Hamlet

Barn. 'Tis heere Hor. 'Tis heere Mar. 'Tis gone. Exit Ghost. We do it wrong, being so Maiesticall To offer it the shew of Violence, For it is as the Ayre, invulnerable, And our vaine blowes, malicious Mockery Barn. It was about to speake, when the Cocke crew Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing Vpon a fearfull Summons. I haue heard, The Cocke that is the Trumpet to the day, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding Throate Awake the God of Day: and at his warning, Whether in Sea, or Fire, in Earth, or Ayre, Th' extrauagant, and erring Spirit, hyes To his Confine. And of the truth heerein, This present Obiect made probation Mar. It faded on the crowing of the Cocke. Some sayes, that euer 'gainst that Season comes Wherein our Sauiours Birch is celebrated, The Bird of Dawning singeth all night long: And then (they say) no Spirit can walke abroad, The nights are wholsome, then no Planets strike, No Faiery talkes, nor Witch hath power to Charme: So hallow'd, and so gracious is the time Hor. So haue I heard, and do in part beleeue it. But looke, the Morne in Russet mantle clad, Walkes o're the dew of yon high Easterne Hill, Breake we our Watch vp, and by my aduice Let vs impart what we haue seene to night Vnto yong Hamlet. For vpon my life, This Spirit dumbe to vs, will speake to him: Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it, As needfull in our Loues, fitting our Duty? Mar. Let do't I pray, and I this morning know Where we shall finde him most conueniently. Exeunt. Scena Secunda. Enter Claudius King of Denmarke, Gertrude the Queene, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, and his Sister Ophelia, Lords Attendant. King. Though yet of Hamlet our deere Brothers death The memory be greene: and that it vs befitted To beare our hearts in greefe, and our whole Kingdome To be contracted in one brow of woe: Yet so farre hath Discretion fought with Nature, That we with wisest sorrow thinke on him, Together with remembrance of our selues. Therefore our sometimes Sister, now our Queene, Th' imperiall Ioyntresse of this warlike State, Haue we, as 'twere, with a defeated ioy, With one Auspicious, and one Dropping eye, With mirth in Funerall, and with Dirge in Marriage, In equall Scale weighing Delight and Dole Taken to Wife; nor haue we heerein barr'd Your better Wisedomes, which haue freely gone With this affaire along, for all our Thankes. Now followes, that you know young Fortinbras, Holding a weake supposall of our worth; Or thinking by our late deere Brothers death, Our State to be disioynt, and out of Frame, Colleagued with the dreame of his Aduantage; He hath not fayl'd to pester vs with Message, Importing the surrender of those Lands Lost by his Father: with all Bonds of Law To our most valiant Brother. So much for him. Enter Voltemand and Cornelius. Now for our selfe, and for this time of meeting Thus much the businesse is. We haue heere writ To Norway, Vncle of young Fortinbras, Who Impotent and Bedrid, scarsely heares Of this his Nephewes purpose, to suppresse His further gate heerein. In that the Leuies, The Lists, and full proportions are all made Out of his subiect: and we heere dispatch You good Cornelius, and you Voltemand, For bearing of this greeting to old Norway, Giuing to you no further personall power To businesse with the King, more then the scope Of these dilated Articles allow: Farewell, and let your hast commend your duty Volt. In that, and all things, will we shew our duty King. We doubt it nothing, heartily farewell. Exit Voltemand and Cornelius. And now Laertes, what's the newes with you? You told vs of some suite. What is't Laertes? You cannot speake of Reason to the Dane, And loose your voyce. What would'st thou beg Laertes, That shall not be my Offer, not thy Asking? The Head is not more Natiue to the Heart, The Hand more instrumentall to the Mouth, Then is the Throne of Denmarke to thy Father. What would'st thou haue Laertes? Laer. Dread my Lord, Your leaue and fauour to returne to France, From whence, though willingly I came to Denmarke To shew my duty in your Coronation, Yet now I must confesse, that duty done, My thoughts and wishes bend againe towards France, And bow them to your gracious leaue and pardon King. Haue you your Fathers leaue? What sayes Pollonius? Pol. He hath my Lord: I do beseech you giue him leaue to go King. Take thy faire houre Laertes, time be thine, And thy best graces spend it at thy will: But now my Cosin Hamlet, and my Sonne? Ham. A little more then kin, and lesse then kinde King. How is it that the Clouds still hang on you? Ham. Not so my Lord, I am too much i'th' Sun Queen. Good Hamlet cast thy nightly colour off, And let thine eye looke like a Friend on Denmarke. Do not for euer with thy veyled lids Seeke for thy Noble Father in the dust; Thou know'st 'tis common, all that liues must dye, Passing through Nature, to Eternity Ham. I Madam, it is common Queen. If it be; Why seemes it so particular with thee Ham. Seemes Madam? Nay, it is: I know not Seemes: 'Tis not alone my Inky Cloake (good Mother) Nor Customary suites of solemne Blacke, Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, No, nor the fruitfull Riuer in the Eye, Nor the deiected hauiour of the Visage, Together with all Formes, Moods, shewes of Griefe, That can denote me truly. These indeed Seeme, For they are actions that a man might play: But I haue that Within, which passeth show; These, but the Trappings, and the Suites of woe King. 'Tis sweet and commendable In your Nature Hamlet, To giue these mourning duties to your Father: But you must know, your Father lost a Father, That Father lost, lost his, and the Suruiuer bound In filiall Obligation, for some terme To do obsequious Sorrow. But to perseuer In obstinate Condolement, is a course Of impious stubbornnesse. 'Tis vnmanly greefe, It shewes a will most incorrect to Heauen, A Heart vnfortified, a Minde impatient, An Vnderstanding simple, and vnschool'd: For, what we know must be, and is as common As any the most vulgar thing to sence, Why should we in our peeuish Opposition Take it to heart? Fye, 'tis a fault to Heauen, A fault against the Dead, a fault to Nature, To Reason most absurd, whose common Theame Is death of Fathers, and who still hath cried, From the first Coarse, till he that dyed to day, This must be so. We pray you throw to earth This vnpreuayling woe, and thinke of vs As of a Father; For let the world take note, You are the most immediate to our Throne, And with no lesse Nobility of Loue, Then that which deerest Father beares his Sonne, Do I impart towards you. For your intent In going backe to Schoole in Wittenberg, It is most retrograde to our desire: And we beseech you, bend you to remaine Heere in the cheere and comfort of our eye, Our cheefest Courtier Cosin, and our Sonne Qu. Let not thy Mother lose her Prayers Hamlet: I prythee stay with vs, go not to Wittenberg Ham. I shall in all my best Obey you Madam King. Why 'tis a louing, and a faire Reply, Be as our selfe in Denmarke. Madam come, This gentle and vnforc'd accord of Hamlet Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof, No iocond health that Denmarke drinkes to day, But the great Cannon to the Clowds shall tell, And the Kings Rouce, the Heauens shall bruite againe, Respeaking earthly Thunder. Come away. Exeunt. Manet Hamlet. Ham. Oh that this too too solid Flesh, would melt, Thaw, and resolue it selfe into a Dew: Or that the Euerlasting had not fixt His Cannon 'gainst Selfe-slaughter. O God, O God! How weary, stale, flat, and vnprofitable Seemes to me all the vses of this world? Fie on't? Oh fie, fie, 'tis an vnweeded Garden That growes to Seed: Things rank, and grosse in Nature Possesse it meerely. That it should come to this: But two months dead: Nay, not so much; not two, So excellent a King, that was to this Hiperion to a Satyre: so louing to my Mother, That he might not beteene the windes of heauen Visit her face too roughly. Heauen and Earth Must I remember: why she would hang on him, As if encrease of Appetite had growne By what is fed on; and yet within a month? Let me not thinke on't: Frailty, thy name is woman. A little Month, or ere those shooes were old, With which she followed my poore Fathers body Like Niobe, all teares. Why she, euen she. (O Heauen! A beast that wants discourse of Reason Would haue mourn'd longer) married with mine Vnkle, My Fathers Brother: but no more like my Father, Then I to Hercules. Within a Moneth? Ere yet the salt of most vnrighteous Teares Had left the flushing of her gauled eyes, She married. O most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to Incestuous sheets: It is not, nor it cannot come to good. But breake my heart, for I must hold my tongue. Enter Horatio, Barnardo, and Marcellus. Hor. Haile to your Lordship Ham. I am glad to see you well: Horatio, or I do forget my selfe Hor. The same my Lord, And your poore Seruant euer Ham. Sir my good friend, Ile change that name with you: And what make you from Wittenberg Horatio? Marcellus Mar. My good Lord Ham. I am very glad to see you: good euen Sir. But what in faith make you from Wittemberge? Hor. A truant disposition, good my Lord Ham. I would not haue your Enemy say so; Nor shall you doe mine eare that violence, To make it truster of your owne report Against your selfe. I know you are no Truant: But what is your affaire in Elsenour? Wee'l teach you to drinke deepe, ere you depart Hor. My Lord, I came to see your Fathers Funerall