The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  And thy best graces spend it at thy will.

  But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son—

  HAMLET

  A little more than kin and less than kind.

  KING CLAUDIUS

  How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

  HAMLET

  Not so, my lord, I am too much i’th’ sun.

  QUEEN GERTRUDE

  Good Hamlet, cast thy nightly colour off,

  And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.

  Do not for ever 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.

  HAMLET

  Ay, madam, it is common.

  QUEEN GERTRUDE

  If it be,

  Why seems it so particular with thee?

  HAMLET

  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 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 CLAUDIUS

  ‘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 corpse 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 towards 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.

  QUEEN GERTRUDE

  Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet.

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

  HAMLET

  I shall in all my best obey you, madam.

  KING CLAUDIUS

  Why, ’tis a loving and a fair reply.

  Be as ourself in Denmark. (To Gertrude) 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 heavens shall bruit again,

  Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come, away.

  ⌈Flourish.⌉ pmlmmmExeunt all but Hamlet

  HAMLET

  O that this too too solid flesh would melt,

  Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew,

  Or that the Everlasting had not fixed

  His 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, ah fie, 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 mourned 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 of 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

  HORATIO

  Hail to your lordship.

  HAMLET

  I am glad to see you well.

  Horatio—or I do forget myself.

  HORATIO

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

  HAMLET

  Sir, my good friend; I’ll change that name with you.

  And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?—

  Marcellus.

  MARCELLUS My good lord.

  HAMLET

  I am very glad to see you. (To Barnardo) Good even,

  sir.—

  But what in faith make you from Wittenberg?

  HORATIO

  A truant disposition, good my lord.

  HAMLET

  I would not have your enemy say so,

  Nor shall you do mine ear that violence

  To 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.

  HORATIO

  My lord, I came to see your father’s funeral.

  HAMLET

  I prithee do not mock me, fellow-student;

  I think it was to see my mother’s wedding.

  HORATIO

  Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.

  HAMLET

  Thrift, thrift, Horatio. The funeral baked meats

  Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.

  Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven

  Ere I had ever seen that day, Horatio.

  My father—methinks I see my father.

  HORATIO

  O where, my lord?

  HAMLET

  In my mind’s eye, Horatio.

  HORATIO

  I saw him once. A was a goodly king.

  HAMLET

  A was a man. Take him for all in all,

  I shall not look upon his like again.

  HORATIO

  My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.

  HAMLET Saw? Who?

  HORATIO My lord, the King your father.

 
HAMLET The King my father?

  HORATIO

  Season your admiration for a while

  With an attent ear till I may deliver,

  Upon the witness of these gentlemen,

  This marvel to you.

  HAMLET

  For God’s love let me hear!

  HORATIO

  Two nights together had these gentlemen,

  Marcellus and Barnardo, on their watch,

  In the dead waste and middle of the night,

  Been thus encountered. A figure like your father,

  Armed at all points 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-surprised 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.

  HAMLET

  But where was this?

  MARCELLUS

  My lord, upon the platform where we watched.

  HAMLET

  Did you not speak to it?

  HORATIO

  My lord, I did,

  But answer made it none; yet once methought

  It lifted up it head and did address

  Itself to motion like as it would speak,

  But even then the morning cock crew loud,

  And at the sound it shrunk in haste away

  And vanished from our sight.

  HAMLET

  ’Tis very strange.

  HORATIO

  As I do live, my honoured lord, ’tis true,

  And we did think it writ down in our duty

  To let you know of it.

  HAMLET

  Indeed, indeed, sirs; but this troubles me.—

  Hold you the watch tonight?

  BARNARDO and MARCELLUS

  We do, my lord.

  HAMLET

  Armed, say you?

  BARNARDO and MARCELLUS Armed, my lord.

  HAMLET

  From top to toe?

  BARNARDO and MARCELLUS

  My lord, from head to foot.

  HAMLET

  Then saw you not his face.

  HORATIO

  O yes, my lord, he wore his beaver up.

  HAMLET

  What looked he? Frowningly?

  HORATIO A countenance more

  In sorrow than in anger.

  HAMLET

  Pale or red?

  HORATIO

  Nay, very pale.

  HAMLET

  And fixed his eyes upon you?

  HORATIO Most constantly.

  HAMLET I would I had been there.

  HORATIO It would have much amazed you.

  HAMLET

  Very like, very like. Stayed it long?

  HORATIO

  While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.

  BARNARDO and MARCELLUS Longer, longer.

  HORATIO Not when I saw’t.

  HAMLET His beard was grizzly, no?

  HORATIO

  It was as I have seen it in his life,

  A sable silvered.

  HAMLET

  I’ll watch tonight. Perchance

  ‘Twill walk again.

  HORATIO

  I warrant you it will.

  HAMLET

  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,

  Let it be treble in your silence still,

  And whatsoever else shall hap tonight,

  Give it an understanding but no tongue.

  I will requite your loves. So fare ye well.

  Upon the platform ’twixt eleven and twelve

  I’ll visit you.

  ALL THREE

  Our duty to your honour.

  HAMLET

  Your love, as mine to you. Farewell.

  Exeunt all but Hamlet

  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.

  Exit

  1.3 Enter Laertes and Ophelia, his sister

  LAERTES

  My necessaries are inbarqued. Farewell.

  And, sister, as the winds give benefit

  And convoy is assistant, do not sleep

  But let me hear from you.

  OPHELIA

  Do you doubt that?

  LAERTES

  For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour,

  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.

  OPHELIA

  No more but so?

  LAERTES

  Think it no more.

  For nature crescent does not grow alone

  In thews and bulk, but as his 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 sanity and health of the 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 peculiar sect and force

  May give his saying deed, which is no further

  Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.

  Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain

  If with too credent ear you list his songs,

  Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open

  To his unmastered importunity.

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

  And keep within 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.

  OPHELIA

  I shall th’effect of this good lesson keep

  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

  Whilst like a puffed and reckless libertine

  Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads

  And recks not his own rede.

  LAERTES

  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.

  POLONIUS

  Yet here, Laertes? Aboard, aboard, for shame!
r />   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

  See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,

  Nor any unproportioned thought his act.

  Be thou familiar but by no means vulgar.

  The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,

  Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel,

  But do not dull thy palm with entertainment

  Of each new-hatched unfledged comrade. Beware

  Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in,

  Bear’t that th’opposèd may beware of thee.

  Give every man thine ear but few thy voice.

  Take each man’s censure, but reserve thy judgement.

  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 all most select and generous chief in that.

  Neither a borrower nor a lender be,

  For loan oft loses both itself and friend,

  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.

  LAERTES

  Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.

  POLONIUS

  The time invites you. Go; your servants tend.

  LAERTES

  Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well

  What I have said to you.

  OPHELIA

  ’Tis in my memory locked,

  And you yourself shall keep the key of it.

  LAERTES Farewell.

  Exit

  POLONIUS

  What is’t, Ophelia, he hath said to you?

  OPHELIA

  So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.

  POLONIUS 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 behoves my daughter and your honour.

  What is between you? Give me up the truth.

  OPHELIA

  He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders

  Of his affection to me.

  POLONIUS

  Affection, pooh! You speak like a green girl

  Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.

  Do you believe his ‘tenders’ as you call them?

  OPHELIA

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

  POLONIUS

  Marry, I’ll teach you: think yourself a baby

  That you have ta’en his tenders for true pay,

  Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly,