Hamlet Act 4 Scene 4
A plain in Denmark.
The Original
Plain Modern English
Enter Fortinbras, and a Captain, with an army marching across the stage.
Fortinbras
Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king;
Tell him that, by his licence, Fortinbras
Craves the conveyance of a promised march
Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous.
If that his majesty would aught with us,
We shall express our duty in his eye;
And let him know so.
Fortinbras
Captain, go and give my greetings to the Danish king.
Tell him that, with his permission, Fortinbras
requests the safe passage he was promised
across his kingdom. You know the meeting place.
If His Majesty wants anything from me,
I'll pay my respects to him in person.
Let him know that.
Captain
I will do't, my lord.
Captain
I'll do it, my lord.
Fortinbras
Go softly on.
Fortinbras
March on slowly.
Exeunt Fortinbras and army. Enter Hamlet, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and others.
Hamlet
Good sir, whose powers are these?
Hamlet
Excuse me, sir — whose army is this?
Captain
They are of Norway, sir.
Captain
They're Norwegian, sir.
Hamlet
How purposed, sir, I pray you?
Hamlet
And bound where, may I ask?
Captain
Against some part of Poland.
Captain
Against part of Poland.
Hamlet
Who commands them, sir?
Hamlet
Who commands them, sir?
Captain
The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras.
Captain
Old Norway's nephew, Fortinbras.
Hamlet
Goes it against the main of Poland, sir,
Or for some frontier?
Hamlet
Is it against the heart of Poland, sir,
or just some border territory?
Captain
Truly to speak, and with no addition,
We go to gain a little patch of ground
That hath in it no profit but the name.
To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it;
Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole
A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.
Captain
To be honest, without exaggerating,
we're going to win a little patch of land
that's worth nothing except the name of it.
I wouldn't rent it for five ducats — five —
and it wouldn't bring Norway or Poland
any more than that if it were sold outright.
Hamlet
Why, then the Polack never will defend it.
Hamlet
Then the Poles will never bother defending it.
Captain
Yes, it is already garrison'd.
Captain
They already have a garrison there.
Hamlet
Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats
Will not debate the question of this straw:
This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace,
That inward breaks, and shows no cause without
Why the man dies. I humbly thank you, sir.
Hamlet
Two thousand lives and twenty thousand ducats
won't settle the argument over this straw.
This is the abscess that grows from too much wealth and peace:
it bursts inwardly and shows no outward reason
why the man is dying. — I humbly thank you, sir.
Captain
God be wi' you, sir.
Captain
God be with you, sir.
Exit Captain.
Rosencrantz
Wilt please you go, my lord?
Rosencrantz
Shall we go, my lord?
Hamlet
I'll be with you straight. Go a little before.
Hamlet
I'll be right behind you. Go on ahead.
Exeunt all but Hamlet.
Hamlet
How all occasions do inform against me,
And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
If his chief good and market of his time
Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
Sure, he that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and god-like reason
To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on the event,—
A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom
And ever three parts coward,—I do not know
Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;'
Sith I have cause and will and strength and means
To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me:
Witness this army of such mass and charge
Led by a delicate and tender prince,
Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd
Makes mouths at the invisible event,
Exposing what is mortal and unsure
To all that fortune, death and danger dare,
Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great
Is not to stir without great argument,
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
When honour's at the stake. How stand I then,
That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
Excitements of my reason and my blood,
And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see
The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
That, for a fantasy and trick of fame,
Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
Which is not tomb enough and continent
To hide the slain? O, from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!
Hamlet
How everything that happens accuses me
and spurs on my sluggish revenge. What is a man,
if the best use he makes of his time
is sleeping and eating? An animal, nothing more.
Surely the one who made us with such wide-ranging reason,
able to look backward and forward, didn't give us
that capacity and godlike intelligence
to go mouldy in us, unused. Now, whether it's
animal forgetfulness or some cowardly hesitation
from thinking too exactly about the outcome —
a habit which, cut in four, is one part wisdom
and three parts cowardice — I don't know
why I'm still alive saying 'this needs doing,'
when I have the reason, the will, the strength and the means
to do it. Examples as huge as the earth urge me on.
Look at this army, so vast and expensive,
led by a refined and gentle prince
whose spirit, swollen with godlike ambition,
sneers at the unknowable outcome,
risking everything mortal and uncertain
against whatever luck, death and danger can throw —
and all for an eggshell. To be truly great
isn't to fight only over great causes,
but to fight greatly over a straw
when honour is at stake. So where do I stand,
with a murdered father and a disgraced mother,
both of which should fire my reason and my blood,
and let it all lie sleeping? While to my shame I watch
twenty thousand men about to die
who, for an illusion and a trick of reputation,
go to their graves as if to bed, fighting for a patch of ground
too small to hold the armies fighting over it,
not even big enough to be a grave
for the dead. — Oh, from this moment on,
let my thoughts be bloody, or be worth nothing at all!
Exit.