Franco Zeffirelli: The Art of Entertainment Page #3

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what you have seen tonight.

- We will not.

- Upon my sword.

Swear.

Swear by my sword

never to speak of this that you have seen.

Never to speak of this

that you have heard.

Swear by his sword.

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 so ever I bear myself...

as I perchance hereafter shall think meet

to put an antic disposition on...

never to note that you know aught of me.

This do swear!

We swear.

Rest.

Rest, perturbed spirit!

The time is out of joint.

O cursed spite,

that ever I was born to set it right.

Tomorrow is Saint Valentine's Day

All in the morning betime

And I a maid

At your window

To be your Valentine

- My lord!

- How now?

I think it sure that I have found

the very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.

Speak on that, that I do long to hear.

My liege, and madam...

to expostulate what majesty should be,

what duty is...

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,

I will be brief.

Your noble son is mad.

Mad call I it...

for, to define true madness,

what is it 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 is mad, 'tis pity, '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.

"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.

Came this from Hamlet to her?

Good madam, stay awhile.

I will be faithful.

"Doubt thou the stars are fire.

"Doubt that the sun doth move.

"Doubt truth to be a liar.

"But never doubt I love.

"Thine evermore, most dear lady...

"whilst this machine is to him, Hamlet."

This in obedience

hath my daughter shown me.

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. And

my young mistress thus I did bespeak...

that she should lock herself

from his resort.

Thus he repelled, a short tale to make...

fell into a sadness, then into a fast,

thence to a lightness...

and by this declension

into the madness wherein now he raves...

and all we mourn for.

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.

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.

Be you and I behind an arras then.

Mark the encounter.

If he love her not, and be not

from his reason fallen thereon...

let me be no assistant for a state.

But look where sadly

the poor wretch comes reading.

I'll board him presently.

Do you think 'tis this?

I doubt it is no other but the main.

His father's death,

and our overhasty marriage.

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?

To be honest, as this world goes,

is to be one man picked out of 10,000.

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 in the sun.

Conception is a blessing,

but as your daughter may conceive...

Friend, look to it.

Still harping on my daughter.

What do you read, my lord?

Words.

What is the matter, my lord?

- Between who?

- The matter that you read.

Slanders, sir.

For the satirical rogue says here

that old men have gray beards...

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.

How pregnant sometimes his replies are.

All of which, sir, I most powerfully

and potently believe...

yet I hold it not honesty

to have it thus set down.

For you yourself shall be old as I am,

if, like a crab, you could go backward.

My lord!

My honorable lord,

I will most humbly take my leave.

You cannot, sir, take from me anything...

that I will more willingly part withal.

Except my life.

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.

Ophelia, walk you here.

Gracious, so please you,

we will bestow ourselves.

Read on this book.

He is coming. Let us withdraw, my lord.

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 longed 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.

There, my lord.

- Are you honest?

- My lord?

- Are you fair?

- What means your 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?

I did love you once.

Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

You should not have believed me.

I loved you not!

Where's your father?

At home, my lord.

Let the doors be shut upon him...

that he may play the fool nowhere

but in his own house!

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!

Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool...

for wise men know well enough

what monsters you make of them.

I have heard of your paintings

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 it.

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.

We must watch him,

and that most carefully.

I have in quick determination

thus set it down:

He shall with speed to England,

for the demand of our neglected tribute.

Haply the seas and countries

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