Hamlet Page #6

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Thou still hast been

the father of good news.

Have I, my lord?

I assure my good liege,

I hold my duty, as I hold my soul,

both to my God

and to my gracious king.

And I do think, that I have found

the very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.

O, speak of that -

that do I long to hear.

First give admittance

to the ambassadors -

my news shall be

the fruit unto the feast.

Thyself do grace to them,

and bring them in.

He tells me, my sweet Gertrude,

that he hath found

the head and source

of all your son's distemper.

I doubt it is no other

but the main -

his father's death,

and our o'erhasty marriage.

We will sift him.

Welcome, good friends!

Say, what from our brother Norway?

Most fair return of

greetings and desires.

He sent out to suppress

his nephew's march.

The which he thought proposed

against the Poles,

but, better look'd into,

he truly found

it was against Your Highness

and our state.

So Fortinbras

receives rebuke from him

and vows before his uncle never more

to give assay of arms

against Denmark here.

Ha!

It likes us well.

At night we'll feast together.

Most welcome home!

This business is well ended.

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,

and tediousness the limbs

and outward flourishes,

I will be brief.

Your noble son is mad. Ah!

Mad call I it,

for, to define true madness,

what is't

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 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.

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. Thus.

"In her excellent white...bosom,

these..."

HE TUTS:

..etc.

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."

This, in obedience, hath my

daughter shown me, and more above.

But how hath she received his love?

What do you think of me?

As of a friend,

faithful and honourable.

I would fain prove so.

But what might you think,

When I had seen this hot love

on the wing

as I perceived it,

I must tell you that,

before my daughter told me

what might you,

Or my dear majesty your queen here,

think,

If I had given my heart a winking,

mute and dumb,

or look'd upon this love

with idle sight?

No, I went round to work,

and my young mistress

thus I did bespeak.

"Lord Hamlet is a prince,

out of thy star -

"this must not be."

And then I precepts gave her,

that she should lock herself

from his resort,

admit no messengers,

receive no tokens.

Which done,

she took the fruits of my advice.

And he, repulsed,

a short tale to make

fell into a sadness,

then into a fast,

thence to a watch,

thence into a weakness,

thence to a lightness,

and, by this declension,

Into the madness

wherein now he raves,

and all we mourn for.

Do you think 'tis this?

It may be, very likely.

Hath there been such a time

I'd 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.

If circumstances lead me,

I will find

where truth is hid,

though it were hid indeed

within the centre.

How may we try this 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 keep a farm and carters.

We will try it. But, look,

where sadly the poor wretch comes.

Sweet Gertrude, leave us.

Her father and myself,

lawful espials,

thus may of their encounter

frankly judge,

if be the affliction

of his love or no

that thus he suffers for.

I shall obey you.

And for your part, 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 honours.

Madam, I wish it may.

Ophelia, walk you here.

Read on this book,

that show of such an exercise

may colour your loneliness.

I hear him coming.

Let's withdraw, my lord.

To be, or not to be,

that is the question.

Whether 'tis nobler

in the mind to suffer

the slings and arrows

of outrageous fortune,

or to take arms against

a sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them?

To die,

to sleep,

no more,

and by a sleep to say we end

the heart-ache

and the thousand natural shocks

that flesh is heir to.

'Tis a consummation...

..devoutly to be wish'd.

To die,

to sleep.

To sleep, perchance to dream.

Ay, there's the rub.

For in that sleep of death

what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off

this mortal coil,

must give us pause.

There's the respect

that makes calamity of so long life.

For who would bear

the whips and scorns of time,

but that the dread of

something after death?

The undiscover'd country

from whose bourn

no traveller returns,

puzzles the will

and makes us rather

bear those ills we have

than fly to others

that we know not of?

Thus conscience

does make cowards of us all,

and thus

the native hue of resolution

is sicklied o'er

with the pale cast of thought,

and enterprises

of great pith and moment

with this regard

their currents turn awry,

and lose the name of action.

Soft you now!

The fair Ophelia!

Nymph, in thy orisons

Be all my sins remember'd.

Good my lord, how does your honour

for this many a day?

I humbly thank you -

well, well, well.

My lord,

I have remembrances of yours

that I have long-ed long

to re-deliver.

I pray you, now receive them.

Not I - I never gave you aught.

Mine honour'd 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,

for to the noble mind

rich gifts wax poor

when givers prove unkind.

There, my lord.

Are you honest?

My lord?

Are you fair?

What means your lordship?

I did love you, once.

Indeed, my lord,

you made me believe so.

You should not have believed me,

I loved you not.

I was the more deceived.

Get thee to a nunnery. Why wouldst

thou be a breeder of sinners?

I am myself indifferent honest,

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