Hamlet Page #18

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 kill'd...

...a mother stain'd...

...excitements of my reason

and my blood...

...and let all sleep...

...while to my shame...

... I see the imminent death

of 20,000 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...

...which is not tomb enough

and continent...

...to hide the slain?

O, from this time forth...

...my thoughts be bloody...

...or be nothing worth.

CLAUDIUS:
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,

unwholesome in their thoughts...

...and whispers for good Polonius' death.

And we have done but greenly

in huggermugger 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 this wonder,

keeps himself in clouds.

Wants not buzzers to infect his ear with

pestilent speeches of his father's death.

Wherein necessity, of matter beggared...

...will nothing stick our persons to arraign

in ear and ear.

O my dear Gertrude, this,

like to a murd'ring-piece...

...in many places

gives me superfluous death.

[OPHELIA GRUNTING]

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' the world...

...and hems, and beats her heart.

Spurns enviously at straws...

...speaks things in doubt

that carry but haIf sense.

Her speech is nothing...

...yet the unshaped 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.

[GERTRUDE SIGHING]

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.

OPHELIA:
Where is the beauteous majesty

of Denmark?

How now, Ophelia?

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...

[OPHELIA CRYING]

...pray you, mark.

He is dead and gone, lady

He is dead and gone

At his head a grass-green turf

At his heels a stone

GERTRUDE:

Nay, but Ophelia--

OPHELIA:

Pray you, mark.

White his shroud as the mountain snow

GERTRUDE:

Alas, look here, my lord.

Larded with sweet flowers

Which bewept to the grave did not go

With true-love showers

How do you, pretty lady?

Well, God 'ield 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.

[SCREAMING]

Pray you!

Let's have no words of this!

But when they ask you what it means...

...say you this:

[SINGING]

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, la?

Without an oath, Ill make an end on 't.

By Gis and by Saint Charity

Alack, and file 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

So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,

an thou hadst not come to my bed"

[CRYING]

How long hath she been thus?

I hope all will be well.

OPHELIA:

We must be patient.

But I cannot choose but weep...

...to think they should lay him

i' th' cold ground.

My brother shall know of it.

[OPHELIA GASPING]

And so I thank you

for your good counsel!

Come...

[OPHELIA SNIFFS]

...my coach!

Good night, ladies.

Good night, sweet ladies, good night.

Good night, sweet ladies!

-Good night!

-Follow her close.

OPHELIA:
Good night!

CLAUDIUS:
Give her good watch, I pray you.

O, this is the poison of deep grief.

It springs all from her father's death.

And now, behold.

CLAUDIUS:

O Gertrude, Gertrude.

[MEN SHOUTING]

GERTRUDE:

What noise is this?

Where are my Switzers? Guard the door.

-What is the matter?

-Save yourself, my lord.

The ocean, overpeering of his list,

eats not 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."

How cheerfully on the false trail they cry!

O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!

CLAUDIUS:

The doors are broke.

[GERTRUDE SHRIEKS]

Where is this king?

-Sirs, stand you all without.

-No, let's come in.

-I pray you, give me leave.

MAN:
We will.

I thank you.

LAERTES:

Keep the door!

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 unsmirched 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.

GERTRUDE:
But not by him.

Let him demand his fill.

How came he dead?

Ill 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 Ill be revenged

most thoroughly for my father.

-Who shall stay to you?

-My will, not all the world.

And for my means...

... Ill husband them so well

they shall go far with little.

Good Laertes...

...if you desire to know the certainty

of your dear father's death...

...is 't writ in your revenge that,

sweepstake...

...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

Ill ope my arms...

...and like the kind life-rend'ring pelican,

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