[ Narrator ]
This is the tragedy...
of a man...
who could not make up his mind.
[ Bell Tolling ]
- Who´s there ? - Nay, answer me ! Stand and unfold yourself.
- Long live the king. - Bernardo ?
-He. -You come most carefully upon your hour.
´Tis now struck 1 2:==.
Get thee to bed, Francisco.
For this relief much thanks.
´Tis bitter cold...
and I´m sick at heart.
Have you had quiet guard ?
- Not a mouse stirring. - Well, good night.
If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
the rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.
I think I hear them.
- Stand ho ! Who´s there ? - Friends to this ground.
- And liegemen to the Dane. - Give you good night.
Farewell, honest soldier. Who hath relieved you ?
Bernardo hath my place. Give you good night.
- Hello, Bernardo. - Say what ? Is Horatio there ?
A piece of him. [ Chuckles ]
Welcome, Horatio.
Welcome, good Marcellus.
What, has this thing appeared again tonight ?
I´ve seen nothing.
Horatio says ´tis but our fantasy...
and will not let belief take hold of him touching this dreaded sight...
twice seen of us.
Therefore, I´ve entreated him along with us to watch the minutes of this night.
That if again this apparition comes, he may approve our eyes and speak to it.
Tush, tush, ´twill not appear.
Sit down a while and let us once again...
assail your ears that are so fortified against our story...
what we two nights have seen.
Well, sit we down,
and let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
Last night of all,
when yon same star that´s westward from the pole...
had made his course into that part of heaven where now it burns,
- Marcellus and myself, the bell then beating 1.:00-- - [ Indistinct Rumbling ]
Peace, break thee off.
Look where it comes again !
[ Bernardo ] In the same figure like the dead King Hamlet.
Thou art a scholar. Speak to it, Horatio.
[ Bernardo ] Looks it not like the king ?
- Mark it, Horatio. - Most like.
[ Horatio ] It harrows me with fear and wonder.
It would be spoke to.
Question it, Horatio.
If thou hast any sound or use of voice,
speak to me.
If there be any good thing to be done,
that may to thee do ease and grace to me, O speak !
Stay and speak ! Stop it, Marcellus !
- ´Tis here ! - ´Tis here !
´Tis gone, and will not answer.
How now, Horatio ? You tremble and look pale.
Is not this something more than fantasy ?
- What think you on´t ? - Before my God, I might not this believe...
without the sensible and true avouch of mine own eyes.
- Is it not like the king ? - As thou art to thyself.
´Tis strange.
It was about to speak when the cock crew.
Then it started like a guilty thing upon a fearful summons.
I´ve heard the cock that is the herald to the morn...
doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat...
awake the god of day,
and at its warning the wandering and uneasy spirit hies to its confine.
It faded on the crowing of the cock.
Some say that ever ´gainst that season comes...
wherein Our Savior´s birth is celebrated,
the bird of dawning singeth all night long.
And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad.
The nights are wholesome then.
No planets strike, no fairy takes,
nor witch hath power to charm,
so hallowed and so gracious is the time.
So have I heard,
and do in part believe it.
But look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
walks o´er the dew of yon high eastern hill.
Break we our watch up,
and by my advice let us impart what we´ve seen tonight...
unto young Hamlet, for upon my life, this spirit,
dumb to us, will speak to him.
Let´s do it, I pray.
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
[ Crowd Chattering ]
Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother´s death the memory be green,
and that it us befitted to bear our hearts in grief...
and our whole kingdom to be contracted in one brow of woe,
yet so far hath discretion fought with nature...
that we with wisest sorrow think on him...
together with remembrance of ourselves.
Therefore, our sometimes sister, now our queen,
have we, as ´twere, with a defeated joy,
with mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage,
in equal scale weighing delight and dole,
taken to wife.
Nor have we herein barred your better wisdoms,
which have freely gone with this affair along.
For all, our thanks.
And now, Laertes. What´s the news with you ?
You told us of some suit. What is´t, Laertes ?
You cannot speak of reason to the Dane and lose your voice.
What must thou beg, Laertes, that shall not be my offer, not thy asking ?
The head is not more native to the heart,
the head more instrumental to the mouth...
than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.
- What wouldst thou have, Laertes ? - Dread my lord,
your leave and favor to return to France,
from whence, though willingly, I came to Denmark to show my duty in your coronation.
Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,
my thoughts and wishes bend again towards France.
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
Have you your father´s leave ? What says Polonius ?
He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave...
by laborsome petition,
and at last, upon his will I sealed my hard consent.
I do beseech you give him leave to go.
Take thy fair hour, Laertes. Time be thine...
and thy best graces spend it at thy will.
But now, our cousin Hamlet and our son.
How is it that the clouds still hang on you ?
Good Hamlet,
cast thy nighted color off...
and let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Do not forever with thy lowered lids...
seek for thy noble father in the dust.
Thou knows´t ´tis common.
All that lives must die,
passing through nature to eternity.
Aye, madam. It is common.
If it be,
why seems it so particular with thee ?
Seems, madam ?
Nay, it is. I know not ´´seems.´´
´Tis not alone my inky cloak, good Mother,
nor customary suits of solemn black...
together with all forms, modes shows of grief...
that can denote me truly.
These indeed seem,
for they are actions that a man might play.
But I have that within which passeth show.
These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
´Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,
to give these mourning duties to your father,
but you must know your father lost a father,
that father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound in filial obligation...
for some term to do obsequious sorrow,
but to persist in obstinate condolement...
is a course of impious stubbornness.
´Tis unmanly grief,
a fault to heaven, a fault against the dead,
a fault to nature, to reason most absurd,
whose common theme is death of fathers...
and who still hath cried from the first corpse till he that died today,
´´This must be so.´´
Why should we in our peevish opposition...
take it to heart ? [ Chuckles ]
- [ Scattered Chuckling ] - We pray you throw to earth...
this unprevailing woe...
and think of us as of a father.
For let the world take note,
you are the most immediate to our throne.
- [ Courtiers Murmuring ] - And with no less nobility of love...
than that which dearest father bears his son...
do I impart towards you.
[ Courtiers Applauding ]
For your intent in going back to school at Wittenberg,
it is most retrograde to our desire,
and we beseech you, bend you to remain...
here in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
our chiefest courtier, cousin and our son.
Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet.
I pray thee, stay with us.
Go not to Wittenberg.
I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
Why, ´tis a loving and a fair reply.
Be as ourself in Denmark.
Madam, come. This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet...
sits smiling to my heart.
In grace whereof, no jocund health that Denmark drinks today...
but the great cannon to the clouds shall tell,
and the king´s carouse the heavens shall roar again,
respeaking earthly thunder.
Come, away.
[ Thinking ] Oh, that this too too solid flesh would melt,
thaw and resolve itself into a dew.
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed His canon against self-slaughter.
Oh, God. God !
How weary, stale flat and unprofitable...
seem to me all the uses of this world.
Fie on´t, ah, fie !
´Tis an unweeded garden that grows to seed.
Things rank and gross in nature possess it merely.
That it should come to this.
But two months dead.
Nay, not so much. Not two.
So excellent a king that was to this Hyperion to a satyr,
so loving to my mother that he might not suffer the winds of heaven...
visit her face too roughly.
Heaven and earth. Must I remember ?
Why she would hang on him as if increase of appetite...
had grown by what it fed on.
And yet, within a month--
Let me not think on it.
Frailty, thy name is woman.
A little month, or ere those shoes were old,
with which she followed my poor father´s body--
like Niobe, all tears.
Why, she-- Even she--
Oh, God, a beast that wants discourse of reason would have mourned longer.
Marriage with my uncle.
My father´s brother, but no more like my father than I to Hercules.
Within a month, she married.
Oh, most wicked speed, to post with such dexterity to incestuous sheets.
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.
But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
My necessaries are embarked.
Farewell.
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 favor,
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.
Perhaps he loves you now,
but you must fear his greatness weighed, 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 the health of this whole state.
Then weigh what loss your honor may sustain...
if with too willing ear you list his songs...
or lose your heart...
or your chaste treasure open to his unmastered importunity.
Be wary, then.
Best safety lies in fear.
I shall the effect of this good lesson keep...
as watchman to my heart.
But, good my brother, do not as some ungracious pastors do...
show me the steep and thorny way to heaven...
whilst like a puffed and reckless libertine...
himself the primrose path of dalliance treads and minds not his own creed.
Oh, fear me not.
But here my father comes. I stay too long.
[ Polonius ] Yet here, Laertes. Aboard, aboard, for shame!
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail and you are stayed for.
There, my blessing with thee.
And these few precepts in thy memory look thou character.
Give thy thoughts no tongue nor any unproportioned thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel,
but do not dull thy palm with entertainment...
of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade.
Beware an entrance to a quarrel, but being in,
bear that the opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, but not expressed in fancy.
Rich, not gaudy, for the apparel oft proclaims the man.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be,
for loan oft loses both itself and friend...
and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
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.
Farewell. My blessing season this in thee.
Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.
The time invites you. Go.
Farewell, Ophelia.
And remember well what I said to you.
´Tis in my memory locked, and you yourself shall keep the key of it.
Farewell.
[ Footsteps Departing ]
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.
Affection ? Pooh ! 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.
Marry, I´ll teach you. Think yourself a baby.
I would not in plain terms from this time forth...
have you give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet.
Look to it, I charge you.
Come your ways.
[ Footsteps Approaching ]
[ Horatio ] Hail to your lordship.
I´m glad to see you well.
Horatio, or I do forget myself.
The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.
Sir, my good friend, I´ll change that name with you.
- Marcellus. - My good lord.
I´m very glad to see you. Good evening, sir.
But what is your affair in Elsinore ? We´ll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
My lord, I came to see your father´s funeral.
I pray you 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 baked 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.
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.
Saw ?
- Who ? - My lord, the king. Your father.
The king, my father.
Two nights together had these gentlemen Marcellus and Bernardo,
on their watch in the dead, vast middle of the night, been thus encountered.
A figure like your father, armed, appears before them,
and with solemn march goes slow and stately by them.
This to me in dread and secrecy did they impart,
and I with them the third night kept the watch,
where, as they´d reported both in time,
form of the thing, each word made true and good, the apparition comes.
I knew your father.
These hands are not more like.
- But where was this ? - My lord, upon the platform where we watched.
- Did you not speak to it ? - My lord, I did, but answer made it none.
Yet once methought it lifted up its head as it would speak.
But even then the morning cock crew loud,
and at the sound it shrunk in haste away and vanished from our sight.
- ´Tis very strange. - As I do live, my honored 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 tonight ? - [ Together ] We do, my lord.
- Armed, say you ? - Armed, my lord.
- From top to toe ? - My lord, from head to foot.
- Then you saw not his face. - Oh, yes, my lord. He wore his visor up.
What looked he ? Frowningly ?
A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
- And fixed his eyes upon you. - Most constantly.
- I would I had been there. - It would have much amazed you.
Very like, very like. Stayed it long ?
While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
- Longer. - Longer. - Not when I saw it.
His beard was grizzled, no ?
It was, as I´ve seen it in his life, a sable silver.
- I will watch tonight. Perchance ´twill walk again. - I warrant it will.
I pray you all, if you have hitherto concealed this sight...
and whatsoever else shall hap tonight, give it an understanding but no tongue.
I will requite your loves. So fare you well.
Upon the platform, twixt 1 1 :== and 1 2:==, I´ll visit you.
- [ All ] Our duty to your honor. - Your loves, as mine to you. Farewell.
[ Thinking ] My father´s spirit... in arms.
All is not well. I doubt some foul play.
Would the night were come !
Till then, sit still my soul.
Foul deeds will rise,
though all the earth o´erwhelm them, to men´s eyes.
[ Hamlet ] The air bites shrewdly. It is very cold.
[ Horatio ] It is a nipping and an eager air.
- What hour now ? - I think it lacks of 1 2:==.
- No, it is struck. - Indeed ?
I heard it not. It then draws near the season...
wherein the spirit has his wont to walk.
[ Fanfare ]
[ Shouting, Chattering ]
What does this mean, my lord ?
The king doth wake tonight and makes carouse,
keeps wassail and the swaggering upspring reels.
And as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,
the kettledrum and trumpet doth bray out the triumph of his pledge.
- Is it a custom ? - Aye, marry, is´t.
But to my mind, though I am native here and to the manner born,
it is a custom more honored in the breach than the observance.
This heavy-headed revel east and west...
makes us traduced and mocked by other nations.
They call us drunkards, and with swinish phrase soil our reputation,
and indeed it takes from our achievements, though performed at height.
[ Cannon Firing ]
So oft it chances in particular men...
that for some vicious mole of nature in them,
by the o´ergrowth of some complexion...
oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason...
or by some habit grown too much that these men,
carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,
their virtues else-- be they as pure as grace--
shall in the general censure take corruption...
from that particular fault.
[ Pounding Noise ]
[ Pounding Intensifies ]
Angels and ministers of grace defend us !
Look, my lord, it comes!
Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned,
thou comest in such a questionable shape...
that I will speak to thee.
I´ll call thee Hamlet,
King, Father.
Royal Dane, oh, answer me !
It beckons you to go away with it.
- It waves you to a more removed ground. - But do not go with it.
- No, by no means. - It will not speak. Then I will 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?
It waves me forth again. 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 ! - You shall not go, my lord !
- Hold off your hands ! - Be ruled ! You shall not go !
My fate cries out and makes each petty artery in this body...
as hardy as the Nemean lion´s nerve !
Still am I called. Unhand me, gentlemen !
By heaven, I´ll make a ghost of him that hinders me. I say, away !
Go on.
I´ll follow thee.
Whither wilt thou lead me ?
Speak. I´ll go no further.
Mark me.
I will.
I am thy father´s spirit,
doomed for a certain time to walk the night...
and for the day confined to fast in fires...
till the foul crimes done in my days of nature...
are burned and purged away.
Alas, poor ghost.
List, list,
oh, list.
If thou didst ever thy dear father love--
Oh, God !
Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.
-Murder ? -Murder 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.
[ Ghost ] Now, Hamlet, hear.
´Tis given out that sleeping in my orchard,
a serpent stung me,
so the whole ear of Denmark...
is by a forged process of my death...
rankly abused.
But know, thou noble youth,
the serpent that did sting thy father´s life...
now wears his crown.
[ Hamlet ] Oh, my prophetic soul ! My uncle.
[ Ghost ] Aye, that incestuous, that adulterate beast...
with traitorous gifts won to his shameful lust...
the will of my most seeming virtuous queen.
Oh, Hamlet, what a falling off was there.
But soft. Methinks I scent the morning air.
Brief let me be.
Sleeping within my orchard,
my custom always in the afternoon,
upon my quiet hour thy uncle stole...
with juice of cursed hemlock in a vial,
and in the porches of mine ears did pour the leprous distillment,
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.
Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother´s hand...
of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatched--
cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
no reckoning made, but sent to my account...
with all my imperfections on my head.
Oh, horrible.
Horrible !
Most 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.
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.
[ Heartbeat Pounding ]
O all you host of heaven !
O earth !
What else ? And shall I couple hell ?
[ Sobbing ]
Hold, hold my heart !
Remember thee.
Aye, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat...
in this distracted glow.
Remember thee ?
Yea, from the table of my memory I wipe away...
all trivial fond records that youth and observation copied there.
And thy commandment all alone shall live within the book and volume of my brain,
unmixed with baser matter !
Yes, by heaven !
Most pernicious woman.
O villain, villain,
smiling, damned villain.
So, uncle, there you are.
Now to my word.
It is ´´Adieu, adieu.
Remember me.´´
I have sworn it.
- [ Horatio ] My lord, my lord! - [ Marcellus ] Lord Hamlet!
So be it.
Illo, my lord !
[ Shouting ] Illo, ho, ho, boy. Come, bird, come.
- How is´t, my noble lord ? - What news, my lord ?
- Oh, wonderful. - My lord, tell it.
No. You will reveal it.
[ All ] Not I, my lord.
How say you then, would heart of man once think it ?
- But you´ll be secret. - [ All ] Aye, my lord.
There´s ne´er 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.
So, without more circumstance at all, I hold it fit that we shake hands and part.
You as your business and desire shall point you, for every man hath business...
and desire such as it is, and from mine own poor part, look you, I´ll go pray.
[ Horatio ] These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.
- I´m sorry they offend you heartily. Yes, faith, heartily. - There´s no offense--
Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio. And much offense too !
Touching this vision here, it is an honest ghost, that let me tell you.
For your desire to know what is between us, o´ermaster it as you may.
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 tonight.
- My lord, we will not. - Nay, but swear it.
- In faith, my lord, not I. - Not I, my lord.
- Upon my sword. - We have sworn, my lord, already.
- Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. - Oh, 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.
But come. Never, so help you mercy,
how strange or odd so e´er I bear myself,
as I perchance hereafter shall think fit...
to put an antic disposition on,
that you, at such times seeing me,
never shall, by the pronouncing of some doubtful phrase as, ´´Well, well, we know,´´
or ´´We could, and if we would,´´ or such ambiguous giving out,
denote that you know aught of me.
This do swear, so grace and mercy at your best need help you.
[ Heartbeat Pounding ]
[ Ghost ] 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 to express his love and friending to you,
God willing, shall not lack.
Go in, and still your fingers on your lips I pray.
The time is out of joint.
Oh, cursed spite,
that ever I was born to set it right.
Come. Let´s go together.
[ Ophelia Narrating ] As I was sewing in my closet,
Lord Hamlet,
with his doublet all unlaced,
pale as his shirt...
and with a look...
so piteous in purport...
as if he had been loosed out of hell to speak of horrors,
he comes before me.
He took me by the wrist...
and held me hard.
Then goes he to the length of all his arm,
and with his other hand thus o´er his brow,
he falls to such perusal of my face...
as he would draw it.
Long stayed he so.
At last, a little shaking of mine arm...
and thrice his head thus waving up and down.
He raised a sigh...
so piteous and profound...
as it did seem to shatter all his bulk...
and end his being.
That done, he let me go,
and with his head over his shoulder turned,
he seemed to find his way without his eyes,
for out of doors he went without their help...
and, to the last, bended their light...
on me.
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?
More matter with less art.
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.
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.
´´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--´´
Et cetera.
- Came this from Hamlet to her ? - Good madam, stay a while.
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.
Oh, dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers.
I have not art to reckon my groans.
But that I love thee best, oh, most best, believe it.
Adieu. Thine evermore, most dear lady,
while this frame 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.
But how hath she received his love ?
What do you think of me ?
As of a man faithful and honorable.
I would fain prove so.
But what might you think, when I had seen this hot love on the wing,
if I had looked 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 prescripts gave her that she should...
lock herself from his resort, admit no messengers, receive no tokens.
And he, repulsed, a short tale to make, fell into a sadness,
then into a fast, thence to a watch, thence to a weakness,
thence into a lightness, and by this declension...
into that madness wherein now he raves...
and all we mourn for.
Do you think ´tis this ?
It may be, very likely.
Hath there been such a time, I´ d fain know that,
that I have positively said ´´´Tis so´´ that it proved otherwise ?
Not that I know.
Take this from this if this be otherwise.
[ King ] How may we try it further ?
You know, sometimes he walks four hours together here in the lobby.
- [ Queen ] So he does, indeed. - At such a time...
I´ll loose my daughter to him.
Be you and I behind an arras then.
Mark the encounter. If he loves her not,
and be not from his reason fallen thereon,
let me be no assistant for a state...
but keep a farm and carters.
[ King ] We will try it.
But look where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.
Away. I do beseech you both, away,
I´ll board him presently.
Oh, give me leave.
How does my good Lord Hamlet ?
- Well, God-a-mercy. - Do you know me, my lord ?
- Excellent well. You are a fishmonger. - Not I, my lord.
- Then I would you were so honest a man. - Honest, my lord ?
Aye, sir. To be honest as this world goes...
is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
That´s very true, my lord.
For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog--
Have you a daughter ?
- I have, my lord. - Let her not walk in the sun.
Conception is a blessing,
but as your daughter may conceive,
friend, look to it.
How say you by that ? Still harping on my daughter.
Yet he knew me not at first. He said I was a fishmonger.
He´s far gone, far gone.
But I´ll speak to him again.
What do you read, my lord ?
Words, words, words.
- What is the matter, my lord ? - Between who ?
- I mean, the letter that you read, my lord. - Slander, sir.
For the satirical rogue says here that old men have gray beards,
that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber...
and plum tree gum,
that they have a plentiful lack of wit,
together with most weak hams.
All of which, sir, though I most powerfully believe,
yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down,
for you yourself, sir, shall be old as I am...
if like a crab you could go backward.
Though this be madness, yet there´s method in´t.
-Will you walk out of the air, my lord ? -Into my grave ?
Indeed, that is out of the air.
How pregnant sometimes his replies are.
My honorable lord,
I will most humbly take my leave of you.
You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more willingly part withal.
Except my life.
Read on this book.
That show of such an exercise may color your loneliness.
Gracious, so please you, we´ll bestow ourselves.
Ophelia, walk you here.
Let´s withdraw, my lord.
Soft you now.
The fair Ophelia.
Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered.
Good, my lord !
How does Your Honor for this many a day ?
I humbly thank you.
Well, well, well.
My lord, I have remembrances of yours...
that I have longed long to redeliver.
I pray you now, receive them.
No, not I.
I never gave you aught.
My honored lord, you know right well you did.
And with them, words of so sweet breath composed...
as made the things more rich.
Their perfume lost, take these again,
for to the noble mind, rich gifts wax poor...
when givers prove unkind.
There, my lord.
Are you honest ?
My lord ?
I did love you once.
Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
You should not have believed me.
Get thee to a nunnery.
Why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners ?
I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse me of such things...
that it were better my mother had not borne me.
I am very proud,
revengeful,
ambitious,
with more offenses at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in,
imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in.
What should such fellows as I do crawling between heaven and earth ?
We are arrant knaves all. Believe none of us.
Go thy ways to a nunnery.
Where´s your father ?
At home, my lord. [ Sobbing ]
Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool nowhere but in his own house.
- Farewell ! - [ Sobbing ] Oh, help me, you sweet heavens.
I have heard your paintings too, well enough !
God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another.
You jig, you amble, you lisp.
You nickname God´s creatures and make your wantonness your ignorance.
Get thee to a nunnery, and quickly, too. Farewell !
Or if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool,
for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them.
- Go to ! I´ll no more of it ! - [ Sobbing ]
- It hath made me mad. - [ Continues Sobbing ]
I say we will have no more marriages !
Those that are married already,
all but one shall live !
The rest shall stay as they are.
[ Continues Sobbing ]
To a nunnery... go.
[ Wailing ]
Love ! His affections do not that way tend.
Nor what he spake, though it lacked form a little,
was not like madness.
There´s something in his soul...
o´er which his melancholy sits on brood.
And I do fear the unheeded consequence will be some danger,
the which to prevent I have in quick determination thus set it down.
He shall with speed to England.
Haply the seas and countries different with variable objects...
shall expel this something settled matter in his heart.
- What think you on´t ? - It shall do well,
but yet I do believe the origin and commencement of his grief...
sprung from neglected love.
How now, Ophelia ?
You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said.
We heard it all.
My lord, do as you please.
It shall be so. Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.
[ Sobbing ]
To be,
or not to be.
That is the question.
Whether ´tis nobler in the mind...
to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune...
or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
and by opposing...
end them.
[ Thinking ] To die.
To sleep no more.
And by a sleep to say we end the heartache...
and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to,
´tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.
To die, to sleep.
To sleep.
Perchance to dream !
Aye, there´s the rub.
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come...
when we have shuffled off this mortal coil...
must give us pause.
There´s the respect that makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
the oppressor´s wrong,
the proud man´s contumely,
the pangs of despised love,
the law´s delays,
the insolence of office...
and the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy takes...
when he himself might his quietus make...
with a bare bodkin ?
Who would fardels bear,
to grunt and sweat under a weary life,
but that the dread of something after death,
the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveller returns,
puzzles the will...
and makes us rather bear those ills we have...
than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all.
And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o´er...
with the pale cast of thought.
And enterprises of great pith and moment...
with this regard their currents turn awry...
and lose the name of action.
My lord, I have news to tell you.
The actors are come hither, my lord.
He that plays the king shall be welcome.
´´The best actors in the world,
either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral,
pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral,
tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral.
Seneca cannot be too heavy nor Plautus too light.
For these are the only men.´´
- [ Dog Barking ] - [ Actors Chattering ]
You are welcome, masters. Welcome, all.
- [ Dog Barks ] - I am glad to see thee well.
- [ Actors Laugh ] - Welcome, good friends !
- [ Musicians Play Flourish ] - [ Hamlet Laughs ]
Oh, my old friend. Why, thy face is valanced since I saw thee last.
Comest thou to beard me in Denmark ?
- [ Actors Laugh ] - What, my young lady and mistress !
By our lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last.
Pray God, your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked in its ring.
- [ Laughing ] - Masters, you are all welcome !
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.
My lord, I will use them according to their desert.
God´s bodykins, much better. Use every man after his desert and who shall escape whipping ?
Use them after your own honor and dignity.
The less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. Take them in.
- Come, sirs. - Follow him, friends.
We hear a play tomorrow.
Dost hear me, old friend.
Can you play The Murder of Gonzago ?
- Aye, my lord. - We´ll have it tomorrow night.
You could, for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines...
that I would set down and insert in it, could you not ?
Aye, my lord.
Very well. Follow that lord, and look you mock him not.
[ Chuckles ]
The play´s the thing wherein I´ll catch the conscience of the king !
[ 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 you hand, thus,
but use all gently.
For in the very torrent, tempest and, as I may say, whirlwind, of your passion,
you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness.
Oh, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious, periwig-pated fellow...
tear a passion to tatters to split the ears of the groundlings,
who, for the most part, are capable of nothing...
but inexplicable dumb shows and noise.
I would have such a fellow whipped.
It out-Herods Herod. Pray you, avoid it.
- I warrant, Your Honor. - Hmm.
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 of 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,
though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve.
The censure of which one must in your allowance outweigh a whole theatre of others.
Oh, there be players that I have seen play...
and heard others praise-- and that highly, not to speak of profanely--
that having neither the accent of Christians nor the gait of pagan, Christian nor man,
have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature´s journeymen...
have made men and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us, sir.
Oh, 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 barren quantity of spectators to laugh too,
though in the meantime some necessary question of the play be then to be considered.
That´s villainous ! And shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it.
Go, make you ready.
How now, my lord. Will the king hear this piece of work ?
And the queen too, and that presently.
- Bid the players make haste. - Aye, my lord.
- Horatio. - Here, sweet lord, at your service.
- Observe mine uncle. Give him heedful note. - Well, my lord.
They are coming to the play. I must be idle. Get you a place.
[ Trumpet Flourish ]
[ Continues ]
How fares our cousin Hamlet ?
Excellent, i´ faith. Of the chameleon´s dish.
I eat the air, promise-crammed. You cannot feed capons so.
I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet. These words are not mine.
No, nor mine now. My lord, you played once in the university, you say ?
That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor.
- What did you enact ? - I did enact Julius Caesar.
I was killed in the Capitol. Brutus killed me.
- It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there. - [ Laughs ]
- Be the players ready ? - Aye, my lord. They stay upon your patience.
Come hither, my dear Hamlet. Sit by me.
- No, good Mother. Here´s metal more attractive. - [ Onlookers Gasp ]
Oh, ho. Did you mark that ?
Lady, shall I lie in your lap ?
- No, my lord. - I mean my head upon your lap.
- Aye, my lord. - Do you think I meant country matters ?
- I think nothing, my lord. - That´s a fair thought to lie between maid´s legs.
- What is, my lord ? - Nothing.
- You are merry, my lord. - Who ? I ?
- Aye, my lord. - Oh, God, your only jig maker.
Why, what should a man do but be merry ?
For look you how merrily my mother looks, and my father died within two hours !
Nay, ´tis twice two months, my lord.
So long ? Nay, then. Let the devil wear black, for I´ll have a suit of sables.
O heavens. Died two months ago, and not forgotten yet ?
Why then there´s hope a great man´s memory may outlive his life half a year.
[ Trumpet Fanfare ]
For us and for our tragedy,
here stooping to your clemency,
we beg your hearing patiently.
[ Scattered Clapping ]
- Is this a prologue or the posy of a ring ? - ´Tis brief, my lord.
As woman´s love.
You are keen, my lord. You are keen.
It would cost you a groaning to take off mine edge.
[ Clapping ]
[ Audience Murmurs ]
Give me some light !
- [ Laughing ] - Away !
Lights ! Lights !
Lights! Lights!
[ Women Screaming ]
Why, let the stricken deer go weep
The hart ungalled play
For some must watch whilst some must sleep
Thus runs the world away
Oh, good Horatio ! I´ll take the ghost´s word for a thousand pounds. Didst perceive ?
- Very well, my lord. - Upon the act of poisoning. God bless you, sir !
- Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you. - Sir, a whole history.
- The king, sir-- - Aye, sir, what of him ?
- He is in his retirement marvelous distempered. - With drink, sir ?
No, my lord. Rather with choler.
Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify this to the doctor.
For, for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps plunge him into far more choler.
Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and start not so wildly from my affair.
- I am tame, sir. Pronounce. - The queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit...
- hath sent me to you. - You are welcome.
Nay, 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.
- Sir, I cannot. - What, my lord ?
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. - She desires to speak with you in her closet ere you go to bed.
We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any further trade with us ?
My lord, the queen would speak with you, and presently !
Do you see yonder cloud that´s almost in shape of a camel ?
By the mass, and ´tis like a camel indeed.