Hamlet Act 2 Scene 2
A room in the castle.
The Original
Plain Modern English
Enter King Claudius, Queen Gertrude, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Attendants.
Claudius
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 call it,
Sith nor the 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 the understanding of himself,
I cannot dream of: I entreat you both,
That, being of so young days brought up with him,
And sith so neighbour'd to his youth and havior,
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.
Claudius
Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern!
Besides very much wanting to see you,
we have a need for your services, which prompted
this hurried summons. You'll have heard something
of Hamlet's 'transformation' — call it that,
since neither the outer nor the inner man
resembles what he was. What it could be,
beyond his father's death, that has knocked him
so far out of his own understanding,
I can't imagine. I beg you both —
since you were raised with him from childhood
and know his youth and his habits so closely —
that you agree to stay here at our court
for a little while, so that your company
might draw him back to enjoying himself, and so you can gather,
as far as opportunity allows,
whether something we don't know about is troubling him
that we could cure once it's out in the open.
Gertrude
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.
Gertrude
Good gentlemen, he's spoken of you often,
and I'm certain there aren't two men alive
he's more attached to. If you'd be so good
as to show us the courtesy and goodwill
of spending some time with us,
to support and advance our hopes,
your visit will be rewarded
as generously as a king can reward it.
Rosencrantz
Both your majesties
Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,
Put your dread pleasures more into command
Than to entreaty.
Rosencrantz
Both Your Majesties
have royal authority over us and could
simply command us
rather than ask.
Guildenstern
But we both obey,
And here give up ourselves, in the full bent
To lay our service freely at your feet,
To be commanded.
Guildenstern
But we both obey,
and here surrender ourselves completely,
laying our service at your feet,
to be commanded.
Claudius
Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.
Claudius
Thank you, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.
Gertrude
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.
Gertrude
Thank you, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz. (Neither of them can tell the two apart. Nobody in the play ever can.)
And please go at once and visit
my much-changed son. Some of you, go
and take these gentlemen to Hamlet.
Guildenstern
Heavens make our presence and our practises
Pleasant and helpful to him!
Guildenstern
May heaven make our presence and our efforts
pleasant and helpful to him.
Gertrude
Ay, amen!
Gertrude
Amen to that.
Exeunt Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and some Attendants. Enter Polonius.
Polonius
The ambassadors from Norway, my good lord,
Are joyfully return'd.
Polonius
The ambassadors from Norway, my good lord,
are back, and in high spirits.
Claudius
Thou still hast been the father of good news.
Claudius
You've always been the bearer of good news.
Polonius
Have I, my lord? I assure 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 used to do, that I have found
The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.
Polonius
Have I, my lord? I promise you, my king,
I hold my duty as I hold my soul —
owed both to God and to my gracious king.
And I believe — or else this brain of mine
no longer follows a political scent as surely
as it used to — that I have found
the exact cause of Hamlet's madness.
Claudius
O, speak of that; that do I long to hear.
Claudius
Tell me — I'm longing to hear it.
Polonius
Give first admittance to the ambassadors;
My news shall be the fruit to that great feast.
Polonius
Let the ambassadors in first.
My news will be the dessert after that banquet.
Claudius
Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in.
Claudius
Do them the honour of escorting them in yourself.
Exit Polonius.
Claudius
He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found
The head and source of all your son's distemper.
Claudius
He tells me, dear Gertrude, that he's found
the root and origin of your son's disorder.
Gertrude
I doubt it is no other but the main;
His father's death, and our o'erhasty marriage.
Gertrude
I suspect it's nothing but the obvious thing:
his father's death, and our over-hasty marriage. (She knows exactly what's wrong. Nobody asks her again.)
Claudius
Well, we shall sift him.
Claudius
Well — we'll question him closely.
Re-enter Polonius, with Voltimand and Cornelius.
Claudius
Welcome, my good friends!
Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway?
Claudius
Welcome, my good friends!
Tell me, Voltimand — what news from our brother of Norway?
Voltimand
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 grieved,
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 the 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,
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.
Voltimand
He returns your greetings and good wishes warmly.
At our first request he sent orders to stop
his nephew's troop-raising, which he had believed
was preparation for a war against Poland.
But looking into it properly, he found
it was aimed at Your Highness. Upset that
his illness, age and weakness
had been exploited, he issued orders
against Fortinbras — who, in short, obeyed,
was scolded by his uncle, and finally
swore before him never again
to attempt war against Your Majesty.
At which old Norway, overjoyed,
granted him three thousand crowns a year
and permission to use those soldiers,
already raised, against Poland instead —
with a request, set out here,
that you'd be willing to grant safe passage
through your territory for this campaign,
under whatever safeguards and conditions
are laid out in the document.
Claudius
It likes us well;
And at our more consider'd time well 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!
Claudius
This pleases us.
When we've had time to read it properly,
we'll reply and consider the matter.
Meanwhile, thank you for your good work.
Go and rest. Tonight we'll feast together.
Welcome home!
Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius.
Polonius
This business is well ended.
My liege, and madam, to expostulate
What majesty should be, what duty is,
Why day is day, night 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.
Polonius
That business is nicely concluded.
My lord, and madam — to discuss at length
what royalty ought to be, what duty is,
why day is day, night is night, and time is time,
would be nothing but a waste of night, day and time.
So, since brevity is the soul of wit,
and long-windedness is just limbs and decoration,
I'll be brief. Your noble son is mad.
I call it mad — because to define true madness,
what is it but to be nothing other than mad?
But let that pass. (He has just used forty words to say nothing, immediately after praising brevity.)
Gertrude
More matter, with less art.
Gertrude
More substance, less style.
Polonius
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.
Polonius
Madam, I swear I'm using no style at all.
That he's mad is true. It's true it's a pity,
and it's a pity it's true — a silly turn of phrase.
But away with it, since I'm using no style.
So let's grant he's mad. What remains
is to find the cause of this effect —
or rather, the cause of this defect,
since this defective effect has a cause.
So that's what remains, and the remainder is this. Consider:
I have a daughter — have, while she's still mine —
who, out of duty and obedience, note,
gave me this. Now listen, and draw conclusions.
He reads a letter.
Polonius
'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:
'In her excellent white bosom, these, & c.'
Polonius
'To the heavenly idol of my soul, the most
beautified Ophelia' —
that's a poor phrase, a vile phrase. 'Beautified' is
a vile phrase. But listen on. Like this:
'In her excellent white bosom, these, etcetera.'
Gertrude
Came this from Hamlet to her?
Gertrude
Did Hamlet send her this?
Polonius
Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful.
'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.
Polonius
Wait a moment, madam — I'll read it accurately.
'Doubt that the stars are fire,
doubt that the sun moves,
doubt that truth itself is true —
but never doubt that I love you.
Dear Ophelia, I'm bad at this verse-writing;
I have no skill for tallying up my sighs. But that
I love you best, oh best of all — believe that. Goodbye.
Yours forever, dearest lady, as long as
this body is still his. HAMLET.'
My daughter obediently showed me this,
and beyond that, she's told me all his advances —
when they happened, how, and where —
every one of them.
Claudius
But how hath she
Received his love?
Claudius
But how has she
received his love?
Polonius
What do you think of me?
Polonius
What do you think of me?
Claudius
As of a man faithful and honourable.
Claudius
As a loyal and honourable man.
Polonius
I would fain prove so. But what might you think,
When I had seen this hot love on the wing—
As I perceived 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 precepts 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.
Polonius
I'd like to prove it. But what would you have thought
when I saw this hot love taking flight —
and I did notice it, I must tell you,
before my daughter told me — what would you,
or Your Majesty the Queen here, have thought
if I'd acted like a desk or a notebook,
or made my heart look the other way, silent and dumb,
or watched this love with a lazy eye?
What would you have thought? No — I got straight to work,
and I said this to my young lady:
'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of your league.
This must not happen.' Then I gave her instructions
to lock herself away from his visits,
admit no messengers, accept no gifts.
She duly took my advice.
And he, rejected — to cut it short —
fell into sadness, then into fasting,
then into sleeplessness, then into weakness,
then into light-headedness, and by that decline
into the madness he now raves in,
and which we're all mourning.
Claudius
Do you think 'tis this?
Claudius
Do you think that's it?
Gertrude
It may be, very likely.
Gertrude
It may well be.
Polonius
Hath there been such a time—I'd fain know that—
That I have positively said 'Tis so,'
When it proved otherwise?
Polonius
Has there ever been a time — I'd like to know —
when I said definitely 'it is so'
and it turned out otherwise?
Claudius
Not that I know.
Claudius
Not that I know of.
Polonius
Take this from this, if this be otherwise:
If circumstances lead me, I will find
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
Within the centre.
Polonius
Take my head off my shoulders if I'm wrong.
If the evidence leads me, I'll find
where the truth is hidden, even if it's buried
at the centre of the earth.
Claudius
How may we try it further?
Claudius
How can we test this further?
Polonius
You know, sometimes he walks four hours together
Here in the lobby.
Polonius
You know he sometimes walks for four hours at a stretch
here in the hall.
Gertrude
So he does indeed.
Gertrude
He does indeed.
Polonius
At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him:
Be you and I behind an arras then;
Mark the encounter: if he love her not
And be not from his reason fall'n thereon,
Let me be no assistant for a state,
But keep a farm and carters.
Polonius
At such a time I'll turn my daughter loose on him.
You and I will hide behind a tapestry
and watch the encounter. If he doesn't love her,
and hasn't lost his reason over it,
then let me stop advising a government
and go run a farm with carthorses. ('Loose my daughter to him' is the language of putting an animal to stud. He is her father.)
Claudius
We will try it.
Claudius
We'll try it.
Gertrude
But, look, where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.
Gertrude
But look — here the poor thing comes, reading, so sadly.
Polonius
Away, I do beseech you, both away:
I'll board him presently.
Polonius
Go, both of you, please —
I'll approach him right away.
Exeunt Claudius, Gertrude, and Attendants. Enter Hamlet, reading.
Polonius
O, give me leave:
How does my good Lord Hamlet?
Polonius
Excuse me —
how is my good Lord Hamlet?
Hamlet
Well, God-a-mercy.
Hamlet
Well, thank God.
Polonius
Do you know me, my lord?
Polonius
Do you know who I am, my lord?
Hamlet
Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.
Hamlet
Perfectly well. You're a fishmonger. (Slang for a pimp. He is calling Polonius a man who sells his daughter.)
Polonius
Not I, my lord.
Polonius
I'm not, my lord.
Hamlet
Then I would you were so honest a man.
Hamlet
Then I wish you were as honest as one.
Polonius
Honest, my lord!
Polonius
Honest, my lord?
Hamlet
Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be
one man picked out of ten thousand.
Hamlet
Yes, sir. To be honest, the way this world is going, is to be
one man in ten thousand.
Polonius
That's very true, my lord.
Polonius
That's very true, my lord.
Hamlet
For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a
god kissing carrion,—Have you a daughter?
Hamlet
If the sun breeds maggots in a dead dog — a god
kissing rotten meat — do you have a daughter?
Polonius
I have, my lord.
Polonius
I do, my lord.
Hamlet
Let her not walk i' the sun: conception is a
blessing: but not as your daughter may conceive.
Friend, look to 't.
Hamlet
Don't let her walk in the sun. Conceiving is a
blessing — but not the way your daughter might conceive.
Watch out for that, friend.
Polonius
How say you by that? Still harping on my
daughter: yet he knew me not at first; he said I
was a fishmonger: he is far gone, far gone: and
truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for
love; very near this. I'll speak to him again.
What do you read, my lord?
Polonius
(to himself) What do you make of that? Still going on about my
daughter. And he didn't know me at first — he said I
was a fishmonger. He's far gone, far gone. Truthfully,
in my youth I suffered terribly for
love — very much like this. I'll speak to him again.
What are you reading, my lord?
Hamlet
Words, words, words.
Hamlet
Words, words, words.
Polonius
What is the matter, my lord?
Polonius
What is the matter, my lord?
Hamlet
Between who?
Hamlet
Between who? (Polonius means 'what's it about.' Hamlet takes 'matter' as 'quarrel.')
Polonius
I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.
Polonius
I mean the subject matter of what you're reading, my lord.
Hamlet
Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here
that old men have grey beards, that their faces are
wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber and
plum-tree gum and that they have a plentiful lack of
wit, together with most weak hams: all which, sir,
though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet
I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down, for
yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if like a crab
you could go backward.
Hamlet
Slanders, sir. This satirical rascal says here
that old men have grey beards, that their faces are
wrinkled, that their eyes ooze thick yellow
gum, and that they have a plentiful lack of
brains, along with very weak thighs. All of which, sir,
although I most powerfully and completely believe,
I don't think it decent to write down. Because
you yourself, sir, would be as young as me if you could
walk backwards like a crab.
Polonius
Though this be madness, yet there is method
in 't. Will you walk out of the air, my lord?
Polonius
(to himself) Though this is madness, there's a method
in it. — Will you come in out of the open air, my lord?
Hamlet
Into my grave.
Hamlet
Into my grave.
Polonius
Indeed, that is out o' the air.
Polonius
Well — that certainly is out of the air.
Polonius
How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a happiness
that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity
could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will
leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of
meeting between him and my daughter.—My honourable
lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.
Polonius
(to himself) How meaningful his answers sometimes are! A knack
that madness often hits on, which reason and sanity
couldn't produce so successfully. I'll
leave him and quickly arrange a
meeting between him and my daughter. — My honourable
lord, I'll most humbly take my leave of you.
Hamlet
You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will
more willingly part withal: except my life, except
my life, except my life.
Hamlet
Sir, there's nothing you could take from me that I'd
give up more gladly — except my life, except
my life, except my life.
Polonius
Fare you well, my lord.
Polonius
Farewell, my lord.
Hamlet
These tedious old fools!
Hamlet
These tiresome old fools.
Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
Polonius
You go to seek the Lord Hamlet; there he is.
Polonius
You're looking for Lord Hamlet — there he is.
Rosencrantz
God save you, sir!
Rosencrantz
God save you, sir!
Exit Polonius.
Guildenstern
My honoured lord!
Guildenstern
My honoured lord!
Rosencrantz
My most dear lord!
Rosencrantz
My dearest lord!
Hamlet
My excellent good friends! How dost thou,
Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both?
Hamlet
My excellent good friends! How are you,
Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads — how are you both?
Rosencrantz
As the indifferent children of the earth.
Rosencrantz
Like ordinary, middling children of the earth.
Guildenstern
Happy, in that we are not over-happy;
On fortune's cap we are not the very button.
Guildenstern
Happy in that we're not too happy.
We're not the button on top of Fortune's cap.
Hamlet
Nor the soles of her shoe?
Hamlet
Nor the soles of her shoes?
Rosencrantz
Neither, my lord.
Rosencrantz
Neither, my lord.
Hamlet
Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of
her favours?
Hamlet
So you live around her waist, or in the middle of
her favours?
Guildenstern
'Faith, her privates we.
Guildenstern
Honestly — we're her private parts. (Also 'private soldiers.' The joke is doing two jobs.)
Hamlet
In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she
is a strumpet. What's the news?
Hamlet
In Fortune's secret parts? Very true — she's
a whore. What's the news?
Rosencrantz
None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest.
Rosencrantz
None, my lord — except that the world's grown honest.
Hamlet
Then is doomsday near: but your news is not true.
Let me question more in particular: what have you,
my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune,
that she sends you to prison hither?
Hamlet
Then doomsday must be near. But your news isn't true.
Let me be more specific: what have you,
my good friends, done to deserve Fortune
sending you to prison here?
Guildenstern
Prison, my lord!
Guildenstern
Prison, my lord?
Hamlet
Denmark's a prison.
Hamlet
Denmark's a prison.
Rosencrantz
Then is the world one.
Rosencrantz
Then so is the world.
Hamlet
A goodly one; in which there are many confines,
wards and dungeons, Denmark being one o' the worst.
Hamlet
A large one — with plenty of cells,
wings and dungeons, Denmark being one of the worst.
Rosencrantz
We think not so, my lord.
Rosencrantz
We don't think so, my lord.
Hamlet
Why, then, 'tis none to you; for there is nothing
either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me
it is a prison.
Hamlet
Then it isn't one for you — because there's nothing
either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. To me
it's a prison.
Rosencrantz
Why then, your ambition makes it one; 'tis too
narrow for your mind.
Rosencrantz
Then it's your ambition that makes it one. It's too
cramped for your mind.
Hamlet
O God, I could be bounded in a nut shell and count
myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I
have bad dreams.
Hamlet
God, I could be shut in a nutshell and count
myself king of infinite space — if it weren't that I
have bad dreams.
Guildenstern
Which dreams indeed are ambition, for the very
substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.
Guildenstern
And those dreams are exactly ambition — the very
substance of ambition is just the shadow of a dream.
Hamlet
A dream itself is but a shadow.
Hamlet
A dream itself is only a shadow.
Rosencrantz
Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a
quality that it is but a shadow's shadow.
Rosencrantz
True — and I consider ambition so airy and weightless
that it's only a shadow's shadow.
Hamlet
Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and
outstretched heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we
to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason.
Hamlet
Then beggars are the only solid bodies, and our kings and
stretched-out heroes are the beggars' shadows. Shall we
go to the court? Honestly, I can't reason anymore.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
We'll wait upon you.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
We'll attend you.
Hamlet
No such matter: I will not sort you with the rest
of my servants, for, to speak to you like an honest
man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, in the
beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore?
Hamlet
Certainly not. I won't lump you in with the rest
of my servants — because, to speak to you as an honest
man, I'm dreadfully badly served. But in the
plain way of friendship — what are you doing at Elsinore?
Rosencrantz
To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.
Rosencrantz
To visit you, my lord. No other reason.
Hamlet
Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I
thank you: and sure, dear friends, my thanks are
too dear a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it
your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come,
deal justly with me: come, come; nay, speak.
Hamlet
Beggar that I am, I'm poor even in thanks — but I
thank you. And honestly, dear friends, my thanks aren't
worth a halfpenny. — Weren't you sent for? Is this
your own idea? Is it a free visit? Come on,
be straight with me. Come on. Speak.
Guildenstern
What should we say, my lord?
Guildenstern
What should we say, my lord?
Hamlet
Why, any thing, but to the purpose. You were sent
for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks
which your modesties have not craft enough to colour:
I know the good king and queen have sent for you.
Hamlet
Anything — as long as it's the point. You were sent
for. There's a kind of confession in your faces
that you aren't skilled enough to disguise.
I know the good king and queen sent for you.
Rosencrantz
To what end, my lord?
Rosencrantz
For what purpose, my lord?
Hamlet
That you must teach me. But let me conjure you, by
the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of
our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved
love, and by what more dear a better proposer could
charge you withal, be even and direct with me,
whether you were sent for, or no?
Hamlet
That's what you must tell me. But let me appeal to you: by
the bonds of our friendship, by the harmony of
our shared youth, by the obligation of our lasting
affection, and by anything dearer a better speaker could
hold you to — be straight and direct with me:
were you sent for, or not?
Rosencrantz
What say you?
Rosencrantz
(quietly, to Guildenstern) What do you say?
Hamlet
Nay, then, I have an eye of you.—If you
love me, hold not off.
Hamlet
(to himself) Right — now I've got my eye on you. — If you
care about me, don't hold back.
Guildenstern
My lord, we were sent for.
Guildenstern
My lord, we were sent for.
Hamlet
I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation
prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king
and queen moult no feather. I have of late—but
wherefore I know not—lost all my mirth, forgone all
custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily
with my disposition that this goodly frame, the
earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most
excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted
with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to
me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how
express and admirable! in action how like an angel!
in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the
world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me,
what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not
me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling
you seem to say so.
Hamlet
I'll tell you why — so that my guessing first
spares you having to confess, and your promise of secrecy to the king
and queen stays intact. Lately — and I don't know
why — I've lost all my good humour, given up all
my usual activities. And it weighs so heavily
on my mood that this magnificent structure, the
earth, seems to me a barren rock. This most
excellent canopy, the air — look — this splendid
overhanging sky, this majestic ceiling inlaid
with golden fire — it seems nothing else to
me but a foul and poisonous gathering of fumes.
What a piece of work a human being is! How noble in reason,
how infinite in capability, how precise and admirable
in shape and movement! In action like an angel,
in understanding like a god! The beauty of the
world, the model for all animals! And yet, to me,
what is this refined essence of dust? Man doesn't delight
me — no, nor woman either, though your smile
suggests you think otherwise.
Rosencrantz
My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.
Rosencrantz
My lord, nothing of the kind was in my mind.
Hamlet
Why did you laugh then, when I said 'man delights not me'?
Hamlet
Then why did you laugh when I said 'man doesn't delight me'?
Rosencrantz
To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what
lenten entertainment the players shall receive from
you: we coted them on the way; and hither are they
coming, to offer you service.
Rosencrantz
I was thinking, my lord — if men don't delight you, what a
meagre welcome the actors are going to get from
you. We overtook them on the road, and they're
coming here to offer you their services.
Hamlet
He that plays the king shall be welcome; his majesty
shall have tribute of me; the adventurous knight
shall use his foil and target; the lover shall not
sigh gratis; the humourous man shall end his part
in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose
lungs are tickled o' the sere; and the lady shall
say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt
for't. What players are they?
Hamlet
Whoever plays the king will be welcome — his majesty
will get tribute from me. The adventurous knight
can use his sword and shield. The lover won't
sigh for free. The eccentric will finish his part
in peace. The clown will make laugh those whose
lungs are on a hair-trigger. And the lady will
speak her mind freely, or the blank verse will limp
for it. — Which company is it?
Rosencrantz
Even those you were wont to take delight in, the
tragedians of the city.
Rosencrantz
The very ones you used to enjoy — the
tragic actors from the city.
Hamlet
How chances it they travel? their residence, both
in reputation and profit, was better both ways.
Hamlet
How is it they're touring? Staying put was better
for them, both in reputation and profit.
Rosencrantz
I think their inhibition comes by the means of the
late innovation.
Rosencrantz
I think they were banned because of the
recent new fashion.
Hamlet
Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was
in the city? are they so followed?
Hamlet
Are they as highly regarded as when I was
in the city? Do they still draw crowds?
Rosencrantz
No, indeed, are they not.
Rosencrantz
No, indeed they don't.
Hamlet
How comes it? do they grow rusty?
Hamlet
How so? Are they getting rusty?
Rosencrantz
Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace: but
there is, sir, an aery of children, little eyases,
that cry out on the top of question, and are most
tyrannically clapped for't: these are now the
fashion, and so berattle the common stages—so they
call them—that many wearing rapiers are afraid of
goose-quills and dare scarce come thither.
Rosencrantz
No, they're working as hard as ever. But
there's a nestful of children, little hawks,
who screech out their lines at the top of their voices and get
outrageously applauded for it. They're the
fashion now, and they abuse the ordinary theatres — as they
call them — so badly that plenty of sword-wearing gentlemen are afraid of
writers' pens and hardly dare go there.
Hamlet
What, are they children? who maintains 'em? how are
they escoted? Will they pursue the quality no
longer than they can sing? will they not say
afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common
players—as it is most like, if their means are no
better—their writers do them wrong, to make them
exclaim against their own succession?
Hamlet
What, they're children? Who supports them? How are
they paid? Will they only stay in the profession
as long as their voices last? Won't they say
later on, if they grow up to be ordinary
actors — which is likely enough, if they've no
better income — that their writers wronged them, making them
attack the very career they'd end up in?
Rosencrantz
'Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and
the nation holds it no sin to tarre them to
controversy: there was, for a while, no money bid
for argument, unless the poet and the player went to
cuffs in the question.
Rosencrantz
Honestly, there's been a great fuss on both sides, and
the country thinks nothing of egging them on to
argue. For a while nobody would fund
a play unless the writer and the actor came to
blows over the issue.
Hamlet
Is't possible?
Hamlet
Is that possible?
Guildenstern
O, there has been much throwing about of brains.
Guildenstern
Oh, there's been a great deal of brain-hurling.
Hamlet
Do the boys carry it away?
Hamlet
Are the boys winning?
Rosencrantz
Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load too.
Rosencrantz
They are, my lord — Hercules and his globe along with them. (A dig at the Globe theatre, whose sign was Hercules carrying the world.)
Hamlet
It is not very strange; for mine uncle is king of
Denmark, and those that would make mows at him while
my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an
hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little.
'Sblood, there is something in this more than
natural, if philosophy could find it out.
Hamlet
It isn't so strange. My uncle is king of
Denmark, and people who pulled faces at him while
my father was alive now pay twenty, forty, fifty, a
hundred ducats each for a miniature portrait of him.
God's blood, there's something in this beyond
nature, if philosophy could work it out.
A flourish of trumpets within.
Guildenstern
There are the players.
Guildenstern
There are the actors.
Hamlet
Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands,
come then: the appurtenance of welcome is fashion
and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb,
lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you,
must show fairly outward, should more appear like
entertainment than yours. You are welcome: but my
uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived.
Hamlet
Gentlemen, welcome to Elsinore. Your hands,
come on. The proper accessory of welcome is style
and ceremony. Let me greet you in this manner,
so that my reception of the actors — which, I warn you,
must look impressive — doesn't look more like
hospitality than yours did. You're welcome. But my
uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived.
Guildenstern
In what, my dear lord?
Guildenstern
In what, my dear lord?
Hamlet
I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is
southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.
Hamlet
I'm only mad north-north-west. When the wind's from the
south I can tell a hawk from a handsaw. (Translation: I'm mad only when it suits me, and you should worry about that.)
Enter Polonius.
Polonius
Well be with you, gentlemen!
Polonius
Good health to you, gentlemen!
Hamlet
Hark you, Guildenstern; and you too: at each ear a
hearer: that great baby you see there is not yet
out of his swaddling-clouts.
Hamlet
Listen, Guildenstern — and you too, one at each ear:
that great baby over there isn't yet
out of his nappies.
Rosencrantz
Happily he's the second time come to them; for they
say an old man is twice a child.
Rosencrantz
Perhaps he's back in them for the second time — they
say an old man is a child twice over.
Hamlet
I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players;
mark it. You say right, sir: o' Monday morning;
'twas so indeed.
Hamlet
I predict he's come to tell me about the actors.
Watch. — You're quite right, sir: Monday morning;
that's exactly how it was. (He starts a fake conversation so Polonius can't tell if he's been overheard.)
Polonius
My lord, I have news to tell you.
Polonius
My lord, I have news for you.
Hamlet
My lord, I have news to tell you.
When Roscius was an actor in Rome,—
Hamlet
My lord, I have news for you.
When Roscius was an actor in Rome—
Polonius
The actors are come hither, my lord.
Polonius
The actors have arrived, my lord.
Hamlet
Buz, buz!
Hamlet
Old news! Old news!
Polonius
Upon mine honour,—
Polonius
On my honour—
Hamlet
Then came each actor on his ass,—
Hamlet
'Then came each actor on his donkey—'
Polonius
The best actors in the world, either for tragedy,
comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical,
historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-
comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or
poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor
Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the
liberty, these are the only men.
Polonius
The best actors in the world, whether for tragedy,
comedy, history, pastoral, comical-pastoral,
historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-
comical-historical-pastoral, plays that observe the unities, or
ones that don't. Seneca isn't too heavy for them, nor
Plautus too light. For scripted work and for
improvising, they're the only men.
Hamlet
O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou!
Hamlet
Oh Jephthah, judge of Israel — what a treasure you had!
Polonius
What a treasure had he, my lord?
Polonius
What treasure did he have, my lord?
Hamlet
Why,
'One fair daughter and no more,
The which he loved passing well.'
Hamlet
Why —
'One lovely daughter and no more,
whom he loved exceedingly well.' (Jephthah sacrificed his daughter. Hamlet is telling Polonius exactly what he thinks of him.)
Polonius
Still on my daughter.
Polonius
(to himself) Still on about my daughter.
Hamlet
Am I not i' the right, old Jephthah?
Hamlet
Am I not right, old Jephthah?
Polonius
If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter
that I love passing well.
Polonius
If you're calling me Jephthah, my lord, I do have a daughter
I love exceedingly well.
Hamlet
Nay, that follows not.
Hamlet
No — that isn't what follows.
Polonius
What follows, then, my lord?
Polonius
What follows, then, my lord?
Hamlet
Why,
'As by lot, God wot,'
and then, you know,
'It came to pass, as most like it was,'—
the first row of the pious chanson will show you
more; for look, where my abridgement comes.
Hamlet
Why —
'As by lot, God knows,'
and then, you know,
'it came to pass, as it most likely was' —
the first verse of the holy ballad will tell you
more. But look — here comes my interruption.
Enter four or five Players.
Hamlet
You are welcome, masters; welcome, all. I am glad
to see thee well. Welcome, good friends. O, my old
friend! thy face is valenced since I saw thee last:
comest thou to beard me in Denmark? What, my young
lady and mistress! By'r lady, your ladyship is
nearer to heaven than when I saw you last, by the
altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like
apiece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the
ring. Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en
to't like French falconers, fly at any thing we see:
we'll have a speech straight: come, give us a taste
of your quality; come, a passionate speech.
Hamlet
You're welcome, gentlemen — welcome, all of you. I'm glad
to see you well. Welcome, good friends. Oh — my old
friend! Your face is fringed with beard since I saw you last.
Have you come to out-beard me in Denmark? And my young
lady and mistress! Good heavens, your ladyship is
nearer heaven than when I last saw you, by the
height of a platform shoe. Pray God your voice hasn't
cracked like a worn-out gold coin. (The boy playing women's parts is growing up.)
Gentlemen, you're all welcome. We'll go
at it like French falconers and fly at whatever we see.
Let's have a speech right away. Come — give us a sample
of your skill. A passionate speech.
First Player
What speech, my lord?
First Player
Which speech, my lord?
Hamlet
I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was
never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the
play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas
caviare to the general: but it was—as I received
it, and others, whose judgments in such matters
cried in the top of mine—an excellent play, well
digested in the scenes, set down with as much
modesty as cunning. One speech in it I
chiefly loved: 'twas Aeneas' tale to Dido; and
thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of
Priam's slaughter: if it live in your memory, begin
at this line: let me see, let me see—
'The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast,'—
it is not so:—it begins with Pyrrhus:—
'The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms,
Black as his purpose, did the night resemble
When he lay couched in the ominous horse,
Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd
With heraldry more dismal; head to foot
Now is he total gules; horridly trick'd
With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,
Baked and impasted with the parching streets,
That lend a tyrannous and damned light
To their lord's murder: roasted in wrath and fire,
And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore,
With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Old grandsire Priam seeks.'
So, proceed you.
Hamlet
I heard you deliver a speech once, but it was
never performed — or if it was, only once. The
play, I remember, didn't please the masses; it was
caviar to the crowd. But it was — as I judged
it, and others whose opinions on such matters
outranked mine — an excellent play, well
organised in its scenes, written with as much
restraint as skill. One speech in it I
especially loved: Aeneas's story to Dido, and
particularly the part where he describes
Priam's killing. If you still remember it, begin
at this line — let me see, let me see —
'The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian tiger' —
no, that's not it. It begins with Pyrrhus:
'The rugged Pyrrhus — he whose black armour,
dark as his intent, resembled the night
when he lay hidden in the ominous wooden horse —
has now smeared that dreadful black appearance
with a still grimmer colour. Head to foot
he is now entirely red, horribly decorated
with the blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,
baked and crusted on him by the burning streets
that give a cruel and damned light
to their king's murder. Roasted in rage and fire,
coated over with clotted gore,
with eyes like burning coals, the hellish Pyrrhus
hunts for old grandfather Priam.'
Now you carry on.
Polonius
'Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and
good discretion.
Polonius
By God, my lord, well spoken — good delivery and
good judgment.
First Player
'Anon he finds him
Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword,
Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
Repugnant to command: unequal match'd,
Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide;
But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,
Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash
Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear: for, lo! his sword,
Which was declining on the milky head
Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick:
So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood,
And like a neutral to his will and matter,
Did nothing.
But, as we often see, against some storm,
A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,
The bold winds speechless and the orb below
As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder
Doth rend the region, so, after Pyrrhus' pause,
Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work;
And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
On Mars's armour forged for proof eterne
With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
Now falls on Priam.
Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods,
In general synod 'take away her power;
Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,
As low as to the fiends!'
First Player
'Soon he finds him
striking short at the Greeks. His ancient sword,
refusing to obey his arm, lies where it falls,
defying command. Unequally matched,
Pyrrhus charges at Priam, swings wide in his fury —
but the mere draught of his deadly blade
topples the feeble old man. Then lifeless Troy,
seeming to feel the blow, with its burning towers
collapses to its foundations, and with a hideous crash
captures Pyrrhus's ear. Look — his sword,
which was falling toward the white head
of venerable Priam, seemed to stick in mid-air.
So Pyrrhus stood like a tyrant in a painting,
suspended between his intention and his act,
and did nothing. (Hamlet has asked for a speech about a man who freezes with his sword raised. He has no idea he's describing himself.)
But as we often see before a storm,
a silence in the sky, the clouds standing still,
the bold winds speechless and the earth below
as hushed as death — and then the dreadful thunder
splits the air: so, after Pyrrhus's pause,
awakened vengeance sets him to work again.
And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
on Mars's armour, forged to last forever,
with less pity than Pyrrhus's bleeding sword
now falls on Priam.
Out, out, you whore Fortune! All you gods,
in full council, strip away her power!
Break every spoke and rim from her wheel
and roll the round hub down heaven's hill
all the way down to the devils!'
Polonius
This is too long.
Polonius
This is too long.
Hamlet
It shall to the barber's, with your beard. Prithee,
say on: he's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he
sleeps: say on: come to Hecuba.
Hamlet
It can go to the barber's along with your beard. Please,
carry on. He wants a dance or a dirty story, or he
falls asleep. Go on — get to Hecuba.
First Player
'But who, O, who had seen the mobled queen—'
First Player
'But who — oh, who — had seen the muffled queen—'
Hamlet
'The mobled queen?'
Hamlet
'The muffled queen'?
Polonius
That's good; 'mobled queen' is good.
Polonius
That's good. 'Muffled queen' is good.
First Player
'Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames
With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head
Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe,
About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins,
A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up;
Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd,
'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have pronounced:
But if the gods themselves did see her then
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs,
The instant burst of clamour that she made,
Unless things mortal move them not at all,
Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,
And passion in the gods.'
First Player
'Running barefoot up and down, threatening the flames
with blinding tears; a rag on that head
where the crown so recently sat, and for a robe,
wrapped round her thin, worn-out body,
a blanket snatched up in panic.
Anyone seeing this, with a tongue dipped in poison,
would have declared treason against Fortune's rule.
But if the gods themselves had seen her then,
when she watched Pyrrhus making spiteful sport
of hacking her husband's limbs apart,
the sudden scream she gave
would — unless human suffering means nothing to them —
have wet the burning eyes of heaven
and stirred grief in the gods themselves.'
Polonius
Look, whether he has not turned his colour and has
tears in's eyes. Pray you, no more.
Polonius
Look — he's changed colour and has
tears in his eyes. Please, no more.
Hamlet
'Tis well: I'll have thee speak out the rest soon.
Good my lord, will you see the players well
bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for
they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the
time: after your death you were better have a bad
epitaph than their ill report while you live.
Hamlet
That's fine. I'll have you finish the rest soon.
My good lord, will you see the actors are well
looked after? Listen — treat them well, because
they're the summary and living record of the
times. After your death you'd be better off with a bad
gravestone than a bad review from them while you're alive.
Polonius
My lord, I will use them according to their desert.
Polonius
My lord, I'll treat them as they deserve.
Hamlet
God's bodykins, man, much better: use every man
after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping?
Use them after your own honour and dignity: the less
they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty.
Take them in.
Hamlet
Good God, man — much better than that! Treat every man
as he deserves and who would escape a whipping?
Treat them according to your own honour and dignity. The less
they deserve, the more credit in your generosity.
Take them in.
Polonius
Come, sirs.
Polonius
Come along, gentlemen.
Hamlet
Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play to-morrow.
Hamlet
Follow him, friends. We'll hear a play tomorrow.
Exit Polonius with all the Players but the First.
Hamlet
Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you play the
Murder of Gonzago?
Hamlet
Listen, old friend — can you perform
The Murder of Gonzago?
First Player
Ay, my lord.
First Player
Yes, my lord.
Hamlet
We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need,
study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which
I would set down and insert in't, could you not?
Hamlet
We'll have it tomorrow night. Could you, if needed,
learn a speech of some twelve or sixteen lines that
I'd write and insert into it?
First Player
Ay, my lord.
First Player
Yes, my lord.
Hamlet
Very well. Follow that lord; and look you mock him not.
Hamlet
Very good. Follow that gentleman — and don't mock him.
Exit First Player.
Hamlet
My good friends, I'll leave you till night: you are
welcome to Elsinore.
Hamlet
My good friends, I'll leave you until tonight. You're
welcome to Elsinore.
Rosencrantz
Good my lord!
Rosencrantz
Good day, my lord.
Hamlet
Ay, so, God be wi' ye;
Hamlet
Yes — God be with you.
Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
Hamlet
Now I am alone.
O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
Is it not monstrous that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit
That from her working all his visage wann'd,
Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing!
For Hecuba!
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weep for her? What would he do,
Had he the motive and the cue for passion
That I have? He would drown the stage with tears
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech,
Make mad the guilty and appal the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed
The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I,
A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,
Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,
And can say nothing; no, not for a king,
Upon whose property and most dear life
A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat,
As deep as to the lungs? who does me this?
Ha!
'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be
But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall
To make oppression bitter, or ere this
I should have fatted all the region kites
With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain!
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
O, vengeance!
Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,
That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,
Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
And fall a-cursing, like a very drab,
A scullion!
Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! I have heard
That guilty creatures sitting at a play
Have by the very cunning of the scene
Been struck so to the soul that presently
They have proclaim'd their malefactions;
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players
Play something like the murder of my father
Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;
I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench,
I know my course. The spirit that I have seen
May be the devil: and the devil hath power
To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps
Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
As he is very potent with such spirits,
Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds
More relative than this: the play 's the thing
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Hamlet
Now I'm alone.
What a worthless, low-born slave I am!
Isn't it monstrous that this actor here,
working in pure fiction, in an imagined passion,
could bend his whole soul to his own invention
so completely that his face went pale from it,
tears in his eyes, anguish in his expression,
a cracking voice, his entire body matching
the thing he'd imagined? And all for nothing!
For Hecuba!
What is Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
that he should weep for her? What would he do
if he had the motive and the cue for grief
that I have? He'd flood the stage with tears
and split the audience's ears with terrible words,
drive the guilty mad and appal the innocent,
bewilder the ignorant, and utterly astound
the very powers of sight and hearing. And yet I —
a dull, muddy-spirited wretch — mope about
like a daydreamer, unquickened by my own cause,
and can say nothing. No — not for a king
whose property and precious life
were destroyed by a damned crime. Am I a coward?
Who calls me a villain? Cracks my skull?
Pulls off my beard and blows it in my face?
Tweaks my nose? Calls me a liar to my face,
right down to my lungs? Who does this to me?
Ha!
God's wounds — I'd take it, because it must be
that I'm gutless and lack the bile
to make injury taste bitter. Otherwise by now
I'd have fattened every vulture in the district
with this villain's guts. Bloody, filthy villain!
Pitiless, treacherous, lecherous, unnatural villain!
Oh, vengeance!
God, what an idiot I am. How very brave of me,
that I, the son of a murdered father,
urged to revenge by heaven and hell,
should unload my heart in words like a prostitute
and fall to swearing like a common slut,
a kitchen maid!
Disgusting. Get to work, brain! — I've heard
that guilty people sitting at a play
have been so struck to the soul
by the sheer skill of the performance that they've
immediately confessed their crimes.
Murder, though it has no tongue, will speak
through miraculous means. I'll have these actors
perform something like my father's murder
in front of my uncle. I'll watch his face,
I'll probe him to the quick. If he so much as flinches,
I'll know what to do. The ghost I saw
might be the devil — and the devil has the power
to take on an attractive shape. Yes, and perhaps,
given my weakness and my depression —
and he's very powerful over such moods —
he's tricking me in order to damn me. I'll get evidence
more solid than this. The play's the thing
in which I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Exit. — End of Scene 2.