Hamlet. I pray, will you play upon this pipe?
Rossencraft. Alas, my lord, I cannot.
Hamlet. Pray, will you?
Gilderstone. I have no skill, my lord.
Hamlet. Why look, it is a thing of nothing.
’Tis but stopping of these holes,
And with a little breath from your lips,
It will give most delicate music.
Gilderstone. But this cannot we do, my lord.
200 Hamlet. Pray now, pray heartily, I beseech you.
Rossencraft. My lord, we cannot.
Hamlet. Why, how unworthy a thing would you make of me?
You would seem to know my stops, you would play upon me,
You would search the very inward part of my heart,
And dive into the secret of my soul.
Zounds, do you think I am easier to be played
On, than a pipe? Call me what instrument
You will, though you can fret me, yet you cannot
Play upon me! Besides, to be demanded by a sponge –
210 Rossencraft. How, a sponge, my lord?
Hamlet. Ay sir, a sponge, that soaks up the king’s
Countenance, favours, and rewards, that makes
His liberality your storehouse: but such as you
Do the king, in the end, best service.
For he doth keep you as an ape doth nuts,
In the corner of his jaw; first mouths you,
Then swallows you, so, when he hath need
Of you, ’tis but squeezing of you.
And sponge, you shall be dry again, you shall.
220 Rossencraft. Well my lord, we’ll take our leave.
Hamlet. Farewell, farewell, God bless you.
Exit Rossencraft and Gilderstone.
Enter Corambis.
Corambis. My lord, the queen would speak with you.
Hamlet. Do you see yonder cloud in the shape of a camel?
Corambis. ’Tis like a camel indeed.
Hamlet. Now methinks it’s like a weasel.
Corambis. ’Tis backed like a weasel.
Hamlet. Or like a whale.
Corambis. Very like a whale. Exit Corambis.
Hamlet. Why then, tell my mother I’ll come by and by.
230 Goodnight, Horatio.
Horatio. Goodnight unto your lordship. Exit Horatio.
Hamlet. My mother she hath sent to speak with me:
O God, let ne’er the heart of Nero enter
This soft bosom.
Let me be cruel, not unnatural.
I will speak daggers: those sharp words being spent,
To do her wrong my soul shall ne’er consent. Exit.
[Scene 10]
Enter the King.
King. O that this wet that falls upon my face
Would wash the crime clear from my conscience!
When I look up to heaven, I see my trespass,
The earth doth still cry out upon my fact,
Pay me the murder of a brother and a king,
And the adulterous fault I have committed.
O these are sins that are unpardonable:
Why say thy sins were blacker than is jet,
Yet may contrition make them as white as snow:
10 Ay, but still to persever in a sin,
It is an act against the universal power.
Most wretched man, stoop, bend thee to thy prayer,
Ask grace of heaven to keep thee from despair.
He kneels. Enter Hamlet.
Hamlet. Ay so, come forth and work thy last,
And thus he dies, and so I am revenged.
No, not so. He took my father sleeping, his sins brimful,
And how his soul stood to the state of heaven
Who knows, save the immortal powers.
And shall I kill him now,
20 When he is purging of his soul,
Making his way for heaven? This is a benefit
And not revenge. No, get thee up again,
When he’s at game, swearing, taking his carouse, drinking drunk,
Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed,
Or at some act that hath no relish
Of salvation in’t, then trip him
That his heels may kick at heaven,
And fall as low as hell. My mother stays:
This physic but prolongs thy weary days. Exit Hamlet.
30 King. My words fly up, my sins remain below:
No king on earth is safe, if God’s his foe. Exit King.
[Scene 11]
Enter Queen and Corambis.
Corambis. Madam, I hear young Hamlet coming.
I’ll shroud myself behind the arras. Exit Corambis.
Queen. Do so my lord. [Enter Hamlet.]
Hamlet. Mother, mother. O are you here?
How is’t with you, mother?
Queen. How is’t with you?
Hamlet. I’ll tell you, but first we’ll make all safe.
Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
Hamlet. Mother, you have my father much offended.
10 Queen. How now, boy?
Hamlet. How now, mother? Come here, sit down, for you shall hear me speak.
Queen. What wilt thou do? Thou wilt not murder me? Help, ho!
Corambis. Help for the queen!
[Hamlet stabs him through the arras.]
Hamlet. Ay, a rat, dead for a ducat.
Rash intruding fool, farewell.
I took thee for thy better.
Queen. Hamlet, what hast thou done?
Hamlet. Not so much harm, good mother.
20 As to kill a king, and marry with his brother.
Queen. How! Kill a king!
Hamlet. Ay, a king: nay, sit you down, and ere you part,
If you be made of penetrable stuff,
I’ll make your eyes look down into your heart,
And see how horrid there and black it shows.
Queen. Hamlet, what meanst thou by these killing words?
Hamlet. Why this I mean: see here, behold this picture.
It is the portraiture of your deceased husband.
See here a face to outface Mars himself;
30 An eye, at which his foes did tremble at;
A front wherein all virtues are set down
For to adorn a king and gild his crown,
Whose heart went hand in hand even with that vow
He made to you in marriage, and he is dead.
Murdered, damnably murdered. This was your husband,
Look you now, here is your husband,
With a face like Vulcan;
A look fit for a murder and a rape,
A dull, dead hanging look and a hell-bred eye,
40 To affright children and amaze the world.
And this same have you left to change with this.
What devil thus hath cozened you at hob-man blind?
Ah! Have you eyes, and can you look on him
That slew my father, and your dear husband,
To live in the incestuous pleasure of his bed?
Queen. O Hamlet, speak no more.
Hamlet. To leave him that bore a monarch’s mind,
For a king of clouts, of very threads.
Queen. Sweet Hamlet, cease.
50 Hamlet. Nay, but still to persist and dwell in sin,
To sweat under the yoke of infamy,
To make increase of shame, to seal damnation.
Queen. Hamlet, no more.
Hamlet. Why appetite with you is in the wane,
Your blood runs backward now from whence it came.
Who’d chide hot blood within a virgin’s heart
When lust shall dwell within a matron’s breast?
Queen. Hamlet, thou cleaves my heart in twain.
Hamlet. O throw away the worser part of it, and keep the better.
Enter the Ghost in his nightgown.
60 Save me, save me, you gracious
Powers above, and hover over me<
br />
With your celestial wings.
Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
That I thus long have let revenge slip by?
O do not glare with looks so pitiful!
Lest that my heart of stone yield to compassion,
And every part that should assist revenge,
Forgo their proper powers, and fall to pity.
Ghost. Hamlet, I once again appear to thee,
70 To put thee in remembrance of my death.
Do not neglect, nor long time put it off.
But I perceive by thy distracted looks,
Thy mother’s fearful, and she stands amazed.
Speak to her, Hamlet, for her sex is weak.
Comfort thy mother, Hamlet: think on me.
Hamlet. How is’t with you, lady?
Queen. Nay, how is’t with you
That thus you bend your eyes on vacancy,
And hold discourse with nothing but with air?
80 Hamlet. Why, do you nothing hear?
Queen. Not I.
Hamlet. Nor do you nothing see?
Queen. No, neither.
Hamlet. No, why see the king my father, my father, in the habit
As he lived, look you how pale he looks,
See he steals away out of the portal,
Look, there he goes. Exit Ghost.
Queen. Alas, it is the weakness of thy brain,
Which makes thy tongue to blazon thy heart’s grief.
90 But as I have a soul, I swear by heaven,
I never knew of this most horrid murder.
But Hamlet, this is only fantasy,
And for my love forget these idle fits.
Hamlet. Idle? No mother, my pulse doth beat like yours,
It is not madness that possesseth Hamlet.
O mother, if ever you did my dear father love.
Forbear the adulterous bed tonight.
And win yourself by little as you may.
In time it may be you will loathe him quite:
100 And mother, but assist me in revenge,
And in his death your infamy shall die.
Queen. Hamlet, I vow by that majesty
That knows our thoughts, and looks into our hearts,
I will conceal, consent, and do my best,
What stratagem soe’er thou shalt devise.
Hamlet. It is enough, mother, good night.
Come sir, I’ll provide for you a grave,
Who was in life a foolish prating knave.
Exit Hamlet with the dead body.
Enter the King and lords [Rossencraft and Gilderstone].
King. Now Gertred, what says our son? How do you find him?
110 Queen. Alas, my lord, as raging as the sea:
Whenas he came, I first bespake him fair,
But then he throws and tosses me about
As one forgetting that I was his mother.
At last I called for help, and as I cried, Corambis
Called, which Hamlet no sooner heard, but whips me
Out his rapier, and cries ‘a Rat, a Rat’, and in his rage
The good old man he kills.
King. Why this his madness will undo our state.
Lords, go to him: inquire the body out.
120 Gilderstone. We will, my lord. Exeunt lords.
King. Gertred, your son shall presently to England.
His shipping is already furnished,
And we have sent by Rossencraft and Gilderstone,
Our letters to our dear brother of England,
For Hamlet’s welfare and his happiness.
Haply the air and climate of the country
May please him better than his native home:
See, where he comes.
Enter Hamlet and the lords.
Gilderstone. My lord, we can by no means
130 Know of him where the body is.
King. Now son Hamlet, where is this dead body?
Hamlet. At supper, not where he is eating, but
Where he is eaten: a certain company of politic worms are even now at him.
Father, your fat king and your lean beggar
Are but variable services: two dishes to one mess.
Look you, a man may fish with that worm
That hath eaten of a king,
And a beggar eat that fish,
Which that worm hath caught.
140 King. What of this?
Hamlet. Nothing, father, but to tell you, how a king
May go a progress through the guts of a beggar.
King. But son Hamlet, where is this body?
Hamlet. In heaven: if you chance to miss him there,
Father, you had best look in the other parts below
For him, and if you cannot find him there,
You may chance to nose him as you go up the lobby.
King. Make haste and find him out.
Hamlet. Nay, do you hear? Do not make too much haste.
150 I’ll warrant you he’ll stay till you come.
King. Well, son Hamlet, we in care of you, but specially in tender preservation of your health,
The which we prize even as our proper self,
It is our mind you forthwith go for England,
The wind sits fair, you shall aboard tonight.
Lord Rossencraft and Gilderstone shall go along with you.
Hamlet. O with all my heart: farewell, mother.
King. Your loving father, Hamlet.
Hamlet. My mother I say: you married my mother,
160 My mother is your wife, man and wife is one flesh,
And so, my mother, farewell: for England ho!
Exeunt all but the King.
King. Gertred, leave me,
And take your leave of Hamlet.
To England is he gone, ne’er to return.
Our letters are unto the king of England,
That on the sight of them, on his allegiance
He presently without demanding why
That Hamlet lose his head, for he must die.
There’s more in him than shallow eyes can see:
170 He once being dead, why then our state is free. Exit.
[Scene 12]
Enter Fortenbrasse, Drum and Soldiers.
Fortenbrasse. Captain, from us go greet
The king of Denmark:
Tell him that Fortenbrasse, nephew to old Norway,
Craves a free pass and conduct over his land,
According to the articles agreed on.
You know our rendezvous: go, march away. Exeunt all.
[Scene 13]
Enter King and Queen.
King. Hamlet is shipped for England: fare him well,
I hope to hear good news from thence ere long,
If everything fall out to our content,
As I do make no doubt but so it shall.
Queen. God grant it may: heavens keep my Hamlet safe.
But this mischance of old Corambis’ death
Hath pierced so the young Ofelia’s heart,
That she, poor maid, is quite bereft her wits.
King. Alas, dear heart! And on the other side,
10 We understand her brother’s come from France,
And he hath half the heart of all our land,
And hardly he’ll forget his father’s death,
Unless by some means he be pacified.
Queen. O see, where the young Ofelia is!
Enter Ofelia playing on a lute, and her hair down, singing.
Ofelia. How should I your true love know
From another man?
By his cockle-hat, and his staff,
And his sandal shoon.
White his shroud as mountain snow,
20 Larded with sweet flowers,
That bewept to the grave did not go
With true lovers’ showers:
He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone.
At his head a grass-green turf
At his heels a
stone.
King. How is’t with you, sweet Ofelia?
Ofelia. Well, God yield you.
It grieves me to see how they laid him in the cold ground,
30 I could not choose but weep:
And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he’s gone, and we cast away moan,
And he never will come again.
His beard as white as snow:
All flaxen was his poll,
He is dead, he is gone,
And we cast away moan.
God ’a mercy on his soul.
40 And of all Christian souls, I pray God.
God be with you, ladies, God be with you. Exit Ofelia.
King. A pretty wretch! This is a change indeed:
O Time, how swiftly runs our joys away!
Content on earth was never certain bred,
Today we laugh and live, tomorrow dead.
How now, what noise is that?
A noise within. Enter leartes.
Leartes. Stay there until I come,
O thou vile king, give me my father.
Speak, say, where’s my father?
50 King. Dead.
Leartes. Who hath murdered him? Speak, I’ll not
Be juggled with, for he is murdered.
Queen. True, but not by him.
Laertes. By whom? By heaven, I’ll be resolved.
King. let him go, Gertred. Away, I fear him not.
There’s such a divinity doth wall a king,
That treason dares not look on.
Let him go, Gertred: that your father is murdered,
’Tis true, and we most sorry for it,
60 Being the chiefest pillar of our state:
Therefore will you like a most desperate gamester,
Swoopstake-like, draw at friend and foe and all?
Leartes. To his good friends thus wide I’ll ope mine arms,
And lock them in my heart; but to his foes,
I will no reconcilement but by blood.
King. Why now you speak like a most loving son.
And that in soul we sorrow for his death,
Yourself ere long shall be a witness:
Meanwhile be patient, and content yourself.
Enter Ofelia as before.
70 Leartes. Who’s this, Ofelia? O my dear sister!
Is’t possible a young maid’s life
Should be as mortal as an old man’s saw?
O heavens themselves! How now, Ofelia?
Ofelia. Well, God amercy, I ’a been gathering of flowers:
Here, here is rue for you,
You may call it herb-a-grace o’Sundays,
Here’s some for me too: you must wear your rue
With a difference. There’s a daisy.
Here love, there’s rosemary for you
Five Revenge Tragedies: The Spanish Tragedy, Hamlet, Antonio's Revenge, The Tragedy of Hoffman, The Revenger's Tragedy (Penguin Classics) Page 16