The Laurence Olivier Awards 1997 Page #4

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Come, bird, come.

- How ist, my noble lord?

- What news, my lord?

- Oh, wonderful.

- My lord, tell it.

No. You will

reveal it.

Not I, my lord.

How say you then, would

heart of man once think it?

- But youll be secret.

- Aye, my lord.

Theres neeer a villain

dwelling in all Denmark...

but hes an arrant knave.

There needs no ghost, my lord,

come from the grave to tell us this.

Why, right.

You are in the right.

So, without more circumstance at all, I

hold it fit that we shake hands and part.

You as your business and desire shall

point you, for every man hath business...

and desire such as it is, and from mine

own poor part, look you, Ill go pray.

These are but wild

and whirling words, my lord.

- Im sorry they offend you heartily. Yes,

faith, heartily. - Theress no offense-

Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is,

Horatio. And much offense too!

Touching this vision here, it is

an honest ghost, that let me tell you.

For your desire to know what is

between us, oermaster it as you may.

And now, good friends, as you

are friends, scholars and soldiers,

give me

one poor request.

- What ist, my lord? We will.

- Never make known what you have seen tonight.

- My lord, we will not.

- Nay, but swear it.

- In faith, my lord, not I.

- Not I, my lord.

- Upon my sword.

- We have sworn, my lord, already.

- Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.

- Oh, 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.

Never, so help you mercy,

how strange or odd

so eer I bear myself,

as I perchance hereafter

shall think fit...

to put an antic

disposition on,

that you, at such times

seeing me,

never shall, by the pronouncing of some

doubtful phrase as, WWell, well, we know,

or WWe could, and if we would,

or such ambiguous giving out,

denote that you

know aught of me.

This do swear, so grace and mercy

at your best need help you.

Swear.

Rest.

Rest, perturbed spirit.

So, gentlemen,

with all my love,

I do commend me to you.

And what so poor a man as Hamlet is may do

to express his love and friending to you,

God willing,

shall not lack.

Go in, and still your fingers

on your lips I pray.

The time

is out of joint.

Oh, cursed spite,

that ever I was born

to set it right.

Come.

Lets go together.

As I was

sewing in my closet,

Lord Hamlet,

with his doublet

all unlaced,

pale as his shirt...

and with a look...

so piteous in purport...

as if he had been loosed out of hell

to speak of horrors,

he comes before me.

He took me by the wrist...

and held me hard.

Then goes he to the length

of all his arm,

and with his other hand

thus oer his brow,

he falls to such perusal

of my face...

as he would draw it.

Long stayed he so.

At last, a little shaking

of mine arm...

and thrice his head

thus waving up and down.

He raised a sigh...

so piteous and profound...

as it did seem to shatter

all his bulk...

and end his being.

That done,

he let me go,

and with his head

over his shoulder turned,

he seemed to find his way

without his eyes,

for out of doors he went

without their help...

and, to the last,

bended their light...

on me.

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.

Mad call I it,

for to define true madness,

what ist but to be

nothing else but mad?

More matter

with less art.

Madam, I swear I use

no art at all.

That he is mad, tis true.

TTis true, tttis pity,

and pity tis,

ttis true.

A foolish figure, but farewell it,

for I will use no art.

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.

TTo the celestial

and my soulsss idol,

the most

beautified Ophelia.

Thats an ill phrase,

a vile phrase.

BBeautified

is a vile phrase.

But you shall hear.

Thus:

lln her excellent

white bosom, these-

Et cetera.

- Came this from Hamlet to her?

- Good madam, stay a while.

I will be faithful.

DDoubt thou

the stars are fire.

Doubt that the sun

doth move.

Doubt truth

to be a liar,

but never doubt I love.

Oh, dear Ophelia,

I am ill at these numbers.

I have not art

to reckon my groans.

But that I love thee best,

oh, most best, believe it.

Adieu.

Thine evermore, most dear lady,

while this frame

is to him, Hamlet.

This in obedience

hath my daughter shown me,

and more above,

hath his solicitings,

as they fell out by time,

by means and place,

all given

to mine ear.

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.

But what might you think, when I had

seen this hot love on the wing,

if I had looked upon this love

with idle sight?

What might you think?

No, I went round to work,

and my young mistress thus

I did bespeak:

LLord Hamlet is a prince, out of

thy star. This must not be.

And then I prescripts

gave her that she should...

lock herself from his resort, admit

no messengers, receive no tokens.

And he, repulsed, a short tale

to make, fell into a sadness,

then into a fast, thence to a watch,

thence to a weakness,

thence into a lightness,

and by this declension...

into that 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

TTTis so that 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...

Ill loose

my daughter to him.

Be you and I behind

an arras then.

Mark the encounter.

If he loves 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 reading.

Away. I do

beseech you both, away,

Ill board him

presently.

Oh, give me leave.

How does

my good Lord Hamlet?

- Well, God-a-mercy.

- 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?

Aye, sir. To be honest

as this world goes...

is to be one man picked

out of ten thousand.

Thats very true,

my lord.

For if the sun breed maggots

in a dead dog-

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.

How say you by that?

Still harping on my daughter.

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