The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

patient: but I cannot choose but weep, to think,
they should lay him i'the cold ground; my bro-
ther 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.
[exit.
King. Follow her close; give her good watch,
I pray you.
[exit Horatio.
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,
Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and
whispers,

[greenly,

For good Polonius's death; and we have done but
In hugger-mugger to inter him. Poor Ophelia
Divided from herself, and her fair judgement;
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 the 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 beggar'd,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering piece, in many places
Gives me superfluous death! [a noise within.
Queen. Alack! what noise is this?
Enter a Gentleman.

King. Attend.

Where are my Switzers? let them guard the door: What is the matter?

Gent. Save yourself, my lord;
The ocean, overpeering of his list,

Eats not the flats with more impetuous 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!' [cry!
Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail they
O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs.
King. The doors are broke. [noise within.
Enter Laertes, armed, Danes following.
Laer. Where is the king?-Sirs, stand you all
Dan. No, let's come in.

[without.

Laer. I pray you, give me leave. [door. Dan. We will, we will. [they retire without the Laer. I thank you :-keep the door.-O thou Give me my father. [vile king, Queen. Calmly, good Laertes. [me bastard; Laer. That drop of blood that's calm proclaims Cries, cuckold, to my father; brands the harlot Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow Of my true mother.

King. 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 reason can but peep to what it would,
Acts little of his will.-Tell me, Laertes,
Why thou art thus incens'd?-Let him go, Ger-
Speak, man.
[trude ;-

Laer. Where is my father?
King. Dead.

Queen. But not by him.
King. Let him demand his fill.

[with:
Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled
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 be reveng'd
Most throughly for my father.

King. Who shall stay you?

Laer. My will, not all the world's : And, for my means, I'll husband them so well, They shall go far with little.

King. Will you know them then? [my arms;
Laer. To his good friends thus wide I'll ope
And, like the kind life-rend'ring pelican,
Repast them with my blood.

King. Why, now you speak
Like a good child, and a true gentleman.
That I am guiltless of your father's death,
And am most sensible in grief for it,
It shall as level to your judgement. 'pear,
As day does to your eye.

Danes. [within] Let her come in.

Laer. How now! what noise is that? Enter Ophelia, fantastically dressed with straws and flowers.

O heat, dry up my brains! tears, seven times salt,
Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!—
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.

Oph. They bore him barefac'd on the bier ;
Hey no nonny, nonny hey nonny :
And in his grave rain'd many a tear;
Fare you well, my dove!
[revenge,
Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade
It could not move thus.

Oph. You must sing, 'down a-down, an you call him a-down-a.' O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter.

Laer. This nothing's more than matter.

Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.

Lacr. A document in madness; thoughts and remembrance fitted.

Oph. 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 may | And do't the speedier, that you may direct me wear your rue with a difference. To him from whom you brought them.

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,

For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. [sings.
Laer. Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
She turns to favour, and to prettiness.
Oph. And will he not come again?

And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead.

Go to thy death-bed,

He never will come again.

His beard was as white as snow,

All flaxen was his poll:

Muse He is gone, he is gone,

And we cast away moan; ?
God 'a mercy on his soul!

[sings.

And of all Christian souls! I pray God. God be
wi' you!
[exit Ophelia.
Laer. Do you see this, O God!
King. 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 touch'd, 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 labour with your soul,
To give it due content.

Laer. 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 carth,
That I must call❜t in question.

shall;

King. So you And, where the le offence is, let the great axe fall. ay you, gov with me.

pray

[exeunt.

SCENE VI. ANOTHER ROOM IN THE SAME.

Enter Horatio, and a Servant.

SCENE VII. ANOTHER ROOM IN THE SAME.

Enter King and Laertes.

King. Now must your conscience my acquittance And you must put me in your heart for friend ;[seal, Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear, That he, which hath your noble father slain, Pursu'd my life.

Laer. It well appears.. -But tell me,

Why you proceeded not against these feats,
So crimeful and so capital in nature,

As by your safety, greatness, wisdom, all things else,
You mainly were stirr'd up?

King. O, for two special reasons ;
Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd,
But yet to me they are strong. The queen, his
Lives almost by his looks; and for myself, [mother,
(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 timber'd for so loud a wind,
Would have reverted to my bow again,
And not where I had aim'd them.

Laer. And so have I a noble father lost;
A sister driven into desperate 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.
King. 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:

Hor. What are they, that would speak with me? I loved your father, and we love ourself;
Ser. Sailors, sir;

They say, they have letters for you.

[exit Servant.

Hor. Let them come in.-
I do not know from what part of the world
I should be greeted, if not from lord Hamlet.
Enter Sailors.

1 Sail. God bless you, sir.
Hor. Let him bless thee too.

1 Sail. He shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for you, sir; it comes from the ambassador, that was bound for England; if your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is.

Hor. (reads) 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 valour; 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 haste 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 you 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. Come, I will give you way for these your letters;

Mess. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet:
This to your majesty; this to the queen.

Kiny. From Hamlet! who brought them?
Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say: I saw them not;
They were given me by Claudio; he received then
Of him that brought them.

King. Laertes, you shall hear them :— Leave us. [exit Messenger.

(reads) High and mighty, you shall know, I am set naked on your kingdom. To-morrow 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 HAMLET.

return.

King. If it be so, Laertes,

As how should it be so?-how otherwise?— Will you be rul'd by me?

Laer. Ay, my lord;

So you will not o'er-rule me to a peace.

King. To thine own peace. If he be now return'd,-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.

Laer. My lord, I will be rul'd;

The rather, if you could devise it so,
That I might be the organ.

King. It falls right.

You have been talk'd or 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 d that one; and that, in my regard,
Of the unworthiest siege.

Laer. What part is that, my lord?
King. A very ribband 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
Here was a gentleman of Normandy,- [since,
I have seen myself, and serv'd against, the French,
And they can well on horseback: but this gallant
Had witchcraft in't; he grew unto his seat;
And to such wond'rous doing brought his horse,
As he had been incorps'd and demi-natur'd
With the brave beast: so far he topp'd my thought,
That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks,

Come short of what he did.

Laer. A Norman, was't?

King. A Norman.

Laer. Upon my life, Lamord.

King. The very same.

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
And hath abatements and delays as many, [changes,
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 o'the ulcer
Hamlet comes back; what would you undertake.
To show yourself indeed your father's son,
More than in words?

[rize

Laer. To cut his throat i'the church. King. No place, indeed, should murder sanctua Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes. Will you do this, keep close within your chamber Hamlet, return'd, shall know you are come home We'll put on those shall praise your excellence And set a double varnish on the fame [gether The Frenchman gave you; bring you, in fine, toAnd wager o'er 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.

Laer. I will do't:

And, for the 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 scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point
With this contagion; that, if I gall him slightly
It may be death.

King. 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 ourbadperformance,
'Twere better not assay'd: therefore, this project
Should have a back, or second, that might hold,

Laer. I know him well; he is the brooch, indeed, If this should blast in proof. Soft;-let me see :And gem of all the nation.

King. He made confession of you;

And gave you such a masterly report,
For art and exercise in your defence,
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 oppos'd 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,

Laer. What out of this, my lord?

King. Laertes, was your father dear to you?
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
A face without a heart?

Laer. Why ask you this?

King. Not that I think, you did not love your But that I know, love is begun by time; [father; And that I see, in passages of proof, Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. There lives within the very flame of love

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 preferr'd him
A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping,
If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,
Our purpose may hold there. But stay, what noise"
Enter Queen.

How now, sweet queen?

Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel, So fast they follow: --your sister's drown'd, Laertes. Laer. Drown'd! O, where? [brook,

Queen. There is a willow grows ascaunt the That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; Therewith fantastic garlands did she make Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call thein: There on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; When down her weedy trophies, and herself, Fell in the weeping broek. Her clothes spread wide.

And, mermaid-like, a while they bore her up:
Which time, she chanted snatches of old tunes;
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indu'd

Unto that element: but long it could not be,
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.

Laer. Alas then, she is drown'd?
Queen. Drown'd, drown'd.

Laer. Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,

SCENE 1. A CHURCH-YARD.

Enter two clowns, with spades, &c.

1 Clo. Is she to be buried in Christian burial, that wilfully seeks her own salvation?

2 Clo. I tell thee, she is; therefore make her grave straight; the crowner hath set on her, and finds it Christian burial.

1 Clo. How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defence?

2 Clo. Why, 'tis found so.

1 Clo. 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, and to perform : argal, she drowned herself wittingly.

2 Clo. Nay, but hear you, goodman delver. 1 Clo. 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.

2 Clo. But is this law?

1 Clo. Ay, marry is't, crowner's-quest law. 2 Clo. Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been a gentlewoman, sho should have been buried out of Christian burial.

1 Clo. Why, there thou say'st: and the more pity; that great folks shall have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves, more than their even Christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profession. 2 Clo. Was he a gentleman?

1 Clo. He was the first that ever bore arms. 2 Clo. Why he had none.

1 Clo. 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 ine not to the purpose, confess thyself

2 Clo. Go to.

1 Clo. What is he, that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? 2 Clo. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.

1 Clo. 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.

2 Clo. Mass, I cannot tell.

Enter Hamlet and Horatio, at a distance.

1 Clo. Cudgel thy brains no more about it; 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 that he makes, last till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan, and fetch me a stoup of liquor. [exit 2 Clown.

1 Clown digs, and sings.
In youth, when I did love, did love,
Methought, it was very sweet,

To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove,
O, methought, there was nothing meet.

Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business? he sings at grave-making.

Hor. Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.

Ham. 'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.

1 Clo. But age, with his stealing steps,
Hath claw'd me in his clutch,
And hath shipped me into the land,
As if I had never been such.

Ham. That scull had a tongue in it, and could
sing once how the knave jowls it to the ground,
as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first
murder! This might be the pate of a politician,
circumvent God, might it not?
which this ass now o'er-reaches; one that would

Hor. It might, my lord.

Ham. Or of a courtier; which would say, 'Good morrow, sweet lord! how dost thou, good lord?' This might be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it? might it not?

Hor. Ay, my lord.

chapless, and knocked about the mazzard with a
Ham. Why, e'en so: and now my lady Worm's;
sexton's spade: here's fine revolution, an we had
the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more
mine ache to think on't.
the breeding, but to play at loggats with them?

1 Clo. A pickaxe, 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.

[sings.

[throws up a scuïl Ham. There's another: why may not that be the scull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddits now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he suffer this rude knave now to

knock him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery? Humph! This fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, nis 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 hardly lie in this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more? ha? Hor. Not a jot more, my lord.

Ham. Is not parchment made of sheep-skins? Hor. Ay, my lord, and of calves-skins too. Ham. They are sheep, and calves, which seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow. -Whose grave's this, sirrah?

1 Clo. Mine, sir.

O, a pit of clay for to be made
For such a guest is meet.

[sings.

Ham. I think it be thine, indeed for thou liest in't.

1 Clo. You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not yours: for my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine.

Ham. 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.

1 Clo. 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again, from me to you.

Ham. What man dost thou dig it for

1 Clo. For no man, sir.

Ham. What woman then?

1 Clo. For none neither.

Ham. Who is to be buried in't?

1 Clo. One, that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.

Ham. How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us. By the lord, Horatio, these three years I have taken note of it; the age is grown so picked, that

toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe.-How long hast thou been a grave-maker?

1 Clo. Of all the days i'the year, I came to't that day that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.

Ham. How long's that since?

1 Clo. 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 to England.

Ham. Ay, marry, why was he sent into England? 1 Clo. Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits t there; or, if he do not, 'tis no great Ham. Why? [matter there.

1 Clo. 'Twill not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.

Ham. How came he mad?

1 Clo. Very strangely, they say.

Ham. How strangely?

1 Clo. 'Faith, e'en with losing his wits.
Ham. Upon what ground?

1 Clo. Why, here in Denmark; I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years. [rot? Ham How long will a man lie i'the earth ere he

1 Clo. 'Faith, if he be not rotten before he die, (as we have many pocky corses now-a-days, that will scarce hold the laying in,) he will last you some eight year, or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year.

Ham. Why he more than another?

1 Clo. 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 scull now hath lain you i'the earth three-and-twenty years.

Ham. Alas! poor Yorick!-I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest; of most excellent fancy: he hath borne 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 songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table in a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that.-Pr'ythee, Horatio, tell me one thing.

Hor. What's that, my lord?

Ham. Dost thou think, Alexander looked o'this fashion i'the earth?

Hor. E'en so.

Ham. And smelt so? pah! [throws down the scull. Hor. E'en so, my lord.

Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole? Hor. 'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.

Ham. 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 Cæsar, dead, and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away: O, that the earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw! But soft! but soft! aside.-Here comes the king, Enter Priests, &c. in procession; the corpse of Ophelia; Laertes and mourners following; King, Queen, their trains, &c.

The queen, the courtiers. Who is this they follow? And with such maimed rites! This doth betoken, The corse, they follow, did with desperate hand Foredo its own life. 'Twas of some estate Couch we a while and mark. [retiring with Horatio.

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: From the Text of Johnson ...