The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of. Denmark. ASCII text placed in the public domain by Moby Lexical Tools, SGML markup by Jon Bosak,. Book: Hamlet. The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark is a tragedy written by William Shakespeare between and The play vividly portrays both true and feigned madness—from overwhelming grief to seething rage—and explores themes of treachery, revenge, incest, and. Cambridge Shakespeare and Furness's edition of Hamlet. Thirdly, it gives explanatory notes. Here it is inevitable that my task should in the main be that of.
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versions of Hamlet, two of King Lear, Henry V, Romeo and Juliet, and others. Editors QUEEN GERTRUDE, widow of King Hamlet, now married to Claudius. [Enter Claudius, King of Denmark, Gertrude the Queen, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes and his sister Ophelia. He could have taken the story of Hamlet from several possible . Hamlet, the son of Gertrude and the dead king, to see the ghost, it speaks to him, declaring.
I am glad to see you well. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. Sir, my good friend- I'll change that name with you. And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?
My good lord! I am very glad to see you. A truant disposition, good my lord. I would not hear your enemy say so, Nor shall you do my ear that violence To make it truster of your own report Against yourself. I know you are no truant. But what is your affair in Elsinore? My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. I prithee do not mock me, fellow student.
I think it was to see my mother's wedding. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!
My father- methinks I see my father. O, where, my lord? In my mind's eye, Horatio. I saw him once. He was a goodly king. He was a man, take him for all in all.
I shall not look upon his like again. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight. My lord, the King your father. The King my father? Season your admiration for a while With an attent ear, till I may deliver Upon the witness of these gentlemen, This marvel to you.
For God's love let me hear! Two nights together had these gentlemen Marcellus and Bernardo on their watch In the dead vast and middle of the night Been thus encount'red. A figure like your father, Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe, Appears before them and with solemn march Goes slow and stately by them. Thrice he walk'd By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes, Within his truncheon's length; whilst they distill'd Almost to jelly with the act of fear, Stand dumb and speak not to him.
This to me In dreadful secrecy impart they did, And I with them the third night kept the watch; Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time, Form of the thing, each word made true and good, The apparition comes. I knew your father. But where was this? My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd. Did you not speak to it?
My lord, I did; But answer made it none.
Yet once methought It lifted up it head and did address Itself to motion, like as it would speak; But even then the morning cock crew loud, And at the sound it shrunk in haste away And vanish'd from our sight. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true; And we did think it writ down in our duty To let you know of it. Indeed, indeed, sirs. But this troubles me. Hold you the watch to-night? Arm'd, say you? From top to toe? Then saw you not his face? O, yes, my lord! He wore his beaver up. What, look'd he frowningly.
A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. Pale or red? Nay, very pale. And fix'd his eyes upon you? Most constantly. I would I had been there. It would have much amaz'd you.
Very like, very like. Stay'd it long? While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred. Not when I saw't. His beard was grizzled- no? It was, as I have seen it in his life, A sable silver'd. I will watch to-night. I warr'nt it will. If it assume my noble father's person, I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape And bid me hold my peace.
I pray you all, If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, Let it be tenable in your silence still; And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, Give it an understanding but no tongue. I will requite your loves. So, fare you well. Our duty to your honour. Your loves, as mine to you. All is not well. I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come! Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.
Enter Laertes and Ophelia. My necessaries are embark'd. And, sister, as the winds give benefit And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, But let me hear from you. Do you doubt that? For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood; A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent- sweet, not lasting; The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more.
No more but so? Think it no more. For nature crescent does not grow alone In thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes, The inward service of the mind and soul Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now, And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch The virtue of his will; but you must fear, His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own; For he himself is subject to his birth.
He may not, as unvalued persons do, Carve for himself, for on his choice depends The safety and health of this whole state, And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd Unto the voice and yielding of that body Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you, It fits your wisdom so far to believe it As he in his particular act and place May give his saying deed; which is no further Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain If with too credent ear you list his songs, Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open To his unmast'red importunity.
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister, And keep you in the rear of your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire. The chariest maid is prodigal enough If she unmask her beauty to the moon. Virtue itself scopes not calumnious strokes. The canker galls the infants of the spring Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd, And in the morn and liquid dew of youth Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Be wary then; best safety lies in fear. Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. I shall th' effect of this good lesson keep As watchman to my heart.
But, good my brother, Do not as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven, Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own rede. O, fear me not! But here my father comes. A double blessing is a double grace; Occasion smiles upon a second leave.
Yet here, Laertes? Aboard, aboard, for shame! The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, And you are stay'd for. There- my blessing with thee! And these few precepts in thy memory Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar: Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade.
Beware Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in, Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. This above all- to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. My blessing season this in thee!
Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. The time invites you. Go, your servants tend. Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well What I have said to you. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you? So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet. Marry, well bethought! What is between you? Give me up the truth.
He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders Of his affection to me. You speak like a green girl, Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.
Do you believe his tenders, as you call them? I do not know, my lord, what I should think, Polonius. Marry, I will teach you! Think yourself a baby That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay, Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly, Or not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, Running it thus you'll tender me a fool.
My lord, he hath importun'd me with love In honourable fashion.
Ay, fashion you may call it. Go to, go to! And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, With almost all the holy vows of heaven. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks! I do know, When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul Lends the tongue vows. These blazes, daughter, Giving more light than heat, extinct in both Even in their promise, as it is a-making, You must not take for fire.
From this time Be something scanter of your maiden presence. Set your entreatments at a higher rate Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet, Believe so much in him, that he is young, And with a larger tether may he walk Than may be given you. In few, Ophelia, Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers, Not of that dye which their investments show, But mere implorators of unholy suits, Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds, The better to beguile.
This is for all: I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth Have you so slander any moment leisure As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet. Look to't, I charge you. Come your ways. I shall obey, my lord. Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold. It is a nipping and an eager air. What hour now? I think it lacks of twelve.
No, it is struck. I heard it not. It then draws near the season Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. The King doth wake to-night and takes his rouse, Keeps wassail, and the swagg'ring upspring reels, And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge. Is it a custom? Ay, marry, is't; But to my mind, though I am native here And to the manner born, it is a custom More honour'd in the breach than the observance.
This heavy-headed revel east and west Makes us traduc'd and tax'd of other nations; They clip us drunkards and with swinish phrase Soil our addition; and indeed it takes From our achievements, though perform'd at height, The pith and marrow of our attribute.
The dram of e'il Doth all the noble substance often dout To his own scandal. Look, my lord, it comes! Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape That I will speak to thee.
I'll call thee Hamlet, King, father, royal Dane. O, answer me? Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death, Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws To cast thee up again.
What may this mean That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous, and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? What should we do? Ghost beckons Hamlet. It beckons you to go away with it, As if it some impartment did desire To you alone. Look with what courteous action It waves you to a more removed ground.
But do not go with it! No, by no means! It will not speak. Then will I follow it. Do not, my lord! Why, what should be the fear? I do not set my life at a pin's fee; And for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself? I'll follow it.
What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff That beetles o'er his base into the sea, And there assume some other, horrible form Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason And draw you into madness?
Think of it. The very place puts toys of desperation, Without more motive, into every brain That looks so many fadoms to the sea And hears it roar beneath. It waves me still. Go on. I'll follow thee. You shall not go, my lord.
Hold off your hands! Be rul'd. You shall not go. My fate cries out And makes each petty artire in this body As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. Unhand me, gentlemen. By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me! Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet. He waxes desperate with imagination. Let's follow. Have after.
To what issue will this come? Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. Heaven will direct it. Nay, let's follow him. Enter Ghost and Hamlet. Whither wilt thou lead me? I'll go no further.
Father's Ghost. Mark me. I will. My hour is almost come, When I to sulph'rous and tormenting flames Must render up myself. Alas, poor ghost! Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing To what I shall unfold. I am bound to hear. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.
I am thy father's spirit, Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confin'd to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.
But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list! If thou didst ever thy dear father love- Hamlet. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murther.
Murther most foul, as in the best it is; But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love, May sweep to my revenge. I find thee apt; And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, Wouldst thou not stir in this.
Now, Hamlet, hear. So the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forged process of my death Rankly abus'd. But know, thou noble youth, The serpent that did sting thy father's life Now wears his crown. O my prophetic soul! My uncle? Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts- O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power So to seduce! O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there, From me, whose love was of that dignity That it went hand in hand even with the vow I made to her in marriage, and to decline Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor To those of mine!
Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard, My custom always of the afternoon, Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, With juice of cursed hebona in a vial, And in the porches of my ears did pour The leperous distilment; whose effect Holds such an enmity with blood of man That swift as quicksilver it courses through The natural gates and alleys of the body, And with a sudden vigour it doth posset And curd, like eager droppings into milk, The thin and wholesome blood.
So did it mine; And a most instant tetter bark'd about, Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust All my smooth body. Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd; Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhous'led, disappointed, unanel'd, No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head.
O, horrible! If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not. Let not the royal bed of Denmark be A couch for luxury and damned incest. But, howsoever thou pursuest this act, Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive Against thy mother aught. Leave her to heaven, And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge To prick and sting her.
Fare thee well at once. The glowworm shows the matin to be near And gins to pale his uneffectual fire. Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me. O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else? Hold, hold, my heart! And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee? Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat In this distracted globe.
Yes, by heaven! O most pernicious woman! O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! My tables! Meet it is I set it down That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark. Now to my word: It is 'Adieu, adieu! Enter Horatio and Marcellus. Lord Hamlet! Heaven secure him! So be it! Illo, ho, ho, my lord! Hillo, ho, ho, boy! Come, bird, come. How is't, my noble lord? What news, my lord? O, wonderful! Good my lord, tell it. No, you will reveal it.
Not I, my lord, by heaven! Nor I, my lord. How say you then? Would heart of man once think it? There's neer a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he's an arrant knave.
There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave To tell us this. Why, right! You are in the right! And so, without more circumstance at all, I hold it fit that we shake hands and part; You, as your business and desires shall point you, For every man hath business and desire, Such as it is; and for my own poor part, Look you, I'll go pray. These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.
I am sorry they offend you, heartily; Yes, faith, heartily. There's no offence, my lord. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, And much offence too. Touching this vision here, It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you. And now, good friends, As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, Give me one poor request.
What is't, my lord? We will. Never make known what you have seen to-night. Nay, but swear't. In faith, My lord, not I. Nor I, my lord- in faith. Upon my sword. We have sworn, my lord, already. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.
Ghost cries under the stage. Aha boy, say'st thou so? Art thou there, truepenny? Come on! You hear this fellow in the cellarage. Consent to swear. Propose the oath, my lord. Never to speak of this that you have seen. Swear by my sword. Hic et ubique? Then we'll shift our ground. Come hither, gentlemen, And lay your hands again upon my sword. Never to speak of this that you have heard: Well said, old mole!
Canst work i' th' earth so fast? Once more remove, good friends. O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!
And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Here, as before, never, so help you mercy, How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself As I perchance hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on , That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, With arms encumb'red thus, or this head-shake, Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, As 'Well, well, we know,' or 'We could, an if we would,' Or 'If we list to speak,' or 'There be, an if they might,' Or such ambiguous giving out, to note That you know aught of me- this is not to do, So grace and mercy at your most need help you, Swear.
Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So, gentlemen, With all my love I do commend me to you; And what so poor a man as Hamlet is May do t' express his love and friending to you, God willing, shall not lack.
Let us go in together; And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.
The time is out of joint. O cursed spite That ever I was born to set it right! Nay, come, let's go together. Enter Polonius and Reynaldo. Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo.
I will, my lord. You shall do marvell's wisely, good Reynaldo, Before You visit him, to make inquire Of his behaviour. My lord, I did intend it. Marry, well said, very well said.
Look you, sir, Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; And how, and who, what means, and where they keep, What company, at what expense; and finding By this encompassment and drift of question That they do know my son, come you more nearer Than your particular demands will touch it. Ay, very well, my lord. As gaming, my lord. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling, Drabbing. You may go so far.
My lord, that would dishonour him. Faith, no, as you may season it in the charge. You must not put another scandal on him, That he is open to incontinency. That's not my meaning. But breathe his faults so quaintly That they may seem the taints of liberty, The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind, A savageness in unreclaimed blood, Of general assault.
But, my good lord- Polonius. Wherefore should you do this? Ay, my lord, I would know that. Marry, sir, here's my drift, And I believe it is a fetch of warrant. Very good, my lord. And then, sir, does 'a this- 'a does- What was I about to say? The introduction provides criticsim, covering themes, characters and dramatic. Read a character analysis of Hamlet, plot summary, and important quotes. download a copy now on download on rhizophinun. The original No Fear series made.
As You Like It. The Comedy of Errors. No Fear Shakespeare: Hamlet. When your homework rhizophinun. Scene 6. Scene 7. Act 5 Scene 1. A churchyard. Quote in Context O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! Hamlet 1. The primary function of the soliloquy is to reveal to the audience Hamlet's profound melancholia and the reasons for his despair.
In a disjointed outpouring of disgust, anger, sorrow, and grief, Hamlet explains that, without exception, everything in his world is either futile or contemptible. His speech is saturated with suggestions of rot and corruption, as seen in the basic usage of words like "rank" and "gross" , and in the metaphor associating the world with "an unweeded garden" Read on Points to Ponder 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.