Hamlet - William Shakespeare (best free ebook reader .TXT) 📗

/> Ham.
What noise? who calls on Hamlet? O, here they come.

[Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.]

Ros.
What have you done, my lord, with the dead body?

Ham.
Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin.

Ros.
Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence,
And bear it to the chapel.

Ham.
Do not believe it.

Ros.
Believe what?

Ham.
That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own. Besides, to be
demanded of a sponge!--what replication should be made by the son
of a king?

Ros.
Take you me for a sponge, my lord?

Ham.
Ay, sir; that soaks up the King's countenance, his rewards,
his authorities. But such officers do the king best service in
the end: he keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw;
first mouthed, to be last swallowed: when he needs what you have
gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you shall be dry
again.

Ros.
I understand you not, my lord.

Ham.
I am glad of it: a knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear.

Ros.
My lord, you must tell us where the body is and go with us to
the king.

Ham.
The body is with the king, but the king is not with the body.
The king is a thing,--

Guil.
A thing, my lord!

Ham.
Of nothing: bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after.

[Exeunt.]


Scene III. Another room in the Castle.

[Enter King,attended.]

King.
I have sent to seek him and to find the body.
How dangerous is it that this man goes loose!
Yet must not we put the strong law on him:
He's lov'd of the distracted multitude,
Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes;
And where 'tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd,
But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even,
This sudden sending him away must seem
Deliberate pause: diseases desperate grown
By desperate appliance are reliev'd,
Or not at all.

[Enter Rosencrantz.]

How now! what hath befall'n?

Ros.
Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord,
We cannot get from him.

King.
But where is he?

Ros.
Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure.

King.
Bring him before us.

Ros.
Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord.

[Enter Hamlet and Guildenstern.]

King.
Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?

Ham.
At supper.

King.
At supper! where?

Ham.
Not where he eats, but where he is eaten: a certain
convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your
only emperor for diet: we fat all creatures else to fat us, and
we fat ourselves for maggots: your fat king and your lean beggar
is but variable service,--two dishes, but to one table: that's
the end.

King.
Alas, alas!

Ham.
A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat
of the fish that hath fed of that worm.

King.
What dost thou mean by this?

Ham.
Nothing but to show you how a king may go a progress through
the guts of a beggar.

King.
Where is Polonius?

Ham.
In heaven: send thither to see: if your messenger find him not
there, seek him i' the other place yourself. But, indeed, if you
find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up
the stairs into the lobby.

King.
Go seek him there. [To some Attendants.]

Ham.
He will stay till you come.

[Exeunt Attendants.]

King.
Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,--
Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve
For that which thou hast done,--must send thee hence
With fiery quickness: therefore prepare thyself;
The bark is ready, and the wind at help,
The associates tend, and everything is bent
For England.

Ham.
For England!

King.
Ay, Hamlet.

Ham.
Good.

King.
So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes.

Ham.
I see a cherub that sees them.--But, come; for England!--
Farewell, dear mother.

King.
Thy loving father, Hamlet.

Ham.
My mother: father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is
one flesh; and so, my mother.--Come, for England!

[Exit.]

King.
Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard;
Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night:
Away! for everything is seal'd and done
That else leans on the affair: pray you, make haste.

[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.]

And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,--
As my great power thereof may give thee sense,
Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red
After the Danish sword, and thy free awe
Pays homage to us,--thou mayst not coldly set
Our sovereign process; which imports at full,
By letters conjuring to that effect,
The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England;
For like the hectic in my blood he rages,
And thou must cure me: till I know 'tis done,
Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun.

[Exit.]


Scene IV. A plain in Denmark.

[Enter Fortinbras, and Forces marching.]

For.
Go, Captain, from me greet the Danish king:
Tell him that, by his license, Fortinbras
Craves the conveyance of a promis'd march
Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous.
If that his majesty would aught with us,
We shall express our duty in his eye;
And let him know so.

Capt.
I will do't, my lord.

For.
Go softly on.

[Exeunt all For. and Forces.]

[Enter Hamlet, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, &c.]

Ham.
Good sir, whose powers are these?

Capt.
They are of Norway, sir.

Ham.
How purpos'd, sir, I pray you?

Capt.
Against some part of Poland.

Ham.
Who commands them, sir?

Capt.
The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras.

Ham.
Goes it against the main of Poland, sir,
Or for some frontier?

Capt.
Truly to speak, and with no addition,
We go to gain a little patch of ground
That hath in it no profit but the name.
To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it;
Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole
A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.

Ham.
Why, then the Polack never will defend it.

Capt.
Yes, it is already garrison'd.

Ham.
Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats
Will not debate the question of this straw:
This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace,
That inward breaks, and shows no cause without
Why the man dies.--I humbly thank you, sir.

Capt.
God b' wi' you, sir.

[Exit.]

Ros.
Will't please you go, my lord?

Ham.
I'll be with you straight. Go a little before.

[Exeunt all but Hamlet.]

How all occasions do inform against me
And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
If his chief good and market of his time
Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
Sure he that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and godlike reason
To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on the event,--
A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom
And ever three parts coward,--I do not know
Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;'
Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means
To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me:
Witness this army, of such mass and charge,
Led by a delicate and tender prince;
Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd,
Makes mouths at the invisible event;
Exposing what is mortal and unsure
To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great
Is not to stir without great argument,
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
When honour's at the stake. How stand I, then,
That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
Excitements of my reason and my blood,
And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see
The imminent death of twenty thousand men
That, for a fantasy and trick of fame,
Go to their graves like beds; fight for a plot
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
Which is not tomb enough and continent
To hide the slain?--O, from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!

[Exit.]


Scene V. Elsinore. A room in the Castle.

[Enter Queen and Horatio.]

Queen.
I will not speak with her.

Gent.
She is importunate; indeed distract:
Her mood will needs be pitied.

Queen.
What would she have?

Gent.
She speaks much of her father; says she hears
There's tricks i' the world, and hems, and beats her heart;
Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,
That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing,
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
The hearers to collection; they aim at it,
And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts;
Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield them,
Indeed would make one think there might be thought,
Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.

Queen.
Let her come in.

[Exit Horatio.]

To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,
Each toy seems Prologue to some great amiss:
So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

[Re-enter Horatio with Ophelia.]

Oph.
Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?

Queen.
How now, Ophelia?

Oph. [Sings.]
How should I your true love know
From another one?
By his cockle bat and' staff
And his sandal shoon.

Queen.
Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?

Oph.
Say you? nay, pray you, mark.
[Sings.]
He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone;
At his head a grass green turf,
At his heels a stone.

Queen.
Nay, but Ophelia--

Oph.
Pray you, mark.
[Sings.]
White his shroud as the mountain snow,

[Enter King.]

Queen.
Alas, look here, my lord!

Oph.
[Sings.]
Larded all with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did go
With true-love showers.

King.
How do you, pretty lady?

Oph.
Well, God dild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter.
Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at
your table!

King.
Conceit upon her father.

Oph.
Pray you, let's have no words of this; but when they ask you what
it means, say you this:
[Sings.]
To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day
All in the morning bedtime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.

Then up he rose and donn'd his clothes,
And dupp'd the chamber door,
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more.

King.
Pretty Ophelia!

Oph.
Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't:
[Sings.]
By Gis and by Saint Charity,
Alack, and fie for shame!
Young men will do't if they come to't;