Hamlet Act 3 Scene 2
A hall in the castle.
The Original
Plain Modern English
Enter Hamlet and Players.
Hamlet
Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you,
trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, as many
of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke
my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your
hand, thus, but use all gently; for in the very torrent,
tempest, and, as I may say, the whirlwind of your
passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that
may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul to
hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion
to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the
groundlings, who for the most part are capable of
nothing but inexplicable dumbshows and noise: I would
have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it
out-Herods Herod: pray you, avoid it.
Hamlet
Deliver the speech, please, the way I read it to you —
lightly, off the tongue. But if you bellow it, the way a lot
of actors do, I'd rather have the town crier speak
my lines. And don't saw the air about with your
hand, like this — keep it all restrained. Even in the flood,
the storm, the whirlwind of your
emotion, you have to find a self-control that
gives it smoothness. It offends me to the soul to
hear some loud, wig-wearing fellow tear a passion
to shreds, to actual rags, splitting the ears of the
cheap-seat crowd, who mostly can't appreciate
anything but incomprehensible mime and noise. I'd
have a man like that whipped for overplaying a ranting tyrant —
it out-Herods Herod. Please avoid it.
First Player
I warrant your honour.
First Player
You have my word, your lordship.
Hamlet
Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be
your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the
action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep
not the modesty of nature: for anything so overdone is
from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first
and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to
nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own
image, and the very age and body of the time his form
and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off,
though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the
judicious grieve; the censure of the which one must in
your allowance o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O,
there be players that have seen play, and heard others
praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that,
neither having the accent of Christians nor the gait of
Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and
bellowed that I have thought some of nature's
journeymen had made men and not made them well,
they imitated humanity so abominably.
Hamlet
Don't be too tame either. Let your own judgment be
your teacher. Match the gesture to the word and the word to the
gesture, with this one rule especially: never overstep
what's natural. Anything overdone defeats
the purpose of acting — whose aim, from the beginning
and still now, was and is to hold a mirror up to
nature: to show virtue its own face, contempt its own
reflection, and the whole age and character of the times
its exact shape and imprint. Overdo it, or fall short,
and though the ignorant may laugh, it can only make
the discerning wince — and one such person's opinion
should outweigh a whole theatre of the others.
There are actors I've seen perform, and heard others
praise highly — and, not to be blasphemous, they had
neither the speech of Christians nor the walk of
Christian, pagan, or human being. They strutted and
bellowed so badly I thought some of nature's
apprentices had made men and made them badly —
they imitated humanity so appallingly.
First Player
I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us, sir.
First Player
I hope we've cured ourselves of that reasonably well, sir.
Hamlet
O, reform it altogether. And let those that play your
clowns speak no more than is set down for them; for
there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on
some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too; though,
in the mean time, some necessary question of the play
be then to be considered: that's villanous, and shows a
most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go, make
you ready.
Hamlet
Cure it completely. And make sure the ones playing your
clowns say no more than what's written for them. Some of them
will laugh at their own jokes to get
a few empty-headed spectators laughing too — even when
some essential point of the play
needs attention at that moment. That's contemptible, and shows
pitiful vanity in the fool who does it. Go and get
ready.
Exeunt Players. Enter Polonius, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern.
Hamlet
How now, my lord! Will the King hear this piece of work?
Hamlet
Well, my lord — will the King watch this piece?
Polonius
And the Queen too, and that presently.
Polonius
The Queen as well, and right away.
Hamlet
Bid the players make haste.
Hamlet
Tell the actors to hurry.
Exit Polonius.
Hamlet
Will you two help to hasten them?
Hamlet
Will you two go and hurry them along?
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
We will, my lord.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
We will, my lord.
Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
Hamlet
What ho! Horatio!
Hamlet
Hello there! Horatio!
Enter Horatio.
Horatio
Here, sweet lord, at your service.
Horatio
Here, dear lord, at your service.
Hamlet
Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
As e'er my conversation coped withal.
Hamlet
Horatio, you're as decent a man
as I've ever dealt with.
Horatio
O, my dear lord–
Horatio
Oh, my dear lord—
Hamlet
Nay, do not think I flatter;
For what advancement may I hope from thee
That no revenue hast but thy good spirits,
To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered?
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice
And could of men distinguish, her election
Hath sealed thee for herself; for thou hast been
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing,
A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards
Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and blest are those
Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled,
That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger
To sound what stop she please. Give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee – Something too much of this –
There is a play tonight before the King;
One scene of it comes near the circumstance
Which I have told thee of my father's death:
I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot,
Even with the very comment of thy soul
Observe mine uncle: if his occulted guilt
Do not itself unkennel in one speech,
It is a damned ghost that we have seen,
And my imaginations are as foul
As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note;
For I mine eyes will rivet to his face,
And after we will both our judgments join
In censure of his seeming.
Hamlet
No, don't think I'm flattering you.
What advancement could I hope for from you,
who have no income but your good spirits
to feed and clothe you? Why flatter the poor?
No — let the sugary tongue lick at absurd wealth,
and let knees bend readily
where grovelling brings profit. Are you listening?
Ever since my soul was capable of choosing
and could tell men apart, her choice
has settled on you. Because you've been
a man who endures everything and is damaged by nothing,
a man who takes Fortune's blows and gifts
with equal thanks. Blessed are those
whose passion and judgment are so well balanced
that they aren't a flute for Fortune's fingers
to play whatever note she likes. Give me the man
who isn't a slave to his passions, and I'll wear him
in the core of my heart — yes, in my heart of hearts,
as I do you. — That's rather too much of that. —
There's a play tonight in front of the King.
One scene in it comes close to the circumstances
I've described to you about my father's death.
Please, when you see that part being performed,
with your whole soul's attention
watch my uncle. If his hidden guilt
doesn't flush itself out during one particular speech,
then the ghost we saw was a damned spirit
and my imagination is as filthy
as a blacksmith's forge. Watch him closely.
I'll rivet my own eyes to his face,
and afterwards we'll compare our judgments
and assess how he behaved.
Horatio
Well, my lord:
If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing,
And 'scape detecting, I will pay the theft.
Horatio
Very well, my lord.
If he gets away with anything while this play is on
without my noticing, I'll pay for the theft myself.
Hamlet
They are coming to the play; I must be idle:
Get you a place.
Hamlet
They're coming in for the play. I'd better act the fool.
Find yourself a seat.
Danish march. A flourish. Enter Claudius, Gertrude, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and others.
Claudius
How fares our cousin Hamlet?
Claudius
How is our nephew Hamlet?
Hamlet
Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish: I eat the air,
promise-crammed: you cannot feed capons so.
Hamlet
Excellent, truly — I'm on the chameleon's diet. I eat air,
stuffed with promises. You couldn't fatten a chicken that way. (A pun on 'air' and 'heir' — Claudius promised him the succession.)
Claudius
I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet; these words
are not mine.
Claudius
I can make nothing of that answer, Hamlet. Those words
aren't mine.
Hamlet
No, nor mine now.
My lord, you played once i' the university, you say?
Hamlet
No — nor mine, now that I've said them.
(to Polonius) My lord, you acted at university once, you said?
Polonius
That did I, my lord; and was accounted a good actor.
Polonius
I did, my lord, and was considered a good actor.
Hamlet
What did you enact?
Hamlet
What did you play?
Polonius
I did enact Julius Caesar: I was killed i' the Capitol;
Brutus killed me.
Polonius
I played Julius Caesar. I was killed in the Capitol.
Brutus killed me.
Hamlet
It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there.
Be the players ready?
Hamlet
It was a brutish role for him, killing such a prize calf there. (Puns on 'Brutus/brute' and 'Capitol/capital.' Also: Polonius is about to be stabbed for real.)
Are the actors ready?
Rosencrantz
Ay, my lord; they stay upon your patience.
Rosencrantz
Yes, my lord — they're waiting on your word.
Gertrude
Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.
Gertrude
Come here, dear Hamlet — sit by me.
Hamlet
No, good mother, here's metal more attractive.
Hamlet
No, mother — here's a more attractive magnet.
Polonius
O, ho! do you mark that?
Polonius
(to Claudius) Aha! Did you notice that?
Hamlet
Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
Hamlet
My lady, shall I lie in your lap?
Ophelia
No, my lord.
Ophelia
No, my lord.
Hamlet
I mean, my head upon your lap?
Hamlet
I mean, my head on your lap?
Ophelia
Ay, my lord.
Ophelia
Yes, my lord.
Hamlet
Do you think I meant country matters?
Hamlet
Did you think I meant something indecent? (The pun is on the first syllable of 'country,' and it is exactly as crude as it looks. He is doing this to her in front of the entire court.)
Ophelia
I think nothing, my lord.
Ophelia
I think nothing, my lord.
Hamlet
That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.
Hamlet
That's a fine thought to lie between a girl's legs.
Ophelia
What is, my lord?
Ophelia
What is, my lord?
Hamlet
Nothing.
Hamlet
Nothing.
Ophelia
You are merry, my lord.
Ophelia
You're in a cheerful mood, my lord.
Hamlet
Who, I?
Hamlet
Me?
Ophelia
Ay, my lord.
Ophelia
Yes, my lord.
Hamlet
O God, your only jig-maker. What should a man do but
be merry? For, look you, how cheerfully my mother
looks, and my father died within these two hours.
Hamlet
God, I'm the finest comedian going. What should a man do but
be cheerful? Look how cheerful my mother
looks — and my father died within the last two hours.
Ophelia
Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord.
Ophelia
No — it's four months, my lord.
Hamlet
So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a
suit of sables. O heavens! Die two months ago, and not
forgotten yet? Then there's hope a great man's memory
may outlive his life half a year: but, by'r lady, he must
build churches, then; or else shall he suffer not thinking
on, with the hobby-horse, whose epitaph is 'For, O, for,
O, the hobby-horse is forgot.'
Hamlet
That long? Then let the devil wear black; I'll have a
suit of expensive fur. Heavens — dead two months and not
forgotten yet? Then there's hope a great man's memory
might outlast him by six months. But he'd have to
build churches — otherwise he'll be forgotten
like the hobby-horse, whose epitaph is 'Oh, oh,
the hobby-horse is forgotten.'
Oboes play. The dumb-show begins: a King and Queen enter lovingly. She kneels and makes protestations to him. He lifts her up and rests his head on her neck, then lies down on a bank of flowers. Seeing him asleep, she leaves. A man enters, takes off the King's crown, kisses it, pours poison in the King's ears, and exits. The Queen returns, finds the King dead, and grieves violently. The poisoner returns with two or three others, seeming to mourn with her. The body is carried away. The poisoner courts the Queen with gifts; she seems reluctant at first, but in the end accepts his love. Exeunt.
Ophelia
What means this, my lord?
Ophelia
What does that mean, my lord?
Hamlet
Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief.
Hamlet
Why, that's sneaking villainy. It means trouble.
Ophelia
Belike this show imports the argument of the play.
Ophelia
Perhaps that mime gives away the plot of the play.
Enter Prologue.
Hamlet
We shall know by this fellow: the players cannot
keep counsel; they'll tell all.
Hamlet
We'll find out from this fellow. Actors can't
keep a secret — they tell everything.
Ophelia
Will he tell us what this show meant?
Ophelia
Will he tell us what that mime meant?
Hamlet
Ay, or any show that you'll show him: be not you
ashamed to show, he'll not shame to tell you what it
means.
Hamlet
Yes — or anything else you care to show him. Don't you
be ashamed to show it, and he won't be ashamed to tell you what it
means.
Ophelia
You are naught, you are naught: I'll mark the play.
Ophelia
You're being wicked, you're being wicked. I'll watch the play.
Prologue
For us, and for our tragedy,
Here stooping to your clemency,
We beg your hearing patiently.
Prologue
On behalf of us and our tragedy,
humbly begging your indulgence,
we ask you to listen patiently.
Exit.
Hamlet
Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?
Hamlet
Was that a prologue, or the inscription inside a ring?
Ophelia
'Tis brief, my lord.
Ophelia
It was brief, my lord.
Hamlet
As woman's love.
Hamlet
Like a woman's love.
Enter two Players, as King and Queen.
Player King
Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round
Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground,
And thirty dozen moons with borrowed sheen
About the world have times twelve thirties been,
Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands
Unite commutual in most sacred bands.
Player King
Thirty times now the sun's chariot has circled
the salt sea and the round earth,
and three hundred and sixty moons with borrowed light
have gone about the world,
since love joined our hearts and marriage joined our hands
together in the most sacred bonds.
Player Queen
So many journeys may the sun and moon
Make us again count o'er ere love be done!
But, woe is me, you are so sick of late,
So far from cheer and from your former state,
That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,
Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must:
For women's fear and love holds quantity;
In neither aught, or in extremity.
Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know;
And as my love is sized, my fear is so:
Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;
Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.
Player Queen
May the sun and moon make us count
as many journeys again before our love ends!
But sadly, you've been so ill lately,
so far from cheerful and from your old self,
that I'm worried about you. But though I worry,
it mustn't distress you at all, my lord.
A woman's fear and love are equal in measure:
either she has neither, or she has both to excess.
You know from experience how much I love you,
and my fear is as large as my love.
Where love is great, the smallest doubts become fears;
where little fears grow large, great love is growing too.
Player King
'Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too;
My operant powers their functions leave to do:
And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
Honoured, beloved; and haply one as kind
For husband shalt thou—
Player King
Truly, I must leave you, love — and soon.
My bodily powers are failing.
You'll live on in this beautiful world after me,
honoured and loved — and perhaps someone just as kind
will be your husband—
Player Queen
O, confound the rest!
Such love must needs be treason in my breast:
In second husband let me be accurst!
None wed the second but who killed the first.
Player Queen
Don't say another word!
Such a love would be treason in my heart.
Let me be cursed if I take a second husband!
Nobody marries a second husband unless she killed the first.
Hamlet
Wormwood, wormwood.
Hamlet
(aside) Bitter. Very bitter.
Player Queen
The instances that second marriage move
Are base respects of thrift, but none of love:
A second time I kill my husband dead,
When second husband kisses me in bed.
Player Queen
The motives that drive a second marriage
are cheap financial ones, never love.
I'd kill my husband a second time
when a second husband kissed me in bed.
Player King
I do believe you think what now you speak;
But what we do determine oft we break.
Purpose is but the slave to memory,
Of violent birth, but poor validity;
Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree;
But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be.
Most necessary 'tis that we forget
To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt:
What to ourselves in passion we propose,
The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
The violence of either grief or joy
Their own enactures with themselves destroy:
Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.
This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange
That even our loves should with our fortunes change;
For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,
Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
The great man down, you mark his favourite flies;
The poor advanced makes friends of enemies.
And hitherto doth love on fortune tend;
For who not needs shall never lack a friend,
And who in want a hollow friend doth try,
Directly seasons him his enemy.
But, orderly to end where I begun,
Our wills and fates do so contrary run
That our devices still are overthrown;
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own:
So think thou wilt no second husband wed;
But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.
Player King
I believe you mean what you're saying now.
But we often break the things we decide.
An intention is only memory's servant:
violently born, but not durable.
Right now it clings to the tree like unripe fruit,
but it drops off by itself once it softens.
It's completely natural that we forget
to pay the debts we owe ourselves.
What we promise ourselves in a moment of passion,
we stop intending once the passion fades.
Extreme grief and extreme joy
destroy their own resolutions along with themselves.
Where joy is loudest, grief mourns hardest;
grief turns joyful and joy turns sad on the slightest chance.
This world doesn't last forever, and it isn't strange
that even our loves change along with our fortunes.
It's still an unanswered question
whether love leads fortune or fortune leads love.
When a great man falls, watch his favourite abandon him;
when a poor man rises, his enemies become friends.
So far, love seems to follow money.
A man who needs nothing will never lack friends,
and a man in need who tests a false friend
turns him instantly into an enemy.
But to finish neatly where I started:
our wills and our fates run so opposite
that our plans are always overturned.
Our thoughts are ours; their outcomes never are.
So you may think you'll never take a second husband —
but that thought will die when your first husband does.
Player Queen
Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light!
Sport and repose lock from me day and night!
To desperation turn my trust and hope!
An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope!
Each opposite that blanks the face of joy
Meet what I would have well and it destroy!
Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife,
If, once a widow, ever I be wife!
Player Queen
Let the earth give me no food and heaven no light!
Let pleasure and rest be locked away from me day and night!
Let my trust and hope turn to despair!
Let a hermit's life in prison be all I get!
Let every misfortune that drains joy from a face
strike whatever I wish well and destroy it!
Let endless torment follow me in this life and the next
if, once widowed, I ever become a wife again!
Hamlet
If she should break it now!
Hamlet
(aside) And what if she breaks that vow!
Player King
'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile;
My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
The tedious day with sleep.
Player King
That's a solemn oath. Sweet, leave me here a while.
I'm growing drowsy, and I'd like to pass
the long day in sleep.
He sleeps.
Player Queen
Sleep rock thy brain,
And never come mischance between us twain!
Player Queen
May sleep soothe your mind,
and may no misfortune ever come between us.
Exit.
Hamlet
Madam, how like you this play?
Hamlet
Madam, how do you like this play?
Gertrude
The lady protests too much, methinks.
Gertrude
The lady swears rather too much, I think.
Hamlet
O, but she'll keep her word.
Hamlet
Oh, but she'll keep her promise.
Claudius
Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in 't?
Claudius
Do you know the plot? There's nothing offensive in it?
Hamlet
No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i' the
world.
Hamlet
No, no — they're only joking. Poisoning in jest. Nothing offensive
at all.
Claudius
What do you call the play?
Claudius
What's the play called?
Hamlet
The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play is
the image of a murder done in Vienna. Gonzago is the
duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see anon; 'tis
a knavish piece of work: but what o'that? Your majesty
and we that have free souls, it touches us not: let the
gallèd jade wince, our withers are unwrung.
Hamlet
The Mousetrap. Why that? Metaphorically. This play is
a picture of a murder committed in Vienna. Gonzago is the
duke's name, his wife's is Baptista. You'll see shortly. It's
a wicked piece of business — but so what? Your Majesty
and I have clear consciences; it doesn't concern us. Let the
saddle-sore horse flinch — our backs are fine.
Enter Lucianus.
Hamlet
This is one Lucianus, nephew to the King.
Hamlet
This is Lucianus, the King's nephew. (Not in the original story. Hamlet wrote this part. He is telling Claudius, in public, exactly what he intends.)
Ophelia
You are as good as a chorus, my lord.
Ophelia
You're as useful as a narrator, my lord.
Hamlet
I could interpret between you and your love, if I could
see the puppets dallying.
Hamlet
I could provide the dialogue between you and your lover, if I could
watch the puppets at it.
Ophelia
You are keen, my lord, you are keen.
Ophelia
You're sharp, my lord, very sharp.
Hamlet
It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.
Hamlet
It would cost you a groan to blunt my edge.
Ophelia
Still better, and worse.
Ophelia
Better wit, and worse behaviour.
Hamlet
So you must take your husbands. Begin, murderer;
pox, leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come:
'the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.'
Hamlet
That's how you must take husbands: for better, for worse. — Begin, murderer!
Damn it, stop making those faces and get on with it. Come:
'the croaking raven bellows for revenge.'
Lucianus
Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;
Confederate season, else no creature seeing;
Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thy natural magic and dire property,
On wholesome life usurp immediately.
Lucianus
Black thoughts, ready hands, the right drug, the perfect moment;
the hour conspiring with me, and no living creature watching.
You foul mixture, gathered from midnight weeds,
three times cursed and three times infected by Hecate —
let your natural magic and deadly power
seize this healthy life at once.
He pours the poison into the sleeper's ears.
Hamlet
He poisons him i' the garden for's estate. His name's Gonzago:
the story is extant, and writ in choice Italian: you shall see
anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife.
Hamlet
He poisons him in the garden to get his estate. His name is Gonzago.
The story still exists, written in fine Italian. You'll see
shortly how the murderer wins the love of Gonzago's wife.
Ophelia
The King rises.
Ophelia
The King is standing up.
Hamlet
What, frighted with false fire!
Hamlet
What — frightened by a blank shot?
Gertrude
How fares my lord?
Gertrude
How are you, my lord?
Polonius
Give o'er the play.
Polonius
Stop the play.
Claudius
Give me some light: away!
Claudius
Bring me a light — get out of the way!
All
Lights, lights, lights!
All
Lights, lights, lights!
Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horatio.
Hamlet
Why, let the stricken deer go weep,
The hart ungallèd play;
For some must watch, while some must sleep:
So runs the world away.
Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers — if the rest
of my fortunes turn Turk with me – with two Provincial
roses on my razèd shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of
players, sir?
Hamlet
Let the wounded deer go and weep,
let the unhurt stag play;
some men must stay awake while others sleep —
that's how the world runs.
Wouldn't that performance, sir — plus a hat full of feathers, if the rest
of my luck turns against me — and two rosettes
on my slashed shoes — get me a place in a company of
actors, sir?
Horatio
Half a share.
Horatio
A half share.
Hamlet
A whole one, I.
For thou dost know, O Damon dear,
This realm dismantled was
Of Jove himself, and now reigns here
A very, very – pajock.
Hamlet
A whole one, I say.
For you know well, dear friend,
this kingdom was stripped
of Jove himself, and now what reigns here
is a very, very... peacock.
Horatio
You might have rhymed.
Horatio
You could have made that rhyme. (The rhyme would have been 'ass.' Horatio noticed.)
Hamlet
O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand
pound. Didst perceive?
Hamlet
Good Horatio, I'd bet a thousand pounds on the ghost's word now.
Did you see?
Horatio
Very well, my lord.
Horatio
Very clearly, my lord.
Hamlet
Upon the talk of the poisoning?
Hamlet
At the mention of the poisoning?
Horatio
I did very well note him.
Horatio
I watched him very closely.
Hamlet
Ah, ha! Come, some music! Come, the recorders!
For if the King like not the comedy,
Why then, belike, he likes it not, perdy.
Come, some music!
Hamlet
Aha! Come, music! Bring the recorders!
Because if the King doesn't like the comedy,
then, presumably, he doesn't like it. By God.
Come — music!
Re-enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
Guildenstern
Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.
Guildenstern
My good lord, grant me a word with you.
Hamlet
Sir, a whole history.
Hamlet
Sir, a whole life story.
Guildenstern
The King, sir–
Guildenstern
The King, sir—
Hamlet
Ay, sir, what of him?
Hamlet
Yes, sir — what about him?
Guildenstern
Is in his retirement marvellous distempered.
Guildenstern
Has withdrawn, and is extraordinarily upset.
Hamlet
With drink, sir?
Hamlet
From drink, sir?
Guildenstern
No, my lord, rather with choler.
Guildenstern
No, my lord — with anger.
Hamlet
Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify
this to his doctor; for, for me to put him to his purgation
would perhaps plunge him into far more choler.
Hamlet
You'd show more sense by reporting this
to his doctor. If I started treating him,
I'd probably make him a great deal angrier.
Guildenstern
Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame and
start not so wildly from my affair.
Guildenstern
My good lord, put your speech into some order and
stop veering away from my business.
Hamlet
I am tame, sir: pronounce.
Hamlet
I'm calm, sir. Go on.
Guildenstern
The Queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit,
hath sent me to you.
Guildenstern
The Queen, your mother, in great distress of mind,
has sent me to you.
Hamlet
You are welcome.
Hamlet
You're welcome.
Guildenstern
Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right
breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholesome
answer, I will do your mother's commandment: if not,
your pardon and my return shall be the end of my
business.
Guildenstern
No, my lord — this politeness isn't the genuine
kind. If you'd be so good as to give me a sensible
answer, I'll carry out your mother's order. If not,
then excuse me and my going back will be the end of my
errand.
Hamlet
Sir, I cannot.
Hamlet
Sir, I can't.
Guildenstern
What, my lord?
Guildenstern
Can't what, my lord?
Hamlet
Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseased: but,
sir, such answer as I can make, you shall command;
or, rather, as you say, my mother: therefore no more,
but to the matter: my mother, you say –
Hamlet
Give you a sensible answer. My mind is diseased. But,
sir, whatever answer I can give is yours to command —
or rather my mother's, as you say. So no more of this;
to the point: my mother, you say—
Rosencrantz
Then thus she says; your behavior hath struck her into
amazement and admiration.
Rosencrantz
She says this: your behaviour has left her
astonished and bewildered.
Hamlet
O wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother! But is
there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration?
Impart.
Hamlet
What a wonderful son, to astonish his mother so! But is
there nothing following on from this maternal amazement?
Tell me.
Rosencrantz
She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you go to
bed.
Rosencrantz
She wants to speak with you in her private room before you go to
bed.
Hamlet
We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you
any further trade with us?
Hamlet
We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Do you have
any further business with us?
Rosencrantz
My lord, you once did love me.
Rosencrantz
My lord, you used to be fond of me.
Hamlet
So I do still, by these pickers and stealers.
Hamlet
And I still am — I swear it by these thieving hands of mine.
Rosencrantz
Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You
do, surely, bar the door upon your own liberty, if you
deny your griefs to your friend.
Rosencrantz
My good lord, what's the cause of your trouble? You're
certainly locking the door on your own freedom if you
hide your griefs from your friends.
Hamlet
Sir, I lack advancement.
Hamlet
Sir, I lack promotion.
Rosencrantz
How can that be, when you have the voice of the King himself
for your succession in Denmark?
Rosencrantz
How can that be, when you have the King's own word
that you'll succeed him in Denmark?
Hamlet
Ay, but sir, 'While the grass grows,' – the proverb is
something musty.
Hamlet
Yes, but sir — 'while the grass grows'... the proverb's
gone a bit stale. (The full proverb: while the grass grows, the horse starves.)
Re-enter Players with recorders.
Hamlet
O, the recorders! Let me see one. To withdraw with
you – why do you go about to recover the wind of me,
as if you would drive me into a toil?
Hamlet
Ah, the recorders! Let me see one. — A private word with
you: why do you keep circling downwind of me,
as if you were driving me into a net?
Guildenstern
O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too
unmannerly.
Guildenstern
My lord, if my sense of duty is too forward, it's because my
affection is too ill-mannered.
Hamlet
I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this
pipe?
Hamlet
I don't quite follow that. Will you play this
pipe?
Guildenstern
My lord, I cannot.
Guildenstern
My lord, I can't.
Hamlet
I pray you.
Hamlet
Please.
Guildenstern
Believe me, I cannot.
Guildenstern
Believe me, I can't.
Hamlet
I do beseech you.
Hamlet
I beg you.
Guildenstern
I know no touch of it, my lord.
Guildenstern
I don't know how to finger it at all, my lord.
Hamlet
'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with your
fingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth,
and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you,
these are the stops.
Hamlet
It's as easy as lying. Control these holes with your
fingers and thumb, blow into it with your mouth,
and it will speak the most eloquent music. Look —
these are the stops.
Guildenstern
But these cannot I command to any utterance of
harmony; I have not the skill.
Guildenstern
But I can't command these to produce any
harmony. I don't have the skill.
Hamlet
Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of
me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know
my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery;
you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of
my compass: and there is much music, excellent voice,
in this little organ; yet cannot you make it speak.
'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a
pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can
fret me, yet you cannot play upon me.
Hamlet
Well, look at that — what a worthless thing you make of
me! You'd play me like an instrument. You'd pretend to know
my stops. You'd pluck the heart out of my secret.
You'd sound me from my lowest note to the top of
my range. And there's a great deal of music, an excellent voice,
in this little instrument — and yet you can't make it speak.
God's blood, do you think I'm easier to play than a
recorder? Call me any instrument you like — you may be able to
irritate me, but you cannot play me. (The whole play in one image. And a pun: 'frets' are also the fingerboard of an instrument.)
Enter Polonius.
Hamlet
God bless you, sir!
Hamlet
God bless you, sir!
Polonius
My lord, the queen would speak with you, and presently.
Polonius
My lord, the Queen wants to speak with you, right away.
Hamlet
Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a
camel?
Hamlet
Do you see that cloud over there, almost shaped like a
camel?
Polonius
By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed.
Polonius
Good heavens, it is like a camel, indeed.
Hamlet
Methinks it is like a weasel.
Hamlet
I think it looks like a weasel.
Polonius
It is backed like a weasel.
Polonius
It's got the back of a weasel.
Hamlet
Or like a whale?
Hamlet
Or like a whale?
Polonius
Very like a whale.
Polonius
Very like a whale. (Three answers, three agreements. Hamlet has just proved Polonius will say anything.)
Hamlet
Then I will come to my mother by and by. They fool me
to the top of my bent. I will come by and by.
Hamlet
Then I'll come to my mother shortly. — They humour me
to the absolute limit. — I'll come shortly.
Polonius
I will say so.
Polonius
I'll tell her so.
Hamlet
'By and by' is easily said.
Hamlet
'Shortly' is an easy thing to say.
Exit Polonius.
Hamlet
Leave me, friends.
Hamlet
Leave me, friends.
Exeunt all but Hamlet.
Hamlet
'Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood,
And do such bitter business as the day
Would quake to look on. Soft! Now to my mother.
O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever
The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom:
Let me be cruel, not unnatural:
I will speak daggers to her, but use none;
My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites;
How in my words soever she be shent,
To give them seals never, my soul, consent!
Hamlet
This is the very witching hour of night,
when graveyards gape open and hell itself breathes
infection into the world. Right now I could drink hot blood
and do such bitter work as the daylight
would tremble to look at. — Steady. Now, to my mother.
Heart, don't lose your nature. Never let
Nero's soul enter this steady chest. (Nero had his mother murdered.)
Let me be cruel, but not monstrous.
I'll speak daggers to her, but use none.
In this, let my tongue and my soul be hypocrites:
however much my words shame her,
never, my soul, consent to act on them.
Exit. — End of Scene 2.