy
soul
!
Thou
pray’st
not
well
.
They
grapple
.
I
prithee
take
thy
fingers
from
my
throat
,
For
though
I
am
not
splenitive
and
rash
,
Yet
have
I
in
me
something
dangerous
,
Which
let
thy
wisdom
fear
.
Hold
off
thy
hand
.
Pluck
them
asunder
.
Hamlet
!
Hamlet
!
Gentlemen
!
Good
my
lord
,
be
quiet
.
Hamlet
and
Laertes
are
separated
.
Why
,
I
will
fight
with
him
upon
this
theme
Until
my
eyelids
will
no
longer
wag
!
O
my
son
,
what
theme
?
I
loved
Ophelia
.
Forty
thousand
brothers
Could
not
with
all
their
quantity
of
love
Make
up
my
sum
.
What
wilt
thou
do
for
her
?
O
,
he
is
mad
,
Laertes
!
For
love
of
God
,
forbear
him
.
’Swounds
,
show
me
what
thou
’t
do
.
Woo’t
weep
,
woo’t
fight
,
woo’t
fast
,
woo’t
tear
thyself
,
Woo’t
drink
up
eisel
,
eat
a
crocodile
?
ACT 5. SC. 1
I’ll
do
’t
.
Dost
thou
come
here
to
whine
?
To
outface
me
with
leaping
in
her
grave
?
Be
buried
quick
with
her
,
and
so
will
I
.
And
if
thou
prate
of
mountains
,
let
them
throw
Millions
of
acres
on
us
,
till
our
ground
,
Singeing
his
pate
against
the
burning
zone
,
Make
Ossa
like
a
wart
.
Nay
,
an
thou
’lt
mouth
,
I’ll
rant
as
well
as
thou
.
This
is
mere
madness
;
And
thus
awhile
the
fit
will
work
on
him
.
Anon
,
as
patient
as
the
female
dove
When
that
her
golden
couplets
are
disclosed
,
His
silence
will
sit
drooping
.
Hear
you
,
sir
,
What
is
the
reason
that
you
use
me
thus
?
I
loved
you
ever
.
But
it
is
no
matter
.
Let
Hercules
himself
do
what
he
may
,
The
cat
will
mew
,
and
dog
will
have
his
day
.
Hamlet
exits
.
I
pray
thee
,
good
Horatio
,
wait
upon
him
.
Horatio
exits
.
To
Laertes
.
Strengthen
your
patience
in
our
last
night’s
speech
.
We’ll
put
the
matter
to
the
present
push
.
—
Good
Gertrude
,
set
some
watch
over
your
son
.
—
This
grave
shall
have
a
living
monument
.
An
hour
of
quiet
thereby
shortly
shall
we
see
.
;
Till
then
in
patience
our
proceeding
be
.
They
exit
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Scene
2
Enter
Hamlet
and
Horatio
.
So
much
for
this
,
sir
.
Now
shall
you
see
the
other
.
You
do
remember
all
the
circumstance
?
Remember
it
,
my
lord
!
Sir
,
in
my
heart
there
was
a
kind
of
fighting
That
would
not
let
me
sleep
.
Methought
I
lay
Worse
than
the
mutines
in
the
bilboes
.
Rashly
—
And
praised
be
rashness
for
it
;
:
let
us
know
,
Our
indiscretion
sometime
serves
us
well
When
our
deep
plots
do
pall
;
and
that
should
learn
us
There’s
a
divinity
that
shapes
our
ends
,
Rough-hew
them
how
we
will
—
That
is
most
certain
.
Up
from
my
cabin
,
My
sea-gown
scarfed
about
me
,
in
the
dark
Groped
I
to
find
out
them
;
had
my
desire
,
Fingered
their
packet
,
and
in
fine
withdrew
To
mine
own
room
again
,
making
so
bold
(
My
fears
forgetting
manners
)
to
unfold
Their
grand
commission
;
where
I
found
,
Horatio
,
A
royal
knavery
—
an
exact
command
,
Larded
with
many
several
sorts
of
reasons
Importing
Denmark’s
health
and
England’s
too
,
With
—
ho
!
—
such
bugs
and
goblins
in
my
life
,
That
on
the
supervise
,
no
leisure
bated
,
No
,
not
to
stay
the
grinding
of
the
ax
,
My
head
should
be
struck
off
.
Is
’t
possible
?
Here’s
the
commission
.
Read
it
at
more
leisure
.
Handing
him
a
paper
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
But
wilt
thou
hear
now
how
I
did
proceed
?
I
beseech
you
.
Being
thus
benetted
round
with
villainies
,
Or
I
could
make
a
prologue
to
my
brains
,
They
had
begun
the
play
.
I
sat
me
down
,
Devised
a
new
commission
,
wrote
it
fair
—
I
once
did
hold
it
,
as
our
statists
do
,
A
baseness
to
write
fair
,
and
labored
much
How
to
forget
that
learning
;
but
,
sir
,
now
It
did
me
yeoman’s
service
.
Wilt
thou
know
Th’
effect
of
what
I
wrote
?
Ay
,
good
my
lord
.
An
earnest
conjuration
from
the
King
,
As
England
was
his
faithful
tributary
,
As
love
between
them
like
the
palm
might
flourish
,
As
peace
should
still
her
wheaten
garland
wear
And
stand
a
comma
’tween
their
amities
,
And
many
suchlike
as
es
of
great
charge
,
That
,
on
the
view
and
knowing
of
these
contents
,
Without
debatement
further
,
more
or
less
,
He
should
those
bearers
put
to
sudden
death
,
Not
shriving
time
allowed
.
How
was
this
sealed
?
Why
,
even
in
that
was
heaven
ordinant
.
I
had
my
father’s
signet
in
my
purse
,
Which
was
the
model
of
that
Danish
seal
;
Folded
the
writ
up
in
the
form
of
th’
other
,
Subscribed
it
,
gave
’t
th’
impression
,
placed
it
safely
,
The
changeling
never
known
.
Now
,
the
next
day
Was
our
sea-fight
;
and
what
to
this
was
sequent
Thou
knowest
already
.
So
Guildenstern
and
Rosencrantz
go
to
’t
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Why
,
man
,
they
did
make
love
to
this
employment
.
They
are
not
near
my
conscience
.
Their
defeat
Does
by
their
own
insinuation
grow
.
’Tis
dangerous
when
the
baser
nature
comes
Between
the
pass
and
fell
incensèd
points
Of
mighty
opposites
.
Why
,
what
a
king
is
this
!
Does
it
not
,
think
thee
,
stand
me
now
upon
—
He
that
hath
killed
my
king
and
whored
my
mother
,
Popped
in
between
th’
election
and
my
hopes
,
Thrown
out
his
angle
for
my
proper
life
,
And
with
such
cozenage
—
is
’t
not
perfect
conscience
To
quit
him
with
this
arm
?
And
is
’t
not
to
be
damned
To
let
this
canker
of
our
nature
come
In
further
evil
?
It
must
be
shortly
known
to
him
from
England
What
is
the
issue
of
the
business
there
.
It
will
be
short
.
The
interim’s
mine
,
And
a
man’s
life’s
no
more
than
to
say
one
.
But
I
am
very
sorry
,
good
Horatio
,
That
to
Laertes
I
forgot
myself
,
For
by
the
image
of
my
cause
I
see
The
portraiture
of
his
.
I’ll
court
his
favors
.
But
,
sure
,
the
bravery
of
his
grief
did
put
me
Into
a
tow’ring
passion
.
Peace
,
who
comes
here
?
Enter
Osric
,
a
courtier
.
Your
Lordship
lordship
is
right
welcome
back
to
Denmark
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
I
humbly
thank
you
,
sir
.
Aside
to
Horatio
.
Dost
know
this
waterfly
?
,
aside
to
Hamlet
No
,
my
good
lord
.
,
aside
to
Horatio
Thy
state
is
the
more
gracious
,
for
’tis
a
vice
to
know
him
.
He
hath
much
land
,
and
fertile
.
Let
a
beast
be
lord
of
beasts
and
his
crib
shall
stand
at
the
king’s
mess
.
’Tis
a
chough
,
but
,
as
I
say
,
spacious
in
the
possession
of
dirt
.
Sweet
lord
,
if
your
Lordship
lordship
were
at
leisure
,
I
should
impart
a
thing
to
you
from
his
Majesty
.
I
will
receive
it
,
sir
,
with
all
diligence
of
spirit
.
Put
your
bonnet
to
his
right
use
:
’tis
for
the
head
.
I
thank
your
Lordship
lordship
;
it
is
very
hot
.
No
,
believe
me
,
’tis
very
cold
;
the
wind
is
northerly
.
It
is
indifferent
cold
,
my
lord
,
indeed
.
But
yet
methinks
it
is
very
sultry
and
hot
for
my
complexion
.
Exceedingly
,
my
lord
;
it
is
very
sultry
,
as
’twere
—
I
cannot
tell
how
.
My
lord
,
his
Majesty
bade
me
signify
to
you
that
he
has
laid
a
great
wager
on
your
head
.
Sir
,
this
is
the
matter
—
I
beseech
you
,
remember
.
He
motions
to
Osric
to
put
on
his
hat
.
Nay
,
good
my
lord
,
for
my
ease
,
in
good
faith
.
Sir
,
here
is
newly
come
to
court
Laertes
—
believe
me
,
an
absolute
gentleman
,
full
of
most
excellent
differences
,
of
very
soft
society
and
great
showing
.
Indeed
,
to
speak
feelingly
of
him
,
he
is
the
card
or
calendar
of
gentry
,
for
you
shall
find
in
him
the
continent
of
what
part
a
gentleman
would
see
.
Sir
,
his
definement
suffers
no
perdition
in
you
,
though
I
know
to
divide
him
inventorially
would
dozy
th’
arithmetic
of
memory
,
and
yet
but
yaw
neither
,
in
respect
of
his
quick
sail
.
But
,
in
the
ACT 5. SC. 2
verity
of
extolment
,
I
take
him
to
be
a
soul
of
great
article
,
and
his
infusion
of
such
dearth
and
rareness
as
,
to
make
true
diction
of
him
,
his
semblable
is
his
mirror
,
and
who
else
would
trace
him
,
his
umbrage
,
nothing
more
.
Your
Lordship
lordship
speaks
most
infallibly
of
him
.
The
concernancy
,
sir
?
Why
do
we
wrap
the
gentleman
in
our
more
rawer
breath
?
Sir
?
,
aside
to
Hamlet
Is
’t
not
possible
to
understand
in
another
tongue
?
You
will
to
’t
,
sir
,
really
.
,
to
Osric
What
imports
the
nomination
of
this
gentleman
?
Of
Laertes
?
,
aside
His
purse
is
empty
already
;
all
’s
golden
words
are
spent
.
Of
him
,
sir
.
I
know
you
are
not
ignorant
—
I
would
you
did
,
sir
.
Yet
,
in
faith
,
if
you
did
,
it
would
not
much
approve
me
.
Well
,
sir
?
You
are
not
ignorant
of
what
excellence
Laertes
is
—
I
dare
not
confess
that
,
lest
I
should
compare
with
him
in
excellence
.
But
to
know
a
man
well
were
to
know
himself
.
I
mean
,
sir
,
for
his
weapon
.
But
in
the
imputation
laid
on
him
by
them
,
in
his
meed
he’s
unfellowed
.
What’s
his
weapon
?
Rapier
and
dagger
.
That’s
two
of
his
weapons
.
But
,
well
—
The
King
,
sir
,
hath
wagered
with
him
six
Barbary
horses
,
against
the
which
he
has
impawned
,
as
I
take
it
,
six
French
rapiers
and
poniards
,
with
their
assigns
,
as
girdle
,
hangers
,
and
so
.
Three
of
the
carriages
,
in
faith
,
are
very
dear
to
fancy
,
very
ACT 5. SC. 2
responsive
to
the
hilts
,
most
delicate
carriages
,
and
of
very
liberal
conceit
.
What
call
you
the
carriages
?
,
aside
to
Hamlet
I
knew
you
must
be
edified
by
the
margent
ere
you
had
done
.
The
carriages
,
sir
,
are
the
hangers
.
The
phrase
would
be
more
germane
to
the
matter
if
we
could
carry
a
cannon
by
our
sides
.
I
would
it
might
be
hangers
till
then
.
But
on
.
Six
Barbary
horses
against
six
French
swords
,
their
assigns
,
and
three
liberal-conceited
carriages
—
that’s
the
French
bet
against
the
Danish
.
Why
is
this
all
impawned
,
as
you
call
it
?
The
King
,
sir
,
hath
laid
,
sir
,
that
in
a
dozen
passes
between
yourself
and
him
,
he
shall
not
exceed
you
three
hits
.
He
hath
laid
on
twelve
for
nine
,
and
it
would
come
to
immediate
trial
if
your
Lordship
lordship
would
vouchsafe
the
answer
.
How
if
I
answer
no
?
I
mean
,
my
lord
,
the
opposition
of
your
person
in
trial
.
Sir
,
I
will
walk
here
in
the
hall
.
If
it
please
his
Majesty
,
it
is
the
breathing
time
of
day
with
me
.
Let
the
foils
be
brought
,
the
gentleman
willing
,
and
the
King
hold
his
purpose
,
I
will
win
for
him
,
an
I
can
.
If
not
,
I
will
gain
nothing
but
my
shame
and
the
odd
hits
.
Shall
I
deliver
you
e’en
so
?
To
this
effect
,
sir
,
after
what
flourish
your
nature
will
.
I
commend
my
duty
to
your
Lordship
lordship
.
Yours
.
Osric
exits
.
He
does
well
to
commend
it
himself
.
There
are
no
tongues
else
for
’s
turn
.
This
lapwing
runs
away
with
the
shell
on
his
head
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
He
did
comply
,
sir
,
with
his
dug
before
he
sucked
it
.
Thus
has
he
(
and
many
more
of
the
same
breed
that
I
know
the
drossy
age
dotes
on
)
only
got
the
tune
of
the
time
,
and
,
out
of
an
habit
of
encounter
,
a
kind
of
yeasty
collection
,
which
carries
them
through
and
through
the
most
fanned
and
winnowed
opinions
;
and
do
but
blow
them
to
their
trial
,
the
bubbles
are
out
.
Enter
a
Lord
.
My
lord
,
his
Majesty
commended
him
to
you
by
young
Osric
,
who
brings
back
to
him
that
you
attend
him
in
the
hall
.
He
sends
to
know
if
your
pleasure
hold
to
play
with
Laertes
,
or
that
you
will
take
longer
time
.
I
am
constant
to
my
purposes
.
They
follow
the
King’s
pleasure
.
If
his
fitness
speaks
,
mine
is
ready
now
or
whensoever
,
provided
I
be
so
able
as
now
.
The
King
and
Queen
and
all
are
coming
down
.
In
happy
time
.
The
Queen
desires
you
to
use
some
gentle
entertainment
to
Laertes
before
you
fall
to
play
.
She
well
instructs
me
.
Lord
exits
.
You
will
lose
,
my
lord
.
I
do
not
think
so
.
Since
he
went
into
France
,
I
have
been
in
continual
practice
.
I
shall
win
at
the
odds
;
but
thou
wouldst
not
think
how
ill
all’s
here
about
my
heart
.
But
it
is
no
matter
.
Nay
,
good
my
lord
—
It
is
but
foolery
,
but
it
is
such
a
kind
of
gaingiving
as
would
perhaps
trouble
a
woman
.
If
your
mind
dislike
anything
,
obey
it
.
I
will
forestall
their
repair
hither
and
say
you
are
not
fit
.
Not
a
whit
.
We
defy
augury
.
There
is
a
special
providence
in
the
fall
of
a
sparrow
.
If
it
be
now
,
’tis
not
to
come
;
if
it
be
not
to
come
,
it
will
be
ACT 5. SC. 2
now
;
if
it
be
not
now
,
yet
it
will
come
.
The
readiness
is
all
.
Since
no
man
of
aught
he
leaves
knows
,
what
is
’t
to
leave
betimes
?
Let
be
.
A
table
prepared
.
Enter
Trumpets
,
Drums
,
and
Officers
with
cushions
,
King
,
Queen
,
Osric
,
and
all
the
state
,
foils
,
daggers
,
flagons
of
wine
,
and
Laertes
.
Come
,
Hamlet
,
come
and
take
this
hand
from
me
.
He
puts
Laertes’
hand
into
Hamlet’s
.
,
to
Laertes
Give
me
your
pardon
,
sir
.
I
have
done
you
wrong
;
But
pardon
’t
as
you
are
a
gentleman
.
This
presence
knows
,
And
you
must
needs
have
heard
,
how
I
am
punished
With
a
sore
distraction
.
What
I
have
done
That
might
your
nature
,
honor
,
and
exception
Roughly
awake
,
I
here
proclaim
was
madness
.
Was
’t
Hamlet
wronged
Laertes
?
Never
Hamlet
.
If
Hamlet
from
himself
be
ta’en
away
,
And
when
he’s
not
himself
does
wrong
Laertes
,
Then
Hamlet
does
it
not
;
Hamlet
denies
it
.
Who
does
it
,
then
?
His
madness
.
If
’t
be
so
,
Hamlet
is
of
the
faction
that
is
wronged
;
His
madness
is
poor
Hamlet’s
enemy
.
Sir
,
in
this
audience
Let
my
disclaiming
from
a
purposed
evil
Free
me
so
far
in
your
most
generous
thoughts
That
I
have
shot
my
arrow
o’er
the
house
And
hurt
my
brother
.
I
am
satisfied
in
nature
,
Whose
motive
in
this
case
should
stir
me
most
To
my
revenge
;
but
in
my
terms
of
honor
I
stand
aloof
and
will
no
reconcilement
Till
by
some
elder
masters
of
known
honor
I
have
a
voice
and
precedent
of
peace
To
keep
my
name
ungored
.
But
till
that
time
ACT 5. SC. 2
I
do
receive
your
offered
love
like
love
And
will
not
wrong
it
.
I
embrace
it
freely
And
will
this
brothers’
wager
frankly
play
.
—
Give
us
the
foils
.
Come
on
.
Come
,
one
for
me
.
I’ll
be
your
foil
,
Laertes
;
in
mine
ignorance
Your
skill
shall
,
like
a
star
i’
th’
darkest
night
,
Stick
fiery
off
indeed
.
You
mock
me
,
sir
.
No
,
by
this
hand
.
Give
them
the
foils
,
young
Osric
.
Cousin
Hamlet
,
You
know
the
wager
?
Very
well
,
my
lord
.
Your
Grace
has
laid
the
odds
o’
th’
weaker
side
.
I
do
not
fear
it
;
I
have
seen
you
both
.
But
,
since
he
is
better
,
we
have
therefore
odds
.
This
is
too
heavy
.
Let
me
see
another
.
This
likes
me
well
.
These
foils
have
all
a
length
?
Ay
,
my
good
lord
.
Prepare
to
play
.
Set
me
the
stoups
of
wine
upon
that
table
.
—
If
Hamlet
give
the
first
or
second
hit
Or
quit
in
answer
of
the
third
exchange
,
Let
all
the
battlements
their
ordnance
fire
.
The
King
shall
drink
to
Hamlet’s
better
breath
,
And
in
the
cup
an
union
shall
he
throw
,
Richer
than
that
which
four
successive
kings
In
Denmark’s
crown
have
worn
.
Give
me
the
cups
,
ACT 5. SC. 2
And
let
the
kettle
to
the
trumpet
speak
,
The
trumpet
to
the
cannoneer
without
,
The
cannons
to
the
heavens
,
the
heaven
to
earth
,
Now
the
King
drinks
to
Hamlet
.
Come
,
begin
.
And
you
,
the
judges
,
bear
a
wary
eye
.
Trumpets
the
while
.
Come
on
,
sir
.
Come
,
my
lord
.
They
play
.
One
.
No
.
Judgment
!
A
hit
,
a
very
palpable
hit
.
Well
,
again
.
Stay
,
give
me
drink
.
—
Hamlet
,
this
pearl
is
thine
.
Here’s
to
thy
health
.
He
drinks
and
then
drops
the
pearl
in
the
cup
.
Drum
,
trumpets
,
and
shot
.
Give
him
the
cup
.
I’ll
play
this
bout
first
.
Set
it
by
awhile
.
Come
.
They
play
.
Another
hit
.
What
say
you
?
A
touch
,
a
touch
.
I
do
confess
’t
.
Our
son
shall
win
.
He’s
fat
and
scant
of
breath
.
—
Here
,
Hamlet
,
take
my
napkin
;
rub
thy
brows
.
The
Queen
carouses
to
thy
fortune
,
Hamlet
.
She
lifts
the
cup
.
Good
madam
.
Gertrude
,
do
not
drink
.
I
will
,
my
lord
;
I
pray
you
pardon
me
.
She
drinks
.
,
aside
It
is
the
poisoned
cup
.
It
is
too
late
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
I
dare
not
drink
yet
,
madam
—
by
and
by
.
Come
,
let
me
wipe
thy
face
.
,
to
Claudius
My
lord
,
I’ll
hit
him
now
.
I
do
not
think
’t
.
,
aside
And
yet
it
is
almost
against
my
conscience
.
Come
,
for
the
third
,
Laertes
.
You
do
but
dally
.
I
pray
you
pass
with
your
best
violence
.
I
am
afeard
you
make
a
wanton
of
me
.
Say
you
so
?
Come
on
.
Play
.
Nothing
neither
way
.
Have
at
you
now
!
Laertes
wounds
Hamlet
.
Then
in
scuffling
they
change
rapiers
,
and
Hamlet
wounds
Laertes
.
Part
them
.
They
are
incensed
.
Nay
,
come
again
.
The
Queen
falls
.
Look
to
the
Queen
there
,
ho
!
They
bleed
on
both
sides
.
—
How
is
it
,
my
lord
?
How
is
’t
,
Laertes
?
Why
as
a
woodcock
to
mine
own
springe
,
Osric
.
He
falls
.
I
am
justly
killed
with
mine
own
treachery
.
How
does
the
Queen
?
She
swoons
to
see
them
bleed
.
No
,
no
,
the
drink
,
the
drink
!
O
,
my
dear
Hamlet
!
The
drink
,
the
drink
!
I
am
poisoned
.
She
dies
.
O
villainy
!
Ho
!
Let
the
door
be
locked
.
Osric
exits
.
Treachery
!
Seek
it
out
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
It
is
here
,
Hamlet
.
Hamlet
,
thou
art
slain
.
No
med’cine
in
the
world
can
do
thee
good
.
In
thee
there
is
not
half
an
hour’s
life
.
The
treacherous
instrument
is
in
thy
hand
,
Unbated
and
envenomed
.
The
foul
practice
Hath
turned
itself
on
me
.
Lo
,
here
I
lie
,
Never
to
rise
again
.
Thy
mother’s
poisoned
.
I
can
no
more
.
The
King
,
the
King’s
to
blame
.
The
point
envenomed
too
!
Then
,
venom
,
to
thy
work
.
Hurts
the
King
.
Treason
,
treason
!
O
,
yet
defend
me
,
friends
!
I
am
but
hurt
.
Here
,
thou
incestuous
,
murd’rous
,
damnèd
Dane
,
Drink
off
this
potion
.
Is
thy
union
here
?
Forcing
him
to
drink
the
poison
.
Follow
my
mother
.
King
dies
.
He
is
justly
served
.
It
is
a
poison
tempered
by
himself
.
Exchange
forgiveness
with
me
,
noble
Hamlet
.
Mine
and
my
father’s
death
come
not
upon
thee
,
Nor
thine
on
me
.
Dies
.
Heaven
make
thee
free
of
it
.
I
follow
thee
.
—
I
am
dead
,
Horatio
.
—
Wretched
queen
,
adieu
.
—
You
that
look
pale
and
tremble
at
this
chance
,
That
are
but
mutes
or
audience
to
this
act
,
Had
I
but
time
(
as
this
fell
sergeant
,
Death
,
Is
strict
in
his
arrest
)
,
O
,
I
could
tell
you
—
But
let
it
be
.
—
Horatio
,
I
am
dead
.
Thou
livest
;
report
me
and
my
cause
aright
To
the
unsatisfied
.
Never
believe
it
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
I
am
more
an
antique
Roman
than
a
Dane
.
Here’s
yet
some
liquor
left
.
He
picks
up
the
cup
.
As
thou
’rt
a
man
,
Give
me
the
cup
.
Let
go
!
By
heaven
,
I’ll
ha
’t
.
O
God
,
Horatio
,
what
a
wounded
name
,
Things
standing
thus
unknown
,
shall
I
leave
behind
me
!
If
thou
didst
ever
hold
me
in
thy
heart
,
Absent
thee
from
felicity
awhile
And
in
this
harsh
world
draw
thy
breath
in
pain
To
tell
my
story
.
A
march
afar
off
and
shot
within
.
What
warlike
noise
is
this
?
Enter
Osric
.
Young
Fortinbras
,
with
conquest
come
from
Poland
,
To
th’
ambassadors
of
England
gives
This
warlike
volley
.
O
,
I
die
,
Horatio
!
The
potent
poison
quite
o’ercrows
my
spirit
.
I
cannot
live
to
hear
the
news
from
England
.
But
I
do
prophesy
th’
election
lights
On
Fortinbras
;
he
has
my
dying
voice
.
So
tell
him
,
with
th’
occurrents
,
more
and
less
,
Which
have
solicited
—
the
rest
is
silence
.
O
,
O
,
O
,
O
!
Dies
.
Now
cracks
a
noble
heart
.
Good
night
,
sweet
prince
,
And
flights
of
angels
sing
thee
to
thy
rest
.
March
within
.
Why
does
the
drum
come
hither
?
Enter
Fortinbras
with
the
English
Ambassadors
with
Drum
,
Colors
,
and
Attendants
.
Where
is
this
sight
?
ACT 5. SC. 2
What
is
it
you
would
see
?
If
aught
of
woe
or
wonder
,
cease
your
search
.
This
quarry
cries
on
havoc
.
O
proud
Death
,
What
feast
is
toward
in
thine
eternal
cell
That
thou
so
many
princes
at
a
shot
So
bloodily
hast
struck
?
The
sight
is
dismal
,
And
our
affairs
from
England
come
too
late
.
The
ears
are
senseless
that
should
give
us
hearing
To
tell
him
his
commandment
is
fulfilled
,
That
Rosencrantz
and
Guildenstern
are
dead
.
Where
should
we
have
our
thanks
?
Not
from
his
mouth
,
Had
it
th’
ability
of
life
to
thank
you
.
He
never
gave
commandment
for
their
death
.
But
since
,
so
jump
upon
this
bloody
question
,
You
from
the
Polack
wars
,
and
you
from
England
,
Are
here
arrived
,
give
order
that
these
bodies
High
on
a
stage
be
placed
to
the
view
,
And
let
me
speak
to
th’
yet
unknowing
world
How
these
things
came
about
.
So
shall
you
hear
Of
carnal
,
bloody
,
and
unnatural
acts
,
Of
accidental
judgments
,
casual
slaughters
,
Of
deaths
put
on
by
cunning
and
forced
cause
,
And
,
in
this
upshot
,
purposes
mistook
Fall’n
on
th’
inventors’
heads
.
All
this
can
I
Truly
deliver
.
Let
us
haste
to
hear
it
And
call
the
noblest
to
the
audience
.
For
me
,
with
sorrow
I
embrace
my
fortune
.
I
have
some
rights
of
memory
in
this
kingdom
,
Which
now
to
claim
my
vantage
doth
invite
me
.
Of
that
I
shall
have
also
cause
to
speak
,
ACT 5. SC. 2
And
from
his
mouth
whose
voice
will
draw
on
more
.
But
let
this
same
be
presently
performed
Even
while
men’s
minds
are
wild
,
lest
more
mischance
On
plots
and
errors
happen
.
Let
four
captains
Bear
Hamlet
like
a
soldier
to
the
stage
,
For
he
was
likely
,
had
he
been
put
on
,
To
have
proved
most
royal
;
and
for
his
passage
,
The
soldier’s
music
and
the
rite
of
war
Speak
loudly
for
him
.
Take
up
the
bodies
.
Such
a
sight
as
this
Becomes
the
field
but
here
shows
much
amiss
.
Go
,
bid
the
soldiers
shoot
.
They
exit
,
marching
,
after
the
which
,
a
peal
of
ordnance
are
shot
off
.
all or part of a full metrical line
all or part of a prose speech
a short line which cannot be joined with other lines to form a full metrical line, or which may not be definitively identified as verse or prose
editorial emendation
text from the Folio not found in the Second Quarto
lines from the Second Quarto not found in the Folio
4 line unit; 2nd and 4th lines indented
5 line unit; 3rd and 4th lines indented
5 line unit; 3rd and 4th lines indented