Hamlet Page #20

Hamlet."

What should this mean?

Are all the rest come back?

Or is this some abuse, and no such thing?

-Know you the hand?

-'Tis Hamlet's character.

"Naked," and in a postscript here

he says "alone."

-Can you advise me?

-I'm lost in it, my lord.

But let him come.

It warms the very sickness in my heart

that I shall live and tell him to his teeth:

"Thus diest thou."

If it be so, Laertes--

As how should it be so, how otherwise?

--will you be ruled by me?

Ay, my lord,

if so you'll not o'errule me to a peace.

To thine own peace.

If he be now returned,

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.

Even his mother shall uncharge the practice

and call it accident.

My lord, I will be ruled.

The rather if you could devise it so

that I might be the organ.

It falls right.

You have been talked of

since your travels 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 that one, and that, in my regard,

of the unworthiest siege.

-What part is that, my lord?

-A very ribbon 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 since

here was a gentleman of Normandy.

I have seen myself,

and served against, the French...

...and they can well on horseback,

but this gallant had witchcraft in 't.

He grew into his seat...

...and to such wondrous

doing brought his horse...

...as he had he been incorpsed

and deminatured with the brave beast.

So far he topped my thought

that I in forgery of shapes and tricks...

...come short of what he did.

-A Norman was 't?

-A Norman.

-Upon my life, Lamord.

-The very same.

I know him well. He is the brooch indeed

and gem of all our nation.

He made confession of you...

...and gave you such a masterly report

for art and exercise in your defense...

...and for your rapier most especial...

...that he cried out 'twould be sight indeed

if one could match you.

The scrimers of their nation, he swore,

had neither motion, guard, nor eye...

...if you opposed 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 him.

-Now, out of this--

-What out of this, my lord?

Laertes, was your father dear to you?

Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,

a face without a heart?

Why ask you this?

Not that I think

you did not love your father...

...but that I know

love is begun by time...

...and that I see, in passages of proof...

...time qualifies the spark and fire of it.

There lives

within the very flame of love...

...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" changes...

...and hath abatements and delays...

...as many 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 of the th' ulcer.

Hamlet comes back.

What would you undertake

to show yourself in deed your father's son...

...more than in words?

To cut his throat i' th' church.

No place indeed

should murder sanctuarize.

Revenge should have no bounds.

But, good Laertes, will you do this?

Keep close within your chamber.

Hamlet returned shall know

that you are come home.

We'll put on those shall praise

your excellence...

...and set a double varnish on the fame

the Frenchman gave you.

Bring you, in fine, together,

and wager on 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.

I will do 't.

And for that purpose

Ill 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 scratched withal.

Ill touch my point with this contagion,

that if I gall him slightly...

...it may be death.

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

our bad performance...

...'twere better not essayed.

Therefore this project should have

a back or second that might hold...

...if this did blast in proof.

Soft, let me see.

We'll make a solemn wager

on your cunnings....

I have it.

When in your motion

you are hot and dry--

As make your bouts

more violent to that end.

--and that he calls for drink...

... Ill have prepared him a chalice

for the nonce, whereon but sipping...

...if he by chance escape

your venomed stuck...

[RUSTLING]

...our purpose may hold there.

But stay, what noise?

How now, sweet queen?

One woe doth tread upon another's heel,

so fast they follow.

Your sister's drowned...

...Laertes.

Drowned?

Oh.

Where?

There is a willow

grows askant the brook...

...that shows his hoary leaves

in the glassy stream.

Therewith fantastic garlands

did she make...

...of Crowflowers, nettles,

daisies, and long purples...

...that liberal shepherds

give a grosser name...

...but our cold maids

do dead men's fingers call them.

There on the pendent boughs...

...her crownet weeds clamb'ring to hang,

an envious sliver broke...

...when down her weedy trophies

and herself fell in the weeping brook.

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 endued

unto that element.

But long it could not be...

...till that her garments,

heavy with their drink...

...pulled the poor wretch

from her melodious lay to muddy death.

Alas, then she is drowned.

Drowned.

Too much of water hast thou,

poor Ophelia...

...and therefore I forbid my tears.

But yet it is our trick.

Nature her custom holds.

Let shame say what it will.

[SOBBING]

When these are gone,

the woman will be out.

Adieu, my lord.

I have a speech of fire

that fain would blaze...

...but that this folly douts it.

Let's follow, Gertrude.

How much I had to do to calm his rage.

Now fear I this will give it start again.

Therefore...

...let's follow.

Is she to be buried in Christian burial

that willfully seeks her own salvation?

I tell thee she is,

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