Transcriber's Note:
This is a heavily edited version of _Hamlet_. It was used
for Charles Kean's 1859 stage production. Phrases printed
in italics in the book are indicated in this electronic
version by _ (underscore). Footnotes originally appeared
at the bottom of each page. For this electronic version
the footnotes are collected at the end of each act. In
Act I, Scene 5, the word Uumix'd has been changed to
Unmix'd. A closing bracket ] was added to Act IV footnote
37 after _Naked on your kingdom_,. A closing bracket ]
was added to Act IV footnote 50 after _Venom'd stuck_,.
The word o'er-crows appears in Act V, Scene 3; in
footnote V.81, o'ercrows appears without a hyphen. Both
are as they appear in the book.
SHAKESPEARE'S TRAGEDY
OF
HAMLET,
PRINCE OF DENMARK.
ARRANGED FOR REPRESENTATION AT THE
Royal Princess's Theatre
WITH
EXPLANATORY NOTES,
BY
CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A.
AS PERFORMED ON
MONDAY, JANUARY 10, 1859.
LONDON:
BRADBURY AND EVANS, 11, BOUVERIE STREET.
1859.
LONDON:
BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
Dramatis Personæ
CLAUDIUS (_King of Denmark_) Mr. RYDER.
HAMLET (_son to the former and_
_nephew to the present King_). Mr. CHARLES KEAN.
POLONIUS (_Lord Chamberlain_) Mr. MEADOWS.
HORATIO (_friend To Hamlet_) Mr. GRAHAM.
LAERTES (_son To Polonius_) Mr. J. F. CATHCART.
ROSENCRANTZ } { Mr. BRAZIER.
GUILDENSTERN } (_Courtiers_) { Mr. G. EVERETT.
OSRICK } { Mr. DAVID FISHER.
PRIEST Mr. TERRY.
MARCELLUS Mr. PAULO.
BERNARDO Mr. DALY.
FRANCISCO Mr. COLLETT.
GHOST OF HAMLET'S FATHER Mr. WALTER LACY.
FIRST GRAVEDIGGER Mr. FRANK MATTHEWS.
SECOND GRAVEDIGGER Mr. H. SAKER.
FIRST PLAYER Mr. F. COOKE.
SECOND PLAYER Mr. ROLLESTON.
GERTRUDE (_Queen of Denmark, and_
_mother of Hamlet_) Mrs. CHARLES KEAN.
OPHELIA (_daughter of Polonius_) Miss HEATH.
ACTRESS Miss DALY.
STAGE DIRECTIONS.
R. H. means Right Hand; L. H. Left Hand; U. E. Upper Entrance; R. H.
C. Enters through the Centre from the Right Hand; L. H. C. Enters
through the Centre from the Left Hand.
RELATIVE POSITIONS OF THE PERFORMERS WHEN ON THE STAGE.
R. means on the Right side of the Stage; L. on the Left side of the
Stage; C. Centre of the Stage; R. C. Right Centre of the Stage; L. C.
Left Centre of the Stage.
The reader is supposed _to be on the Stage_, facing the audience.
PREFACE.
The play of _Hamlet_ is above all others the most stupendous monument
of Shakespeare's genius, standing as a beacon to command the wonder
and admiration of the world, and as a memorial to future generations,
that the mind of its author was moved by little less than inspiration.
_Lear_, with its sublime picture of human misery;--_Othello_, with its
harrowing overthrow of a nature great and amiable;--_Macbeth_, with
its fearful murder of a monarch, whose "virtues plead like angels
trumpet-tongued against the deep damnation of his taking
off,"--severally exhibit, in the most pre-eminent degree, all those
mighty elements which constitute the perfection of tragic art--the
grand, the pitiful, and the terrible. _Hamlet_ is a history of mind--a
tragedy of thought. It contains the deepest philosophy, and most
profound wisdom; yet speaks the language of the heart, touching the
secret spring of every sense and feeling. Here we have no ideal
exaltation of character, but life with its blended faults and
virtues,--a gentle nature unstrung by passing events, and thus
rendered "out of tune and harsh."
The original story of Hamlet is to be found in the Latin pages of the
Danish historian, Saxo Grammaticus, who died in the year 1208.
Towards the end of the sixteenth century, the French author, Francis
de Belleforest, introduced the fable into a collection of novels,
which were translated into English, and printed in a small quarto
black letter volume, under the title of the "Historie of Hamblett,"
from which source Shakespeare constructed the present tragedy.
Saxo has placed his history about 200 years before Christianity, when
barbarians, clothed in skins, peopled the shores of the Baltic. The
poet, however, has so far modernised the subject as to make Hamlet a
Christian, and England tributary to the "sovereign majesty of
Denmark." A date can therefore be easily fixed, and the costume of
the tenth and eleventh centuries may be selected for the purpose.
There are but few authentic records in existence, but these few
afford reason to believe that very slight difference existed between
the dress of the Dane and that of the Anglo-Saxon of the same period.
Since its first representation, upwards of two centuries and a half
ago, no play has been acted so frequently, or commanded such
universal admiration. It draws within the sphere of its attraction
both the scholastic and the unlearned. It finds a response in every
breast, however high or however humble. By its colossal aid it exalts
the drama of England above that of every nation, past or present. It
is, indeed, the most marvellous creation of human intellect.
CHARLES KEAN.
HAMLET,
PRINCE OF DENMARK.
ACT I.
SCENE I.--ELSINORE. A PLATFORM BEFORE THE CASTLE. NIGHT.
FRANCISCO _on his post. Enter to him_ BERNARDO (L.H.)
_Ber._ Who's there?
_Fran._ (R.) Nay, answer me:[1] stand, and unfold[2] yourself.
_Ber._ Long live the king![3]
_Fran._ Bernardo?
_Ber._ He.
_Fran._ You come most carefully upon your hour.
_Ber._ 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco.
_Fran._ For this relief much thanks:
[_Crosses to_ L.]
'tis bitter cold,
And I am sick at heart.
_Ber._ Have you had quiet guard?
_Fran._ Not a mouse stirring.
_Ber._ Well, good night.
If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
The rivals of my watch,[4] bid them make haste.
_Fran._ I think I hear them.--Stand, ho! Who's there?
_Hor._ Friends to this ground.
_Mar._ And liegemen to the Dane.[5]
_Enter_ HORATIO _and_ MARCELLUS (L.H.)
_Fran._ Give you good night.
_Mar._ O, farewell, honest soldier:
Who hath reliev'd you?
_Fran._ Bernardo hath my place.
Give you good night.
[_Exit_ FRANCISCO, L.H.]
_Mar._ Holloa! Bernardo!
_Ber._ Say,
What, is Horatio there?
_Hor._ (_Crosses to_ C.) A piece of him.[6]
_Ber._ (R.) Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus.
_Hor._ What, has this thing appear'd again to-night?
_Ber._ I have seen nothing.
_Mar._ (L.) Horatio says, 'tis but our fantasy,
And will not let belief take hold of him,
Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us:
Therefore I have entreated him, along
With us, to watch the minutes of this night;[7]
That, if again this apparition come,
He may approve our eyes,[8] and speak to it.
_Hor._ Tush! tush! 'twill not appear.
_Ber._ Come, let us once again assail your ears,
That are so fortified against our story,
What we two nights have seen.[9]
_Hor._ Well, let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
_Ber._ Last night of all,
When yon same star that's westward from the pole
Had made his course to illume that part of heaven
Where now it burns, Marcellus, and myself,
The bell then beating one--
_Mar._ Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes
again!
_Enter_ Ghost (L.H.)
_Ber._ In the same figure, like the king that's dead.
_Hor._ Most like:--it harrows me with fear and wonder.[10]
_Ber._ It would be spoke to.
_Mar._ Speak to it, Horatio.
_Hor._ What art thou, that usurp'st this time of night,[11]
Together with that fair and warlike form
In which the majesty of buried Denmark
Did sometimes march? By heaven I charge thee, speak!
_Mar._ It is offended.
[Ghost _crosses to_ R.]
_Ber._ See! it stalks away!
_Hor._ Stay!--speak!--speak, I charge thee, speak!
[_Exit_ Ghost, R.H.]
_Mar._ 'Tis gone, and will not answer.
_Ber._ How now, Horatio! You tremble, and look pale:
Is not this something more than fantasy?
What think you of it?
_Hor._ Before heaven, I might not this believe,
Without the sensible and true avouch[12]
Of mine own eyes.
_Mar._ Is it not like the king?
_Hor._ As thou art to thyself:
Such was the very armour he had on,
When he the ambitious Norway combated.
_Mar._ Thus, twice before, and jump at this dead hour,[13]
With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
_Hor._ In what particular thought to work,[14] I know not;
But in the gross and scope[15] of mine opinion,
This bodes some strange eruption to our state.[16]
In the most high and palmy[17] state of Rome,
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets.
_Re-enter_ Ghost (R.H.)
But, (L.C.) soft, behold! lo, where it comes again!
I'll cross it, though it blast me.
[HORATIO _crosses in front of the_ Ghost _to_ R.
Ghost _crosses to_ L.]
Stay, illusion!
If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,[18]
Speak to me:
If there be any good thing to be done,
That may to thee do ease, and grace to me,
Speak to me:
If thou art privy to thy country's fate,
Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid,
O, speak!
O, if thou hast uphoarded in thy life
Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,[19]
For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,
Speak of it:--stay, and speak!
[_Exit_ Ghost, L.H.]
_Mar._ 'Tis gone!
We do it wrong, being so majestical,
To offer it the show of violence.
_Ber._ It was about to speak, when the cock crew.
_Hor._ And then it started like a guilty thing
Upon a fearful summons.[20] I have heard,
The cock, that is the trumpet of the morn,
Doth with his lofty[21] and shrill-sounding throat
Awake the god of day; and, at his warning,
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
The extravagant and erring spirit[22] hies
To his confine.
But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill:
Break we our watch up; and, by my advice,
Let us impart what we have seen to-night
Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,
This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.
[_Exeunt_, L.H.]
SCENE II.--A ROOM OF STATE IN THE PALACE.
_Trumpet March._
_Enter the_ KING _and_ QUEEN, _preceded by_ POLONIUS, HAMLET,
LAERTES,[23] Lords, Ladies, _and_ Attendants.
_King._ (R.C.) Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death
The memory be green;[24] and that it us befitted
To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom
To be contracted in one brow of woe;
Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature,
That we with wisest sorrow[25] think on him,
Together with remembrance of ourselves.
Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
The imperial jointress of this warlike state,
Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,[26]
Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr'd[27]
Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
With this affair along:--For all, our thanks.
And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?
You told us of some suit; What is't, Laertes?
_Laer._ (R.) My dread lord,
Your leave and favour[28] to return to France;
From whence though willingly I came to Denmark,
To show my duty in your coronation,
Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France,
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
_King._ Have you your father's leave? What says Polonious?
_Pol._ (R.) He hath, my lord, (wrung from me my slow leave
By laboursome petition; and, at last,
Upon his will I sealed my hard consent):[29]
I do beseech you, give him leave to go.
_King._ Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine,
And thy best graces spend it at thy will![30]
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,----
_Ham._ (L.) A little more than kin, and less than kind.[31]
[Aside.]
_King._ How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
_Ham._ Not so, my lord; I am too much i'the sun.[32]
_Queen._(L.C.) Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour[33] off,
And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Do not for ever with thy vailed lids[34]
Seek for thy noble father in the dust:
Thou know'st 'tis common, all that live must die,
Passing through nature to eternity.
_Ham._ Ay, madam, it is common.
_Queen._ If it be,
Why seems it so particular with thee?
_Ham._ Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems.
'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor the dejected haviour of the visage,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief,
That can denote me truly: These, indeed, seem,
For they are actions that a man might play.
But I have that within which passeth show;[35]
These but the trappings[36] and the suits of woe.
_King._ 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,
To give these mourning duties to your father:
But, you must know, your father lost a father;
That father lost, lost his;[37] and the survivor bound,
In filial obligation, for some term
To do obsequious sorrow:[38] But to perséver[39]
In obstinate condolement,[40] is a course
Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief:
It shows a will most incorrect to Heaven.[41]
We pray you, throw to earth
This unprevailing[42] woe; and think of us
As of a father: for let the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our throne;
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.
_Queen._ Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet:
I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.
_Ham._ I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
_King._ Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply;
Be as ourself in Denmark.--Madam, come;
This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart:[43] in grace whereof,[44]
No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day,[45]
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell;
Re-speaking earthly thunder.
[_Trumpet March repeated. Exeunt_ KING _and_ QUEEN,
_preceded by_ POLONIUS, Lords, Ladies, LAERTES, _and_
Attendants, R.H.]
_Ham._ O, that this too, too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself[46] into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon[47] 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world![48]
Fye on't! O fye! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
Possess it merely.[49] That it should come to this!
But two months dead!--nay, not so much, not two:
So excellent a king; that was, to this,
Hyperion to a satyr:[50] so loving to my mother,
That he might not beteem[51] the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on: And yet, within a month,--
Let me not think on't,--Frailty, thy name is Woman!--
A little month; or ere those shoes were old
With which she follow'd my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears;--she married with my uncle,
My father's brother; but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules.
It is not, nor it cannot come to, good:
But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue!
_Enter_ HORATIO, BERNARDO, _and_ MARCELLUS (R.H.)
_Hor._ Hail to your lordship!
_Ham._ I am glad to see you well:
Horatio,--or I do forget myself.
_Hor._ The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.
_Ham._ Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you:[52]
And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?--
Marcellus?
[_Crosses to_ C.]
_Mar._ (R.) My good lord,
_Ham._ (C.) I am very glad to see you; good even, sir.
[_To_ BERNARDO, R.]
But what, in faith,[53] make you[54] from Wittenberg?[55]
_Hor._ (L.) A truant disposition, good my lord.
_Ham._ I would not hear your enemy say so;
Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself: I know you are no truant.
But what is your affair in Elsinore?
We'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.
_Hor._ My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.
_Ham._ I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student;
I think it was to see my mother's wedding.
_Hor._ Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.
_Ham._ Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd meats
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
Would I had met my dearest foe[56] in Heaven
Ere ever I had seen that day, Horatio!
My father,--Methinks, I see my father.
_Hor._ Where,
My lord?
_Ham._ In my mind's eye, Horatio.
_Hor._ I saw him once; he was a goodly king.[57]
_Ham._ He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again.
[_Crosses to_ L.]
_Hor._ (C.) My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
_Ham._ Saw who?
_Hor._ My lord, the king your father.
_Ham._ The king my father!
_Hor._ Season your admiration for a while[58]
With an attent ear; till I may deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.
_Ham._ For Heaven's love, let me hear.
_Hor._ Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,
In the dead waste and middle of the night,[59]
Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,
Arm'd at all points exactly, cap-à-pé,
Appears before them, and, with solemn march
Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd
By their oppress'd and fear-surprisèd eyes,
Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distill'd
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,[60]
Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did;
And I with them the third night kept the watch:
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes.
_Ham._ But where was this?
[_Crosses to_ MARCELLUS.]
_Mar._ (R.) My lord, upon the platform where we
watch'd.
_Ham._ (C.) Did you not speak to it?
_Hor._ (L.) My lord, I did;
But answer made it none: yet once methought
It lifted up its head, and did address[61]
Itself to motion, like as it would speak:
But, even then, the morning cock crew loud,
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away;
And vanish'd from our sight.
_Ham._ 'Tis very strange.
_Hor._ As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true;
And we did think it writ down[62] in our duty
To let you know of it.
_Ham._ Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.
Hold you the watch to-night?
_Mar._ We do, my lord.
_Ham._ Arm'd, say you?
_Mar._ Arm'd, my lord.
_Ham._ From top to toe?
_Mar._ My lord, from head to foot.
_Ham._ Then saw you not
His face?
_Hor._ O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.[63]
_Ham._ What, looked he frowningly?
_Hor._ A countenance more
In sorrow than in anger.
_Ham._ Pale or red?
_Hor._ Nay, very pale.
_Ham._ And fix'd his eyes upon you?
_Hor._ Most constantly.
_Ham._ I would I had been there.
_Hor._ It would have much amaz'd you.
_Ham._ Very like,
Very like. Stay'd it long?
_Hor._ While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
_Mar._}
} Longer, Longer.
_Ber._}
_Hor._ Not when I saw it.
_Ham._ His beard was grizzl'd, No?
_Hor._ It was, as I have seen it in his life,
A sable silver'd.
_Ham._ I will watch to-night;
Perchance, 'twill walk again.
_Hor._ (C.) I warrant it will.
_Ham._ If it assume my noble father's person,
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape,
And bid me hold my peace.
[_Crosses to_ L.]
I pray you all,
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
Let it be tenable[64] in your silence still;
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue;
I will requite your loves. So, fare you well:
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.
_Hor._ (R.) Our duty to your honour.
_Ham._ Your loves, as mine to you: Farewell.
[_Exeunt_ HORATIO, MARCELLUS, _and_ BERNARDO, R.H.]
My father's spirit in arms! all is not well;
I doubt some foul play: 'would the night were come;
Till then sit still, my soul: Foul deeds will rise,
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.
[_Exit_, L.H.]
SCENE III.--A ROOM IN POLONIUS'S HOUSE.
_Enter_ LAERTES _and_ OPHELIA (R.H.)
_Laer._ (L.C.) My necessaries are embarked: farewell:
And, sister, as the winds give benefit,[65]
Let me hear from you.
_Oph._ (R.C.) Do you doubt that?
_Laer._ For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,[66]
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
The pérfume and suppliance of a minute.[67]
_Oph._ No more but so?
_Laer._ He may not, as unvalued persons do,
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
The safety and the health of the whole state.
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,
If with too credent ear you list his songs.
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister;
And keep within the rear of your affection,[68]
Out of the shot and danger of desire.
The chariest maid[69] is prodigal enough,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon:
Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes:
Be wary, then; best safety lies in fear:
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
_Oph._ I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,
As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven
Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,[70]
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own read.[71]
_Laer._ O, fear me not.
I stay too long;--but here my father comes.
_Enter_ POLONIUS (L.H.)
_Pol._ Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame!
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,[72]
And you are staid for. There,--my blessing with you!
[_Laying his hand on_ LAERTES' _head_.]
And these few precepts in thy memory--
Look thou charácter.[73] Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportion'd thought[74] his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,
Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:
Take each man's censure,[75] but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy:
For the apparel oft proclaims the man;
And they in France of the best rank and station
Are most select and generous, chief in that.[76]
Neither a borrower nor a lender be:
For loan oft loses both itself and friend;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.[77]
This above all,--To thine ownself be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell; my blessing season this in thee![78]
_Laer._ Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.
[_Crosses to_ L.]
Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well
What I have said to you.
_Oph._ (_Crosses to_ LAERTES.) 'Tis in my memory lock'd,
And you yourself shall keep the key of it.[79]
_Laer._ Farewell.
[_Exit_ LAERTES, L.H.]
_Pol._ What is it, Ophelia, he hath said to you?
_Oph._ So please you, something touching the lord Hamlet.
_Pol._ Marry, well bethought:
'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late
Given private time to you;[80] and you yourself
Have of your audience been most free and bounteous:
If it be so (as so 'tis put on me,[81]
And that in way of caution), I must tell you,
You do not understand yourself so clearly
As it behoves my daughter, and your honour.
What is between[82] you? give me up the truth.
_Oph._ He hath, my lord, of late, made many tenders
Of his affection to me.
_Pol._ Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl,
Unsifted[83] in such perilous circumstance.
Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?
_Oph._ I do not know, my lord, what I should think.
_Pol._ Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby;
That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,
Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly;
Or, you'll tender me a fool.
_Oph._ My lord, he hath impórtun'd me with love
In honourable fashion.
_Pol._ Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.
_Oph._ And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,
With almost all the holy vows of heaven.
_Pol._ Ay, springes to catch woodcocks.[84] I do know,
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
Lends the tongue vows: This is for all,--
I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
Have you so slander any leisure moment,[85]
As to give words or talk with the lord Hamlet.
Look to't, I charge you: come your ways.
_Oph._ I shall obey, my lord.
[_Exeunt_, R.H.]
SCENE IV.--THE PLATFORM. NIGHT.
_Enter_ HAMLET, HORATIO, _and_ MARCELLUS (L.H.U.E.)
_Ham._ The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.
_Hor._ It is a nipping and an eager air.[86]
_Ham._ What hour now?
_Hor._ I think it lacks of twelve.
_Mar._ No, it is struck.
_Hor._ (R.C.) Indeed? I heard it not: then it draws near the season,
Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.
[_A Flourish of Trumpets, and Ordnance shot off without._]
What does this mean, my lord?
_Ham._ (L.C.) The king doth wake to-night,[87] and takes his
rouse,[88]
And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,
The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out
The triumph of his pledge.
_Hor._ Is it a custom?
_Ham._ Ay, marry, is't:
[_Crosses to_ HORATIO.]
But to my mind,--though I am native here,
And to the manner born,--it is a custom
More honour'd in the breach than the observance.
_Enter_ Ghost (L.H.)
_Hor._ (R.H.) Look, my lord, it comes!
_Ham._ (C.) Angels and ministers of grace defend us!--
Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd,
Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
Be thy intents wicked or charitable,
Thou com'st in such a questionable shape,[89]
That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee--Hamlet,
King, father: Royal Dane: O, answer me!
Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,[90]
Have burst their cerements;[91] why the sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To cast thee up again! What may this mean,
That thou, dead corse, again, in cómplete steel,
Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous; and we fools of nature[92]
So horridly to shake our disposition[93]
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?
[Ghost _beckons._]
_Hor._ It beckons you to go away with it,
As if it some impartment did desire
To you alone.
[Ghost _beckons again._]
_Mar._ Look, with what courteous action
It waves you to a more removèd ground:[94]
But do not go with it.
_Hor._ No, by no means.
_Ham._ It will not speak; then I will follow it.
_Hor._ Do not, my lord.
_Ham._ Why, what should be the fear?
I do not set my life at a pin's fee;[95]
And for my soul, what can it do to that,
Being a thing immortal as itself?
[Ghost _beckons._]
It waves me forth again;--I'll follow it.
_Hor._ What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord,[96]
Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff
That beetles o'er his base into the sea,[97]
And there assume some other horrible form,
And draw you into madness?
[Ghost _beckons._]
_Ham._ It waves me still.--
Go on; I'll follow thee.
_Mar._ You shall not go, my lord.
_Ham._ Hold off your hands.
_Hor._ Be rul'd; you shall not go.
_Ham._ My fate cries out,
And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Némean lion's nerve.[98]
[Ghost _beckons_]
Still am I call'd:--unhand me, gentlemen;
[_Breaking from them._]
By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me:--[99]
I say, away!--Go on; I'll follow thee.
[_Exeunt_ Ghost _and_ HAMLET, L.H., _followed at a distance by_
HORATIO _and_ MARCELLUS.]
SCENE V.--A MORE REMOTE PART OF THE PLATFORM. NIGHT.
_Re-enter_ Ghost _and_ HAMLET (L.H.U.E.)
_Ham._ (R.) Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak; I'll go no further.
_Ghost._ (L.) Mark me.
_Ham._ I will.
_Ghost._ My hour is almost come,
When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames
Must render up myself.
_Ham._ Alas, poor ghost!
_Ghost._ Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold.
_Ham._ Speak; I am bound to hear.
_Ghost._ So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.
_Ham._ What?
_Ghost._ I am thy father's spirit;
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,
And for the day confin'd to fast in fires,[100]
Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul;[101] freeze thy young blood;
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres;
Thy knotted and combinèd locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end,[102]
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:[103]
But this eternal blazon[104] must not be
To ears of flesh and blood.--List, list, O, list!--
If thou didst ever thy dear father love,----
_Ham._ O Heaven!
_Ghost._ Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.
_Ham._ Murder!
_Ghost._ Murder most foul, as in the best it is;
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
_Ham._ Haste me to know it, that I, with wings as swift
As meditation or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.
_Ghost._ I find thee apt;
And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,[105]
Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:
'Tis given out that, sleeping in mine orchard,[106]
A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process[107] of my death
Rankly abus'd: but know, thou noble youth,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life
Now wears his crown.
_Ham._ O, my prophetic soul! my uncle!
_Ghost._ Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,
Won to his shameful lust
The will of my most seeming virtuous queen:
O, Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!
From me, whose love was of that dignity,
That it went hand in hand even with the vow
I made to her in marriage; and to decline
Upon a wretch,[108] whose natural gifts were poor
To those of mine!
But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air;
Brief let me be.--Sleeping within mine orchard,
My custom always in the afternoon,
Upon my secure[109] hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of cursed hebenon[110] in a vial,
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
The leperous distilment; whose effect
Holds such an enmity with blood of man,
That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through
The natural gates and alleys of the body;
So did it mine;
Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand
Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despatch'd:[111]
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd;[112]
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head.
_Ham._ O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
_Ghost._ If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury[113] and damnèd incest.
But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act,
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
Against thy mother aught: leave her to Heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!
The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his ineffectual fire:[114]
Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me.
[_Exit_, L.H.]
_Ham._ Hold, hold, my heart;
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me stiffly up.--Remember thee!
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe.[115] Remember thee!
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all forms, all pressures past,[116]
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven,
I have sworn't.
_Hor._ (_Without._) My lord, my lord,----
_Mar._ (_Without._) Lord Hamlet,----
_Hor._ (_Without._) Heaven secure him!
_Ham._ So be it!
_Mar._ (_Without._) Illo, ho, ho, my lord!
_Ham._ Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come.[117]
_Enter_ HORATIO _and_ MARCELLUS (L.H.U.E.)
_Mar._ (R.) How is't, my noble lord?
_Hor._ (L.) What news, my lord?
_Ham._ (C.) O, wonderful!
_Hor._ Good my lord, tell it.
_Ham._ No;
You will reveal it.
_Hor._ Not I, my lord, by heaven.
_Mar._ Nor I, my lord.
_Ham._ How say you, then; would heart of man once think it?
But you'll be secret?--
_Hor._}
} Ay, by heaven, my lord.
_Mar._}
_Ham._ There's ne'er a villain, dwelling in all Denmark--
But he's an arrant knave.[118]
_Hor._ There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
To tell us this.
_Ham._ Why, right; you are in the right;
And so, without more circumstance at all,
I hold it fit that we shake hands, and part:
You as your business and desire shall point you,
For every man hath business and desire,
Such as it is;--and, for my own poor part,
Look you, I will go pray.
_Hor._ These are but wild and whirling words,[119] my lord.
_Ham._ I am sorry they offend you, heartily.
_Hor._ There's no offence, my lord.
_Ham._ Yes, by Saint Patrick,[120] but there is, Horatio,
And much offence, too. Touching this vision here,
It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you:
For your desire to know what is between us,
O'er-master it[121] as you may. And now, good friends,
As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,
Give me one poor request.
_Hor._ What is't, my lord?
We will.
_Ham._ Never make known what you have seen to-night.
_Hor._}
} My lord, we will not.
_Mar._}
_Ham._ Nay, but swear't.
_Hor._ Propose the oath, my lord.
_Ham._ Never to speak of this that you have seen.
Swear by my sword.
[HORATIO _and_ MARCELLUS _place each their right
hand on_ HAMLET'S _sword._]
_Ghost._ (_Beneath._) Swear.
_Hor._ O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!
_Ham._ And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.[122]
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
But come;--
Here, as before, never, so help you mercy,
How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself,
As I, perchance, hereafter shall think meet
To put an antick disposition[123] on,--
That you, at such times seeing me, never shall,
With arms encumber'd thus,[124] or this head-shake,
Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,
As, _Well, we know_; or, _We could, an if we would_; or, _If
we list to speak_;--or, _There be, an if they might_;--
Or such ambiguous giving out, to note
That you know aught of me:--This do you swear,
So grace and mercy at your most need help you!
[HORATIO _and_ MARCELLUS _again place their hands on_ HAMLET'S
_sword._]
_Ghost._ (_Beneath._) Swear.
_Ham._ Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So gentlemen,
With all my love I do commend me to you:
And what so poor a man as Hamlet is
May do, to express his love and friending to you,
Heaven willing, shall not lack.[125] Let us go in together;
[_Crosses to_ L.]
And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.
The time is out of joint;--O cursèd spite,
That ever I was born to set it right!
Nay, come, let's go together.
[_Exeunt_ L.H.]
END OF ACT FIRST.
Notes
Act I
[Footnote I.1: _Me:_] _i.e., me_ who am already on the watch, and
have a right to demand the watch-word.]
[Footnote I.2: _Unfold_] Announce, make known.]
[Footnote I.3: _Long live the King._] The watch-word.]
[Footnote I.4: _The rivals of my watch_,] _Rivals_, for partners
or associates.]
[Footnote I.5: _And liegemen to the Dane._] _i.e._, owing
allegiance to Denmark.]
[Footnote I.6: _A piece of him._] Probably a cant expression.]
[Footnote I.7: _To watch the minutes of this night_; This seems
to have been an expression common in Shakespeare's time.]
[Footnote I.8: _Approve our eyes_,] To _approve_, in
Shakespeare's age, signified to make good or establish.]
[Footnote I.9: _What we have seen._] We must here supply "with,"
or "by relating" before "what we have seen."]
[Footnote I.10: _It harrows me with fear and wonder._] _i.e._, it
confounds and overwhelms me.]
[Footnote I.11: _Usurp'st this time of night_,] _i.e._, abuses,
uses against right, and the order of things.]
[Footnote I.12: _I might not this believe, &c._] I _could_ not:
it had not been permitted me, &c., without the full and perfect
evidence, &c.]
[Footnote I.13: _Jump at this dead hour_,] _Jump_ and _just_ were
synonymous in Shakespeare's time.]
[Footnote I.14: _In what particular thought to work_,] In what
particular course to set my thoughts at work: in what particular
train to direct the mind and exercise it in conjecture.]
[Footnote I.15: _Gross and scope_] Upon the whole, and in a
general view.]
[Footnote I.16: _Bodes some strange eruption to our state_,]
_i.e._, some political distemper, which will break out in
dangerous consequences.]
[Footnote I.17: _Palmy state_] Outspread, flourishing. Palm
branches were the emblem of victory.]
[Footnote I.18: _Sound, or use of voice_,] Articulation.]
[Footnote I.19:
_Uphoarded in thy life
Extorted treasure in the womb of earth_,]
So in Decker's Knight's Conjuring, &c. "If any of them had bound
the spirit of gold by any charmes _in cares_, or in iron fetters,
_under the ground_, they should, _for their own soule's quiet
(which, questionless, else would whine up and down_,) not for the
good of their children, release it."]
[Footnote I.20:
_And then it started like a guilty thing
Upon a fearful summons._]
Apparitions were supposed to fly from the crowing of the cock,
because it indicated the approach of day.]
[Footnote I.21: _Lofty_] High and loud.]
[Footnote I.22: _The extravagant and erring spirit_]
_Extravagant_ is, got out of his bounds. _Erring_ is here used in
the sense of wandering.]
[Footnote I.23: Laertes is unknown in the original story, being
an introduction of Shakespeare's.]
[Footnote I.24: _Green_;] Fresh.]
[Footnote I.25: _Wisest sorrow_] Sober grief, passion discreetly
reined.]
[Footnote I.26: _With a defeated joy_,] _i.e._, with joy baffled;
with joy interrupted by grief.]
[Footnote I.27: _Barr'd_] Excluded--acted without the concurrence
of.]
[Footnote I.28: _Your leave and favour_] The favour of your leave
granted, the kind permission. Two substantives with a copulative
being here, as is the frequent practice of our author, used for
an adjective and substantive: an adjective sense is given to a
substantive.]
[Footnote I.29: _Upon his will I sealed my hard consent:_] At or
upon his earnest and importunate suit, I gave my full and final,
though hardly obtained and reluctant, consent.]
[Footnote I.30:
_Take thy fair hour! time be thine;
And thy best graces spend it at thy will!_]
Catch the auspicious moment! be time thine own! and may the
exercise of thy fairest virtue fill up those hours, that are
wholly at your command!]
[Footnote I.31: _A little more than kin, and less than kind._]
Dr. Johnson says that _kind_ is the Teutonic word for _child_.
Hamlet, therefore, answers to the titles of _cousin_ and _son_,
which the king had given him, that he was somewhat more than
_cousin_, and less than _son_. Steevens remarks, that it seems to
have been another proverbial phrase: "The nearer we are in blood,
the further we must be from love; the greater the _kindred_ is,
the less the _kindness_ must be." _Kin_ is still used in the
Midland Counties for _cousin_, and _kind_ signifies _nature_.
Hamlet may, therefore, mean that the relationship between them
had become _unnatural_.]
[Footnote I.32: _I am too much i'the sun._] Meaning, probably,
his being sent for from his studies to be exposed at his uncle's
marriage as his _chiefest courtier_, and being thereby placed too
much in the radiance of the king's presence; or, perhaps, an
allusion to the proverb, "_Out of Heaven's blessing, into the
warm sun:_" but it is not unlikely that a quibble is meant
between _son_ and _sun_.]
[Footnote I.33: _Nighted colour_] Black--night-like.]
[Footnote I.34: _Vailed lids_] Cast down.]
[Footnote I.35: _Which passeth show_;] _i.e._, "external manners
of lament."]
[Footnote I.36: _Trappings_] _Trappings_ are "furnishings."]
[Footnote I.37: _That father lost, lost his_;] "That lost father
(of your father, _i.e._, your grandfather), or father so lost,
lost his.]"
[Footnote I.38: _Do obsequious sorrow:_] Follow with becoming and
ceremonious observance the memory of the deceased.]
[Footnote I.39: _But to perséver_] This word was anciently
accented on the second syllable.]
[Footnote I.40: _Obstinate condolement_,] Ceaseless and
unremitted expression of grief.]
[Footnote I.41: _Incorrect to Heaven._] Contumacious towards
Heaven.]
[Footnote I.42: _Unprevailing_] Fruitless, unprofitable.]
[Footnote I.43: _Sits smiling to my heart:_] _To_ is _at_:
gladdens my heart.]
[Footnote I.44: _In grace whereof_,] _i.e._, respectful regard or
honour of which.]
[Footnote I.45: _No jocund health, that Denmark drinks to-day_,]
Dr. Johnson remarks, that the king's intemperance is very
strongly impressed; everything that happens to him gives him
occasion to drink. The Danes were supposed to be hard drinkers.]
[Footnote I.46: _Resolve itself_] _To resolve_ is an old word
signifying _to dissolve_.]
[Footnote I.47: _His canon_] _i.e._, his rule or law].
[Footnote I.48: _The uses of this world!_] _i.e._, the habitudes
and usages of life.]
[Footnote I.49: _Merely._] Wholly--entirely.]
[Footnote I.50: _Hyperion to a satyr:_] An allusion to the
exquisite beauty of Apollo, compared with the deformity of a
satyr; that satyr, perhaps, being Pan, the brother of Apollo. Our
great poet is here guilty of a false quantity, by calling
Hyperíon, Hypérion, a mistake not unusual among our English
poets.]
[Footnote I.51: _Might not beteem_] _i.e._, might not allow,
permit.]
[Footnote I.52: _I'll change that name with you._] _i.e._, do not
call yourself my _servant_, you are my _friend_; so I shall call
you, and so I would have you call me.]
[Footnote I.53: _In faith._] Faithfully, in pure and simple
verity.]
[Footnote I.54: _But what make you_] What is your object? What
are you doing?]
[Footnote I.55: _What, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?_] In
Shakespeare's time there was a university at Wittenberg; but as
it was not founded till 1502, it consequently did not exist in
the time to which this play refers.]
[Footnote I.56: _My dearest foe_] _i.e._, my direst or most
important foe. This epithet was commonly used to denote the
strongest and liveliest interest in any thing or person, for or
against.]
[Footnote I.57: _Goodly king._] _i.e._, a good king.]
[Footnote I.58:
_Season your admiration for a while
with an attent ear_;]
_i.e._, suppress your astonishment for a short time, that you may
be the better able to give your attention to what we will
relate.]
[Footnote I.59: _In the dead waste and middle of the night_,]
_i.e._, in the dark and desolate vast, or vacant space and middle
of the night. It was supposed that spirits had permission to
range the earth by night alone.]
[Footnote I.60: _With the act of fear_,] _i.e._, by the influence
or power of fear.]
[Footnote I.61: _Address_] _i.e._, make ready.]
[Footnote I.62: _Writ down_] Prescribed by our own duty.]
[Footnote I.63: _He wore his beaver up._] That part of the helmet
which may be lifted up, to take breath the more freely.]
[Footnote I.64: _Tenable_] _i.e._, strictly maintained.]
[Footnote I.65: _Benefit_,] Favourable means.]
[Footnote I.66: _Trifling of his favour_,] Gay and thoughtless
intimation.]
[Footnote I.67: _Pérfume and suppliance of a minute._] _i.e._, an
amusement to fill up a vacant moment, and render it agreeable.]
[Footnote I.68: _Keep within the rear of your affection_,] Front
not the peril; withdraw or check every warm emotion: advance not
so far as your affection would lead you.]
[Footnote I.69: _The chariest maid_] Chary is cautious.]
[Footnote I.70: _Puff'd and reckless libertine._] Bloated and
swollen, the effect of excess; and heedless and indifferent to
consequences.]
[Footnote I.71: _Recks not his own read._] _i.e._, heeds not his
own lessons or counsel.]
[Footnote I.72: _Shoulder of your sail_,] A common sea phrase.]
[Footnote I.73: _Look thou charácter._] _i.e._, a word often used
by Shakespeare to signify to _write, strongly infix_; the accent
is on the second syllable.]
[Footnote I.74: _Unproportion'd thought_] Irregular, disorderly
thought.]
[Footnote I.75: _Each man's censure_,] Sentiment, opinion.]
[Footnote I.76: _Chief in that._] _i.e._, chiefly in that.]
[Footnote I.77: _Husbandry_] _i.e._, thrift, economical
prudence.]
[Footnote I.78: _Season this in thee!_] _i.e._, infix it in such
a manner as that it may never wear out.]
[Footnote I.79: _Yourself shall keep the key of it._] Thence it
shall not be dismissed, till you think it needless to retain it.]
[Footnote I.80: _Given private time to you_;] Spent his time in
private visits to you.]
[Footnote I.81: _As so 'tis put on me_,] Suggested to, impressed
on me.]
[Footnote I.82: _Is between_] _i.e._, what has passed--what
intercourse had.]
[Footnote I.83: _Green girl, Unsifted_] _i.e._, inexperienced
girl. Unsifted means one who has not nicely _canvassed_ and
examined the peril of her situation.]
[Footnote I.84: _Woodcocks._] Witless things.]
[Footnote I.85: _Slander any leisure moment_,] _i.e._, I would
not have you so disgrace your most idle moments, as not to find
better employment for them than lord Hamlet's conversation.]
[Footnote I.86: _An eager air._] _Eager_ here means _sharp_, from
_aigre_, French.]
[Footnote I.87: _Doth wake to-night_,] _i.e._, holds a late
revel.]
[Footnote I.88: _Takes his rouse_,] _Rouse_ means drinking bout,
carousal.]
[Footnote I.89: _Questionable shape_,] To _question_, in our
author's time, signified to _converse_. Questionable, therefore,
means _capable of being conversed with._]
[Footnote I.90: _Hearsed in death_,] Deposited with the
accustomed funeral rites.]
[Footnote I.91: _Cerements_;] Those precautions usually adopted
in preparing dead bodies for sepulture.]
[Footnote I.92: _Fools of nature_] _i.e._, making sport for
nature.]
[Footnote I.93: _Disposition_] Frame of mind and body.]
[Footnote I.94: _Removèd ground:_] _Removed_ for _remote_.]
[Footnote I.95: _At a pin's fee_;] _i.e._, the value of a pin.]
[Footnote I.96: _What if it tempt you toward the flood, &c._]
Malignant spirits were supposed to entice their victims into
places of gloom and peril, and exciting in them the deepest
terror.]
