Scena Secunda.
Enter Claudius King of Denmarke, Gertrude the Queene,
Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, and his Si ster O-
phelia, 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 wise st sorrow thinke on him,
Together with remembrance of our selues.
Therefore our sometimes Si ster, now our Queen,
Th'Imperiall Ioyntre s s e 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 di sioynt, and out of Frame,
Colleagued with the dreame of his Aduantage;
He hath not fayl'd to pe ster vs with Me s s age,
Importing the surrender of those Lands
Lo st by his Father: with all Bonds of Law
To our mo st valiant Brother. So much for him.
Enter Voltemand and Cornelius.
Now for our selfe, and for this time of meeting
Thus much the bu sine s s e is. We haue heere writ
To Norway, Vncle of young Fortinbras,
Who Impotent and Bedrid, scarsely heares
Of this his Nephewes purpose, to suppre s s e
His further gate heerein. In that the Leuies,
The Li sts, 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 bu sine s s e with the King, more then the scope
Of these dilated Articles allow:
Farewell, and let your ha st 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 In strumentall 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 mu st confe s s e, that duty done,
My thoughts and wi shes 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 be st graces spend it at thy will:
But now my Co sin Hamlet, and my Sonne?
Ham. A little more then kin, and le s s e 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 ca st 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 du st;
Thou know' st 'tis common, all that liues mu st dye,
Pa s sing 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 Cu stomary 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 pa s s eth 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 mu st know, your Father lo st a Father,
That Father lo st, lo st his, and the Suruiuer bound
In filiall Obligation, for some terme
To do obsequious Sorrow. But to perseuer
In ob stinate Condolement, is a course
Of impious stubbornne s s e. 'Tis vnmanly greefe,
It shewes a will mo st incorrect to Heauen,
A Heart vnfortified, a Minde impatient,
An Vnder standing simple, and vnschool'd:
For, what we know mu st be, and is as common
As any the mo st vulgar thing to sence,
Why should we in our peeui sh Oppo sition
Take it to heart? Fye, 'tis a fault to Heauen,
A fault again st the Dead, a fault to Nature,
To Reason mo st absurd, whose common Theame
Is death of Fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the fir st Coarse, till he that dyed to day,
This mu st 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 mo st immediate to our Throne,
And with no le s s e Nobility of Loue,
Then that which deere st Father beares his Sonne,
Do I impart towards you. For your intent
In going backe to Schoole in Wittenberg,
It is mo st retrograde to our de sire:
And we beseech you, bend you to remaine
Heere in the cheere and comfort of our eye,
Our cheefe st Courtier Co sin, 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 be st
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 Fle sh, would melt,
Thaw, and resolue it selfe into a Dew:
Or that the Euerla sting had not fixt
His Cannon 'gain st 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 gro s s e in Nature
Po s s e s s e 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
Vi sit her face too roughly. Heauen and Earth
Mu st I remember: why she would hang on him,
As if encrease of Appetite had growne
By what it 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 bea st 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 mo st vnrighteous Teares
Had left the flu shing of her gauled eyes,
She married. O mo st wicked speed, to po st
With such dexterity to Ince stuous sheets:
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.
But breake my heart, for I mu st hold my tongue.
Enter Horatio, Barnard, and Marcellus.
Hor. Haile to your Lord ship.
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 dispo sition, good my Lord.
Ham. I would not haue your Enemy say so;
Nor shall you doe mine eare that violence,
To make it tru ster of your owne report
Again st 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.
Ham. I pray thee doe not mock me (fellow Student)
I thinke it was to see my Mothers Wedding.
Hor. Indeed my Lord, it followed hard vpon.
Ham. Thrift, thrift Horatio: the Funerall Bakt-meats
Did coldly furni sh forth the Marriage Tables;
Would I had met my deare st foe in heauen,
Ere I had euer seene that day Horatio.
My father, me thinkes I see my father.
Hor. Oh where my Lord?
Ham. In my minds eye (Horatio)
Hor. I saw him once; he was a goodly King.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all:
I shall not look vpon his like againe.
Hor. My Lord, I thinke I saw him ye sternight.
Ham. Saw? Who?
Hor. My Lord, the King your Father.
Ham. The King my Father?
Hor. Season your admiration for a while
With an attent eare; till I may deliuer
Vpon the witne s s e of these Gentlemen,
This maruell to you.
Ham. For Heauens loue let me heare.
Hor. Two nights together, had these Gentlemen
(Marcellus and Barnardo) on their Watch
In the dead wa st and middle of the night
Beene thus encountred. A figure like your Father,
Arm'd at all points exactly, Cap a Pe,
Appeares before them, and with sollemne march
Goes slow and stately: By them thrice he walkt,
By their oppre st and feare-surprized eyes,
Within his Truncheons length; whil st they be stil'd
Almo st to Ielly with the Act of feare,
Stand dumbe and speake not to him. This to me
In dreadfull secrecie impart they did,
And I with them the third Night kept the Watch,
Whereas they had deliuer'd both in time,
Forme of the thing; each word made true and good,
The Apparition comes. I knew your Father:
These hands are not more like.
Ham. But where was this?
Mar. My Lord, vpon the platforme where we watcht.
Ham. Did you not speake to it?
Hor. My Lord, I did;
But answere made it none: yet once me thought
It lifted vp it head, and did addre s s e
It selfe to motion, like as it would speake:
But euen then, the Morning Cocke crew lowd;
And at the sound it shrunke in ha st away,
And vani sht from our sight.
Ham. Tis very strange.
Hor. As I doe liue my honourd Lord 'tis true;
And we did thinke it writ downe in our duty
To let you know of it.
Ham. Indeed, indeed Sirs; but this troubles me.
Hold you the watch to Night?
Both. We doe my Lord.
Ham. Arm'd, say you?
Both. Arm'd, my Lord.
Ham. From top to toe?
Both. My Lord, from head to foote.
Ham. Then saw you not his face?
Hor. O yes, my Lord, he wore his Beauer vp.
Ham. What, lookt he frowningly?
Hor. A countenance more in sorrow then in anger.
Ham. Pale, or red?
Hor. Nay very pale.
Ham. And fixt his eyes vpon you?
Hor. Mo st con stantly.
Ham. I would I had beene there.
Hor. It would haue much amaz'd you.
Ham. Very like, very like: staid it long?
Hor. While one with moderate ha st might tell a hun- (dred.
All. Longer, longer.
Hor. Not when I saw't.
Ham. His Beard was gri sly? no.
Hor. It was, as I haue seene it in his life,
A Sable Siluer'd.
Ham. Ile watch to Night; perchance 'twill wake a- (gaine.
Hor. I warrant you it will.
Ham. If it a s s ume my noble Fathers person,
Ile speake to it, though Hell it selfe should gape
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you haue hitherto conceald this sight;
Let it bee treble in your silence still:
And whatsoeuer els shall hap to night,
Giue it an vnder standing but no tongue;
I will requite your loues; so, fare ye well:
Vpon the Platforme twixt eleuen and twelue,
Ile vi sit you.
All. Our duty to your Honour. Exeunt.
Ham. Your loue, as mine to you: farewell.
My Fathers Spirit in Armes? All is not well:
I doubt some foule play: would the Night were come;
Till then sit still my soule; foule deeds will rise,
Though all the earth orewhelm them to mens eies. Exit.