The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

Of general assault.

Rey. But, my good lord—

Pol. Wherefore should you do this?

Rey. Ay, my lord,

I would know that.

Pol. Marry, sir, here’s my drift,

And I believe it is a fetch of warrant.

You laying these slight sullies on my son As ‘twere a thing a little soil’d i’ th’ working, Mark you,

Your party in converse, him you would sound, Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes The youth you breathe of guilty, be assur’d He closes with you in this consequence: ‘Good sir,’ or so, or ‘friend,’ or ‘gentleman’-

According to the phrase or the addition Of man and country-Rey. Very good, my lord.

Pol. And then, sir, does ‘a this- ‘a does-What was I about to say?

By the mass, I was about to say something! Where did I leave?

Rey. At ‘closes in the consequence,’ at ‘friend or so,’ and gentleman.’

Pol. At ‘closes in the consequence’- Ay, marry!

He closes thus: ‘I know the gentleman.

I saw him yesterday, or t’other day,

Or then, or then, with such or such; and, as you say, There was ‘a gaming; there o’ertook in’s rouse; There falling out at tennis’; or perchance, ‘I saw him enter such a house of sale,’

Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth.

See you now—

Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth; And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, With windlasses and with assays of bias, By indirections find directions out.

So, by my former lecture and advice,

Shall you my son. You have me, have you not Rey. My lord, I have.

Pol. God b’ wi’ ye, fare ye well!

Rey. Good my lord! [Going.]

Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself.

Rey. I shall, my lord.

Pol. And let him ply his music.

Rey. Well, my lord.

Pol. Farewell!

Exit Reynaldo.

Enter Ophelia.

How now, Ophelia? What’s the matter?

Oph. O my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!

Pol. With what, i’ th’ name of God I

Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac’d, No hat upon his head, his stockings foul’d, Ungart’red, and down-gyved to his ankle; Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other, 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.

Pol. Mad for thy love?

Oph. My lord, I do not know,

But truly I do fear it.

Pol. What said he?

Oph. 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 o’er his brow, He falls to such perusal of my face

As he would draw it. Long stay’d he so.

At last, a little shaking of mine arm, And thrice his head thus waving up and down, He rais’d a sigh so piteous and profound As it did seem to shatter all his bulk And end his being. That done, he lets me go, And with his head over his shoulder turn’d He seem’d to find his way without his eyes, For out o’ doors he went without their help And to the last bended their light on me.

Pol. Come, go with me. I will go seek the King.

This is the very ecstasy of love,

Whose violent property fordoes itself And leads the will to desperate undertakings As oft as any passion under heaven

That does afflict our natures. I am sorry.

What, have you given him any hard words of late?

Oph. No, my good lord; but, as you did command, I did repel his letters and denied

His access to me.

Pol. That hath made him mad.

I am sorry that with better heed and judgment I had not quoted him. I fear’d he did but trifle And meant to wrack thee; but beshrew my jealousy!

By heaven, it is as proper to our age To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions As it is common for the younger sort

To lack discretion. Come, go we to the King.

This must be known; which, being kept close, might move More grief to hide than hate to utter love.

Come.

Exeunt.

Scene II.

Elsinore. A room in the Castle.

Flourish. [Enter King and Queen, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, cum aliis.

King. Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

Moreover that we much did long to see you, The need we have to use you did provoke Our hasty sending. Something have you heard Of Hamlet’s transformation. So I call it, Sith nor th’ exterior nor the inward man Resembles that it was. What it should be, More than his father’s death, that thus hath put him So much from th’ understanding of himself, I cannot dream of. I entreat you both That, being of so young clays brought up with him, And since so neighbour’d to his youth and haviour, That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court Some little time; so by your companies To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather So much as from occasion you may glean, Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him thus That, open’d, lies within our remedy.

Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much talk’d of you, And sure I am two men there are not living To whom he more adheres. If it will please you To show us so much gentry and good will As to expend your time with us awhile For the supply and profit of our hope, Your visitation shall receive such thanks As fits a king’s remembrance.

Ros. Both your Majesties

Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, Put your dread pleasures more into command Than to entreaty.

Guil. But we both obey,

And here give up ourselves, in the full bent, To lay our service freely at your feet, To be commanded.

King. Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.

Queen. Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz.

And I beseech you instantly to visit

My too much changed son.- Go, some of you, And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.

Guil. Heavens make our presence and our practices Pleasant and helpful to him!

Queen. Ay, amen!

Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, [with some Attendants].

Enter Polonius.

Pol. Th’ ambassadors from Norway, my good lord, Are joyfully return’d.

King. Thou still hast been the father of good news.

Pol. Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege, I hold my duty as I hold my soul,

Both to my God and to my gracious king; And I do think-or else this brain of mine Hunts not the trail of policy so sure As it hath us’d to do-that I have found The very cause of Hamlet’s lunacy.

King. O, speak of that! That do I long to hear.

Pol. Give first admittance to th’ ambassadors.

My news shall be the fruit to that great feast.

King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in.

[Exit Polonius.]

He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found The head and source of all your son’s distemper.

Queen. I doubt it is no other but the main, His father’s death and our o’erhasty marriage.

King. Well, we shall sift him.

Enter Polonius, Voltemand, and Cornelius.

Welcome, my good friends.

Say, Voltemand, what from our brother Norway?

Volt. Most fair return of greetings and desires.

Upon our first, he sent out to suppress His nephew’s levies; which to him appear’d To be a preparation ‘gainst the Polack, But better look’d into, he truly found It was against your Highness; whereat griev’d, That so his sickness, age, and impotence Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys, Receives rebuke from Norway, and, in fine, Makes vow before his uncle never more To give th’ assay of arms against your Majesty.

Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy, Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee And his commission to employ those soldiers, So levied as before, against the Polack; With an entreaty, herein further shown, [Gives a paper.]

That it might please you to give quiet pass Through your dominions for this enterprise, On such regards of safety and allowance As therein are set down.

King. It likes us well;

And at our more consider’d time we’ll read, Answer, and think upon this business.

Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour.

Go to your rest; at night we’ll feast together.

Most welcome home! Exeunt Ambassadors.

Pol. This business is well ended.

My liege, and madam, to expostulate

What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night is 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 is’t but to be nothing else but mad?

But let that go.

Queen. More matter, with less art.

Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all.

That he is mad, ‘tis true: ‘tis true ‘tis pity; And pity ‘tis ‘tis true. A foolish figure!

But farewell it, for I will use no art.

Mad let us grant him then. And now remains That we find out the cause of this effect-Or rather say, the cause of this defect, For this effect defective comes by cause.

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.

[Reads] the letter.

‘To the celestial, and my soul’s idol, the most beautified Ophelia,’-

That’s an ill phrase, a vile phrase; ‘beautified’ is a vile phrase.

But you shall hear. Thus:

[Reads.]

‘In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.’

Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her?

Pol. Good madam, stay awhile. I will be faithful. [Reads.]

‘Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt I love.

‘O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art to reckon my groans; but that I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu.

‘Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine 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.

King. But how hath she

Receiv’d his love?

Pol. What do you think of me?

King. As of a man faithful and honourable.

Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might you think, When I had seen this hot love on the wing (As I perceiv’d it, I must tell you that, Before my daughter told me), what might you, Or my dear Majesty your queen here, think, If I had play’d the desk or table book, Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb, Or look’d upon this love with idle sight?

What might you think? No, I went round to work And my young mistress thus I did bespeak: ‘Lord 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.

Which done, she took the fruits of my advice, And he, repulsed, a short tale to make, Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension, Into the madness wherein now he raves, And all we mourn for.

King. Do you think ‘tis this?

Queen. it may