Hamlet

Enter Francisco and Barnardo, two sentinels.

BARNARDOWho's there?

FRANCISCONay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself.

BARNARDOLong live the King!

FRANCISCOBarnardo?

BARNARDOHe.

FRANCISCOYou come most carefully on your hour.

BARNARDO'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed, Francisco.

FRANCISCOFor this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart.

BARNARDOHave you had quiet guard?

FRANCISCONot a mouse stirring.

BARNARDOWell, good night. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

FRANCISCOI think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who is there?

HORATIOFriends to this ground.

MARCELLUSAnd liegemen to the Dane.

FRANCISCOGive you good night.

MARCELLUSO, farewell, honest soldier, who hath reliev'd you?

FRANCISCOBarnardo has my place. Give you good-night.

[Exit.]

MARCELLUSHolla, Barnardo!

BARNARDOSay, what, is Horatio there?

HORATIOA piece of him.

BARNARDOWelcome, Horatio. Welcome, good Marcellus.

MARCELLUSWhat, has this thing appear'd again tonight?

BARNARDOI have seen nothing.

MARCELLUSHoratio 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.

HORATIOTush, tush, 'twill not appear.

BARNARDOSit down awhile, And let us once again assail your ears, That are so fortified against our story, What we two nights have seen.

HORATIOWell, sit we down, And let us hear Barnardo speak of this.

BARNARDOLast 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—

MARCELLUSPeace, break thee off. Look where it comes again.

Enter Ghost.

BARNARDOIn the same figure, like the King that's dead.

MARCELLUSThou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.

BARNARDOLooks it not like the King? Mark it, Horatio.

HORATIOMost like. It harrows me with fear and wonder.

BARNARDOIt would be spoke to.

MARCELLUSQuestion it, Horatio.

HORATIOWhat 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.

MARCELLUSIt is offended.

BARNARDOSee, it stalks away.

HORATIOStay! speak, speak! I charge thee speak!

[Exit Ghost.]

MARCELLUS'Tis gone, and will not answer.

BARNARDOHow now, Horatio! You tremble and look pale. Is not this something more than fantasy? What think you on't?

HORATIOBefore my God, I might not this believe Without the sensible and true avouch Of mine own eyes.

MARCELLUSIs it not like the King?

HORATIOAs thou art to thyself: Such was the very armour he had on When he th'ambitious Norway combated; So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice. 'Tis strange.

MARCELLUSThus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.

HORATIOIn what particular thought to work I know not; But in the gross and scope of my opinion, This bodes some strange eruption to our state.

MARCELLUSGood 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-labourer with the day: Who is't that can inform me?

HORATIOThat can I; At least, the whisper goes so. Our last King, Whose image even but now appear'd to us, Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway, Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride, Dar'd to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet, For so this side of our known world esteem'd him, Did slay this Fortinbras; who by a seal'd compact, Well ratified by law and heraldry, Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands Which he stood seiz'd of, to the conqueror; Against the which, a moiety competent Was gaged by our King; which had return'd To the inheritance of Fortinbras, Had he been vanquisher; as by the same cov'nant And carriage of the article design'd, His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras, Of unimproved mettle, hot and full, Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there, Shark'd 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 post-haste and rummage in the land.

BARNARDOI think it be no other but e'en so: Well may it sort that this portentous figure Comes armed through our watch so like the King That was and is the question of these wars.

HORATIOA 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, On whose influence Neptune's empire stands, Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse. And even the like precurse of fierce events, As harbingers preceding still the fates And prologue to the omen coming on, Have heaven and earth together demonstrated Unto our climatures and countrymen.

Re-enter Ghost. But, soft, behold! Lo, where it comes again! I'll cross it, though it blast me. Stay, illusion! 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. Stay, and speak! [The cock crows.] Stop it, Marcellus!

MARCELLUSShall I strike at it with my partisan?

HORATIODo, if it will not stand.

BARNARDO'Tis here!

HORATIO'Tis here!

[Exit Ghost.]

MARCELLUS'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.

BARNARDOIt was about to speak, when the cock crew.

HORATIOAnd then it started, like a guilty thing On a fearful summons. I have heard The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat Awake the god of day; and at his warning, Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, Th'extravagant and erring spirit hies To his confine. And of the truth herein This present object made probation.

MARCELLUSIt faded on the crowing of the cock. Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The 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 hallow'd and so gracious is the time.

HORATIOSo 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 on 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?

MARCELLUSLet's do't, I pray, and I this morning know Where we shall find him most conveniently.

[Exeunt.]

Enter Claudius King of Denmark, Gertrude the Queen, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, Voltemand, Cornelius, Lords and Attendant.

KINGThough 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 one auspicious and one dropping eye, With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage, In equal scale weighing delight and dole, Taken to wife; nor have we herein barr'd Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone With this affair along. For all, our thanks. Now follows, that you know young Fortinbras, Holding a weak supposal of our worth, Or thinking by our late dear brother's death Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, Colleagued with this dream of his advantage, He hath not fail'd 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 bed-rid, scarcely hears 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. Farewell; and let your haste commend your duty. CORNELIUS and VOLTEMAND. In that, and all things, will we show our duty.

KINGWe doubt it nothing: heartily farewell.

[Exeunt Voltemand and Cornelius.] And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? You told us of some suit. What is't, Laertes? You cannot speak of reason to the Dane, And lose your voice. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes, That shall not be my offer, not thy asking? The head is not more native to the heart, The hand more instrumental to the mouth, Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. What wouldst thou have, Laertes?

LAERTESDread my lord, Your leave and favour 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.

KINGHave you your father's leave? What says Polonius?

POLONIUSHe hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave By laboursome petition; and at last On his will I seal'd my hard consent. I do beseech you give him leave to go.

KINGTake thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine, And thy best graces spend it at thy will! But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son—

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

KINGHow is it that the clouds still hang on you?

HAMLETNot so, my lord, I am too much i' the sun.

QUEENGood Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. Do not for ever with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust. Thou know'st 'tis common, all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity.

HAMLETAy, madam, it is common.

QUEENIf it be, Why seems it so particular with thee?

HAMLETSeems, 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 forc'd breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, moods, shows of grief, That can denote me truly. These indeed seem, For they are actions that a man might play; But I have that within which passeth show; These but the trappings and the suits of woe.

KING'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, To give these mourning duties to your father; But you must know, your father lost a father, That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound In filial obligation, for some term To do obsequious sorrow. But to persevere In obstinate 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 unschool'd; 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.

QUEENLet not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet. I pray thee stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.

HAMLETI shall in all my best obey you, madam.

KINGWhy, 'tis a loving and a fair reply. Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come; This gentle and unforc'd 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, Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.

[Exeunt all but Hamlet.]

HAMLETO that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter. O God! O God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! Oh 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! 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 Like Niobe, all tears.—Why she, even she— O God! A beast that wants discourse of reason Would have mourn'd longer,—married with mine 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 galled 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.

HORATIOHail to your lordship!

HAMLETI am glad to see you well: Horatio, or I do forget myself.

HORATIOThe same, my lord, And your poor servant ever.

HAMLETSir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you: And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?— Marcellus?

MARCELLUSMy good lord.

HAMLETI am very glad to see you.—Good even, sir.— But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?

HORATIOA truant disposition, good my lord.

HAMLETI 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.

HORATIOMy lord, I came to see your father's funeral.