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No Fear Translations
No Fear Audio
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Original Text |
Modern Text |
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Enter HORATIO , GERTRUDE , and a GENTLEMAN
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Enter HORATIO , GERTRUDE , and a GENTLEMAN
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GERTRUDE I will not speak with her.
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GERTRUDE I will not speak with her.
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GENTLEMAN She is importunate,
Indeed distract. Her mood will needs be pitied.
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GENTLEMAN She is importunate,
Indeed distract. Her mood will needs be pitied.
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GERTRUDE What would she have?
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GERTRUDE What would she have?
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GENTLEMAN She speaks much of her father, says she hears
Spurns enviously at straws, speaks things in doubt
That carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing,
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
The hearers to collection. They aim at it,
10 And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts,
Which, as her winks and nods and gestures yield them,
Indeed would make one think there might be thought,
Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
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GENTLEMAN She speaks much of her father, says she hears
Spurns enviously at straws, speaks things in doubt
That carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing,
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
The hearers to collection. They aim at it,
And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts,
Which, as her winks and nods and gestures yield them,
Indeed would make one think there might be thought,
Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
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HORATIO 'Twere good she were spoken with, for she may strew
15 Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
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HORATIO 'Twere good she were spoken with, for she may strew
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
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GERTRUDE Let her come in.
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GERTRUDE Let her come in.
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Exit GENTLEMAN
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Exit GENTLEMAN
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(aside) To my sick soul (as sin’s true nature is)
Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss.
So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
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(aside) To my sick soul (as sin’s true nature is)
Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss.
So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
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Enter OPHELIA , distracted
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Enter OPHELIA , distracted
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OPHELIA 20 Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
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OPHELIA Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
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GERTRUDE How now, Ophelia?
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GERTRUDE How now, Ophelia?
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OPHELIA (sings)
How should I your true love know
From another one?
By his cockle hat and staff,
And his sandal shoon.
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OPHELIA (sings)
How should I your true love know
From another one?
By his cockle hat and staff,
And his sandal shoon.
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GERTRUDE Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
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GERTRUDE Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
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OPHELIA Say you? Nay, pray you, mark.
He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone,
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.
Oh, ho!
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OPHELIA Say you? Nay, pray you, mark.
He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone,
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.
Oh, ho!
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GERTRUDE Nay, but, Ophelia—
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GERTRUDE Nay, but, Ophelia—
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OPHELIA Pray you, mark.
(sings)
White his shroud as the mountain snow—
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OPHELIA Pray you, mark.
(sings)
White his shroud as the mountain snow—
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Enter CLAUDIUS
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Enter CLAUDIUS
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GERTRUDE 30 Alas, look here, my lord.
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GERTRUDE Alas, look here, my lord.
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OPHELIA (sings)
Larded all with sweet flowers,
Which bewept to the ground did not go
With true-love showers.
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OPHELIA (sings)
Larded all with sweet flowers,
Which bewept to the ground did not go
With true-love showers.
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CLAUDIUS How do you, pretty lady?
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CLAUDIUS How do you, pretty lady?
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OPHELIA Well, God'ield you! They say the owl was a baker’s daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table.
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OPHELIA Well, God'ield you! They say the owl was a baker’s daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table.
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CLAUDIUS Conceit upon her father.
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CLAUDIUS Conceit upon her father.
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OPHELIA Pray you, let’s have no words of this, but when they ask you what it means, say you this:
(sings)
Tomorrow is Saint Valentine’s day,
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose, and donned his clothes,
And dupped the chamber door.
Let in the maid that out a maid
Never departed more.
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OPHELIA Pray you, let’s have no words of this, but when they ask you what it means, say you this:
(sings)
Tomorrow is Saint Valentine’s day,
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose, and donned his clothes,
And dupped the chamber door.
Let in the maid that out a maid
Never departed more.
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CLAUDIUS Pretty Ophelia—
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CLAUDIUS Pretty Ophelia—
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OPHELIA (sings)
By Gis and by Saint Charity,
Alack, and fie, for shame!
Young men will do ’t, if they come to ’t.
By Cock, they are to blame.
Quoth she, “Before you tumbled me,
You promised me to wed.”
He answers,
“So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.”
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OPHELIA (sings)
By Gis and by Saint Charity,
Alack, and fie, for shame!
Young men will do ’t, if they come to ’t.
By Cock, they are to blame.
Quoth she, “Before you tumbled me,
You promised me to wed.”
He answers,
“So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.”
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CLAUDIUS How long hath she been thus?
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CLAUDIUS How long hath she been thus?
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OPHELIA I hope all will be well. We must be patient, but I cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him i' th' cold ground. My brother shall know of it, and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies. Good night, sweet ladies. Good night, good night.
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OPHELIA I hope all will be well. We must be patient, but I cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him i' th' cold ground. My brother shall know of it, and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies. Good night, sweet ladies. Good night, good night.
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Exit OPHELIA
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Exit OPHELIA
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CLAUDIUS Follow her close. Give her good watch, I pray you.
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CLAUDIUS Follow her close. Give her good watch, I pray you.
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Exit HORATIO
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Exit HORATIO
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Oh, this is the poison of deep grief. It springs
50 All from her father’s death, and now behold!
O Gertrude, Gertrude,
When sorrows come, they come not single spies
But in battalions. First, her father slain.
Next, your son gone, and he most violent author
55 Of his own just remove. The people muddied,
Thick, and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers
For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly
In hugger-mugger to inter him. Poor Ophelia
Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
60 Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts.
Last—and as much containing as all these—
Her brother is in secret come from France,
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
65 With pestilent speeches of his father’s death,
Wherein necessity, of matter beggared,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering piece, in many places
70 Gives me superfluous death.
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Oh, this is the poison of deep grief. It springs
All from her father’s death, and now behold!
O Gertrude, Gertrude,
When sorrows come, they come not single spies
But in battalions. First, her father slain.
Next, your son gone, and he most violent author
Of his own just remove. The people muddied,
Thick, and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers
For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly
In hugger-mugger to inter him. Poor Ophelia
Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts.
Last—and as much containing as all these—
Her brother is in secret come from France,
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father’s death,
Wherein necessity, of matter beggared,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering piece, in many places
Gives me superfluous death.
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A noise within
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A noise within
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GERTRUDE Alack, what noise is this?
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GERTRUDE Alack, what noise is this?
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CLAUDIUS Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door.
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CLAUDIUS Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door.
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Enter a MESSENGER
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Enter a MESSENGER
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What is the matter?
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What is the matter?
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MESSENGER Save yourself, my lord.
The ocean, overpeering of his list,
Eats not the flats with more impiteous haste
75 Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him “lord”
And—as the world were now but to begin,
Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
The ratifiers and props of every word—
Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds:
“Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!”
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MESSENGER Save yourself, my lord.
The ocean, overpeering of his list,
Eats not the flats with more impiteous haste
Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him “lord”
And—as the world were now but to begin,
Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
The ratifiers and props of every word—
Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds:
“Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!”
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GERTRUDE How cheerfully on the false trail they cry.
O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!
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GERTRUDE How cheerfully on the false trail they cry.
O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!
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Noise within
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Noise within
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CLAUDIUS 85 The doors are broke.
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CLAUDIUS The doors are broke.
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Enter LAERTES with others
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Enter LAERTES with others
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LAERTES Where is this king?—Sirs, stand you all without.
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LAERTES Where is this king?—Sirs, stand you all without.
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ALL No, let’s come in!
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ALL No, let’s come in!
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LAERTES I pray you, give me leave.
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LAERTES I pray you, give me leave.
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ALL We will, we will.
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ALL We will, we will.
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Exeunt LAERTES' FOLLOWERS
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Exeunt LAERTES' FOLLOWERS
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LAERTES 90 I thank you. Keep the door.—O thou vile king,
Give me my father!
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LAERTES I thank you. Keep the door.—O thou vile king,
Give me my father!
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GERTRUDE Calmly, good Laertes.
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GERTRUDE Calmly, good Laertes.
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LAERTES That drop of blood that’s calm proclaims me bastard,
Cries “Cuckold!” to my father, brands the “harlot”
Even here between the chaste unsmirchèd brow
95 Of my true mother.
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LAERTES That drop of blood that’s calm proclaims me bastard,
Cries “Cuckold!” to my father, brands the “harlot”
Even here between the chaste unsmirchèd brow
Of my true mother.
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CLAUDIUS What is the cause, Laertes,
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?—
Let him go, Gertrude. Do not fear our person.
There’s such divinity doth hedge a king
That treason can but peep to what it would,
100 Acts little of his will.—Tell me, Laertes,
Why thou art thus incensed.—Let him go, Gertrude.—
Speak, man.
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CLAUDIUS What is the cause, Laertes,
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?—
Let him go, Gertrude. Do not fear our person.
There’s such divinity doth hedge a king
That treason can but peep to what it would,
Acts little of his will.—Tell me, Laertes,
Why thou art thus incensed.—Let him go, Gertrude.—
Speak, man.
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LAERTES Where is my father?
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LAERTES Where is my father?
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CLAUDIUS Dead.
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CLAUDIUS Dead.
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GERTRUDE But not by him.
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GERTRUDE But not by him.
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CLAUDIUS Let him demand his fill.
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CLAUDIUS Let him demand his fill.
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LAERTES How came he dead? I’ll not be juggled with.
105 To hell, allegiance! Vows, to the blackest devil!
Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!
I dare damnation. To this point I stand
That both the worlds I give to negligence.
Let come what comes, only I’ll be revenged
110 Most thoroughly for my father.
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LAERTES How came he dead? I’ll not be juggled with.
To hell, allegiance! Vows, to the blackest devil!
Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!
I dare damnation. To this point I stand
That both the worlds I give to negligence.
Let come what comes, only I’ll be revenged
Most thoroughly for my father.
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CLAUDIUS Who shall stay you?
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CLAUDIUS Who shall stay you?
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LAERTES My will, not all the world.
And for my means, I’ll husband them so well,
They shall go far with little.
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LAERTES My will, not all the world.
And for my means, I’ll husband them so well,
They shall go far with little.
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CLAUDIUS Good Laertes,
115 If you desire to know the certainty
Of your dear father’s death, is ’t writ in your revenge,
That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend and foe,
Winner and loser?
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CLAUDIUS Good Laertes,
If you desire to know the certainty
Of your dear father’s death, is ’t writ in your revenge,
That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend and foe,
Winner and loser?
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LAERTES None but his enemies.
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LAERTES None but his enemies.
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CLAUDIUS 120 Will you know them then?
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CLAUDIUS Will you know them then?
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LAERTES To his good friends thus wide I’ll ope my arms
And, like the kind life-rendering pelican,
Repast them with my blood.
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LAERTES To his good friends thus wide I’ll ope my arms
And, like the kind life-rendering pelican,
Repast them with my blood.
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CLAUDIUS Why, now you speak
Like a good child and a true gentleman.
125 That I am guiltless of your father’s death
And am most sensible in grief for it,
It shall as level to your judgment pierce
As day does to your eye.
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CLAUDIUS Why, now you speak
Like a good child and a true gentleman.
That I am guiltless of your father’s death
And am most sensible in grief for it,
It shall as level to your judgment pierce
As day does to your eye.
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Noise within: “Let her come in!”
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Noise within: “Let her come in!”
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LAERTES How now? What noise is that?
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LAERTES How now? What noise is that?
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Enter OPHELIA
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Enter OPHELIA
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130 O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt,
Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight,
Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May,
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
Should be as mortal as an old man’s life?
Nature is fine in love, and where ’tis fine,
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.
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O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt,
Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight,
Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May,
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
Should be as mortal as an old man’s life?
Nature is fine in love, and where ’tis fine,
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.
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OPHELIA They bore him barefaced on the bier,
Hey, non nonny, nonny, hey, nonny,
And in his grave rained many a tear.
Fare you well, my dove.
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OPHELIA They bore him barefaced on the bier,
Hey, non nonny, nonny, hey, nonny,
And in his grave rained many a tear.
Fare you well, my dove.
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LAERTES Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move thus.
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LAERTES Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move thus.
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OPHELIA You must sing A-down a-down—And you, Call him a- down-a—Oh, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward that stole his master’s daughter.
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OPHELIA You must sing A-down a-down—And you, Call him a- down-a—Oh, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward that stole his master’s daughter.
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LAERTES This nothing’s more than matter.
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LAERTES This nothing’s more than matter.
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OPHELIA There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember. And there is pansies, that’s for thoughts.
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OPHELIA There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember. And there is pansies, that’s for thoughts.
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LAERTES A document in madness. Thoughts and remembrance fitted.
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LAERTES A document in madness. Thoughts and remembrance fitted.
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OPHELIA There’s fennel for you, and columbines.—There’s rue for you, and here’s some for me. We may call it “herb of grace” o' Sundays.—Oh, you must wear your rue with a difference.—There’s a daisy. I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died. They say he made a good end (sings) For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy—
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OPHELIA There’s fennel for you, and columbines.—There’s rue for you, and here’s some for me. We may call it “herb of grace” o' Sundays.—Oh, you must wear your rue with a difference.—There’s a daisy. I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died. They say he made a good end (sings) For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy—
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LAERTES Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
She turns to favor and to prettiness.
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LAERTES Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
She turns to favor and to prettiness.
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OPHELIA And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead,
Go to thy deathbed.
He never will come again.
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll.
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away moan,
God ha' mercy on his soul.—
And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye.
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OPHELIA And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead,
Go to thy deathbed.
He never will come again.
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll.
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away moan,
God ha' mercy on his soul.—
And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye.
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Exit OPHELIA
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Exit OPHELIA
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LAERTES Do you see this, O God?
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LAERTES Do you see this, O God?
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CLAUDIUS Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
165 Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will.
And they shall hear and judge ’twixt you and me.
If by direct or by collateral hand
They find us touched, we will our kingdom give,
Our crown, our life, and all that we can ours,
170 To you in satisfaction. But if not,
Be you content to lend your patience to us,
And we shall jointly labor with your soul
To give it due content.
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CLAUDIUS Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will.
And they shall hear and judge ’twixt you and me.
If by direct or by collateral hand
They find us touched, we will our kingdom give,
Our crown, our life, and all that we can ours,
To you in satisfaction. But if not,
Be you content to lend your patience to us,
And we shall jointly labor with your soul
To give it due content.
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LAERTES Let this be so.
His means of death, his obscure funeral—
175 No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,
No noble rite nor formal ostentation—
Cry to be heard as ’twere from heaven to earth,
That I must call ’t in question.
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LAERTES Let this be so.
His means of death, his obscure funeral—
No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,
No noble rite nor formal ostentation—
Cry to be heard as ’twere from heaven to earth,
That I must call ’t in question.
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CLAUDIUS So you shall.
And where the offense is, let the great ax fall.
180 I pray you, go with me.
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CLAUDIUS So you shall.
And where the offense is, let the great ax fall.
I pray you, go with me.
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Exeunt
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Exeunt
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Original Text |
Modern Text |
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Enter HORATIO , GERTRUDE , and a GENTLEMAN
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Enter HORATIO , GERTRUDE , and a GENTLEMAN
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GERTRUDE I will not speak with her.
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GERTRUDE I will not speak with her.
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GENTLEMAN She is importunate,
Indeed distract. Her mood will needs be pitied.
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GENTLEMAN She is importunate,
Indeed distract. Her mood will needs be pitied.
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GERTRUDE What would she have?
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GERTRUDE What would she have?
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GENTLEMAN She speaks much of her father, says she hears
Spurns enviously at straws, speaks things in doubt
That carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing,
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
The hearers to collection. They aim at it,
10 And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts,
Which, as her winks and nods and gestures yield them,
Indeed would make one think there might be thought,
Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
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GENTLEMAN She speaks much of her father, says she hears
Spurns enviously at straws, speaks things in doubt
That carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing,
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
The hearers to collection. They aim at it,
And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts,
Which, as her winks and nods and gestures yield them,
Indeed would make one think there might be thought,
Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
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HORATIO 'Twere good she were spoken with, for she may strew
15 Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
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HORATIO 'Twere good she were spoken with, for she may strew
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
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GERTRUDE Let her come in.
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GERTRUDE Let her come in.
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Exit GENTLEMAN
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Exit GENTLEMAN
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(aside) To my sick soul (as sin’s true nature is)
Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss.
So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
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(aside) To my sick soul (as sin’s true nature is)
Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss.
So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
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Enter OPHELIA , distracted
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Enter OPHELIA , distracted
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OPHELIA 20 Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
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OPHELIA Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
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GERTRUDE How now, Ophelia?
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GERTRUDE How now, Ophelia?
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OPHELIA (sings)
How should I your true love know
From another one?
By his cockle hat and staff,
And his sandal shoon.
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OPHELIA (sings)
How should I your true love know
From another one?
By his cockle hat and staff,
And his sandal shoon.
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GERTRUDE Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
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GERTRUDE Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
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OPHELIA Say you? Nay, pray you, mark.
He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone,
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.
Oh, ho!
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OPHELIA Say you? Nay, pray you, mark.
He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone,
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.
Oh, ho!
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GERTRUDE Nay, but, Ophelia—
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GERTRUDE Nay, but, Ophelia—
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OPHELIA Pray you, mark.
(sings)
White his shroud as the mountain snow—
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OPHELIA Pray you, mark.
(sings)
White his shroud as the mountain snow—
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Enter CLAUDIUS
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Enter CLAUDIUS
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GERTRUDE 30 Alas, look here, my lord.
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GERTRUDE Alas, look here, my lord.
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OPHELIA (sings)
Larded all with sweet flowers,
Which bewept to the ground did not go
With true-love showers.
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OPHELIA (sings)
Larded all with sweet flowers,
Which bewept to the ground did not go
With true-love showers.
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CLAUDIUS How do you, pretty lady?
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CLAUDIUS How do you, pretty lady?
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OPHELIA Well, God'ield you! They say the owl was a baker’s daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table.
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OPHELIA Well, God'ield you! They say the owl was a baker’s daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table.
|
|
CLAUDIUS Conceit upon her father.
|
CLAUDIUS Conceit upon her father.
|
|
OPHELIA Pray you, let’s have no words of this, but when they ask you what it means, say you this:
(sings)
Tomorrow is Saint Valentine’s day,
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose, and donned his clothes,
And dupped the chamber door.
Let in the maid that out a maid
Never departed more.
|
OPHELIA Pray you, let’s have no words of this, but when they ask you what it means, say you this:
(sings)
Tomorrow is Saint Valentine’s day,
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose, and donned his clothes,
And dupped the chamber door.
Let in the maid that out a maid
Never departed more.
|
|
CLAUDIUS Pretty Ophelia—
|
CLAUDIUS Pretty Ophelia—
|
|
OPHELIA (sings)
By Gis and by Saint Charity,
Alack, and fie, for shame!
Young men will do ’t, if they come to ’t.
By Cock, they are to blame.
Quoth she, “Before you tumbled me,
You promised me to wed.”
He answers,
“So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.”
|
OPHELIA (sings)
By Gis and by Saint Charity,
Alack, and fie, for shame!
Young men will do ’t, if they come to ’t.
By Cock, they are to blame.
Quoth she, “Before you tumbled me,
You promised me to wed.”
He answers,
“So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.”
|
|
CLAUDIUS How long hath she been thus?
|
CLAUDIUS How long hath she been thus?
|
|
OPHELIA I hope all will be well. We must be patient, but I cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him i' th' cold ground. My brother shall know of it, and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies. Good night, sweet ladies. Good night, good night.
|
OPHELIA I hope all will be well. We must be patient, but I cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him i' th' cold ground. My brother shall know of it, and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies. Good night, sweet ladies. Good night, good night.
|
|
Exit OPHELIA
|
Exit OPHELIA
|
|
CLAUDIUS Follow her close. Give her good watch, I pray you.
|
CLAUDIUS Follow her close. Give her good watch, I pray you.
|
|
Exit HORATIO
|
Exit HORATIO
|
|
Oh, this is the poison of deep grief. It springs
50 All from her father’s death, and now behold!
O Gertrude, Gertrude,
When sorrows come, they come not single spies
But in battalions. First, her father slain.
Next, your son gone, and he most violent author
55 Of his own just remove. The people muddied,
Thick, and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers
For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly
In hugger-mugger to inter him. Poor Ophelia
Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
60 Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts.
Last—and as much containing as all these—
Her brother is in secret come from France,
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
65 With pestilent speeches of his father’s death,
Wherein necessity, of matter beggared,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering piece, in many places
70 Gives me superfluous death.
|
Oh, this is the poison of deep grief. It springs
All from her father’s death, and now behold!
O Gertrude, Gertrude,
When sorrows come, they come not single spies
But in battalions. First, her father slain.
Next, your son gone, and he most violent author
Of his own just remove. The people muddied,
Thick, and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers
For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly
In hugger-mugger to inter him. Poor Ophelia
Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts.
Last—and as much containing as all these—
Her brother is in secret come from France,
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father’s death,
Wherein necessity, of matter beggared,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering piece, in many places
Gives me superfluous death.
|
|
A noise within
|
A noise within
|
|
GERTRUDE Alack, what noise is this?
|
GERTRUDE Alack, what noise is this?
|
|
CLAUDIUS Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door.
|
CLAUDIUS Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door.
|
|
Enter a MESSENGER
|
Enter a MESSENGER
|
|
What is the matter?
|
What is the matter?
|
|
MESSENGER Save yourself, my lord.
The ocean, overpeering of his list,
Eats not the flats with more impiteous haste
75 Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him “lord”
And—as the world were now but to begin,
Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
The ratifiers and props of every word—
Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds:
“Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!”
|
MESSENGER Save yourself, my lord.
The ocean, overpeering of his list,
Eats not the flats with more impiteous haste
Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him “lord”
And—as the world were now but to begin,
Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
The ratifiers and props of every word—
Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds:
“Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!”
|
|
GERTRUDE How cheerfully on the false trail they cry.
O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!
|
GERTRUDE How cheerfully on the false trail they cry.
O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!
|
|
Noise within
|
Noise within
|
|
CLAUDIUS 85 The doors are broke.
|
CLAUDIUS The doors are broke.
|
|
Enter LAERTES with others
|
Enter LAERTES with others
|
|
LAERTES Where is this king?—Sirs, stand you all without.
|
LAERTES Where is this king?—Sirs, stand you all without.
|
|
ALL No, let’s come in!
|
ALL No, let’s come in!
|
|
LAERTES I pray you, give me leave.
|
LAERTES I pray you, give me leave.
|
|
ALL We will, we will.
|
ALL We will, we will.
|
|
Exeunt LAERTES' FOLLOWERS
|
Exeunt LAERTES' FOLLOWERS
|
|
LAERTES 90 I thank you. Keep the door.—O thou vile king,
Give me my father!
|
LAERTES I thank you. Keep the door.—O thou vile king,
Give me my father!
|
|
GERTRUDE Calmly, good Laertes.
|
GERTRUDE Calmly, good Laertes.
|
|
LAERTES That drop of blood that’s calm proclaims me bastard,
Cries “Cuckold!” to my father, brands the “harlot”
Even here between the chaste unsmirchèd brow
95 Of my true mother.
|
LAERTES That drop of blood that’s calm proclaims me bastard,
Cries “Cuckold!” to my father, brands the “harlot”
Even here between the chaste unsmirchèd brow
Of my true mother.
|
|
CLAUDIUS What is the cause, Laertes,
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?—
Let him go, Gertrude. Do not fear our person.
There’s such divinity doth hedge a king
That treason can but peep to what it would,
100 Acts little of his will.—Tell me, Laertes,
Why thou art thus incensed.—Let him go, Gertrude.—
Speak, man.
|
CLAUDIUS What is the cause, Laertes,
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?—
Let him go, Gertrude. Do not fear our person.
There’s such divinity doth hedge a king
That treason can but peep to what it would,
Acts little of his will.—Tell me, Laertes,
Why thou art thus incensed.—Let him go, Gertrude.—
Speak, man.
|
|
LAERTES Where is my father?
|
LAERTES Where is my father?
|
|
CLAUDIUS Dead.
|
CLAUDIUS Dead.
|
|
GERTRUDE But not by him.
|
GERTRUDE But not by him.
|
|
CLAUDIUS Let him demand his fill.
|
CLAUDIUS Let him demand his fill.
|
|
LAERTES How came he dead? I’ll not be juggled with.
105 To hell, allegiance! Vows, to the blackest devil!
Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!
I dare damnation. To this point I stand
That both the worlds I give to negligence.
Let come what comes, only I’ll be revenged
110 Most thoroughly for my father.
|
LAERTES How came he dead? I’ll not be juggled with.
To hell, allegiance! Vows, to the blackest devil!
Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!
I dare damnation. To this point I stand
That both the worlds I give to negligence.
Let come what comes, only I’ll be revenged
Most thoroughly for my father.
|
|
CLAUDIUS Who shall stay you?
|
CLAUDIUS Who shall stay you?
|
|
LAERTES My will, not all the world.
And for my means, I’ll husband them so well,
They shall go far with little.
|
LAERTES My will, not all the world.
And for my means, I’ll husband them so well,
They shall go far with little.
|
|
CLAUDIUS Good Laertes,
115 If you desire to know the certainty
Of your dear father’s death, is ’t writ in your revenge,
That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend and foe,
Winner and loser?
|
CLAUDIUS Good Laertes,
If you desire to know the certainty
Of your dear father’s death, is ’t writ in your revenge,
That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend and foe,
Winner and loser?
|
|
LAERTES None but his enemies.
|
LAERTES None but his enemies.
|
|
CLAUDIUS 120 Will you know them then?
|
CLAUDIUS Will you know them then?
|
|
LAERTES To his good friends thus wide I’ll ope my arms
And, like the kind life-rendering pelican,
Repast them with my blood.
|
LAERTES To his good friends thus wide I’ll ope my arms
And, like the kind life-rendering pelican,
Repast them with my blood.
|
|
CLAUDIUS Why, now you speak
Like a good child and a true gentleman.
125 That I am guiltless of your father’s death
And am most sensible in grief for it,
It shall as level to your judgment pierce
As day does to your eye.
|
CLAUDIUS Why, now you speak
Like a good child and a true gentleman.
That I am guiltless of your father’s death
And am most sensible in grief for it,
It shall as level to your judgment pierce
As day does to your eye.
|
|
Noise within: “Let her come in!”
|
Noise within: “Let her come in!”
|
|
LAERTES How now? What noise is that?
|
LAERTES How now? What noise is that?
|
|
Enter OPHELIA
|
Enter OPHELIA
|
|
130 O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt,
Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight,
Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May,
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
Should be as mortal as an old man’s life?
Nature is fine in love, and where ’tis fine,
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.
|
O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt,
Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight,
Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May,
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
Should be as mortal as an old man’s life?
Nature is fine in love, and where ’tis fine,
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.
|
|
OPHELIA They bore him barefaced on the bier,
Hey, non nonny, nonny, hey, nonny,
And in his grave rained many a tear.
Fare you well, my dove.
|
OPHELIA They bore him barefaced on the bier,
Hey, non nonny, nonny, hey, nonny,
And in his grave rained many a tear.
Fare you well, my dove.
|
|
LAERTES Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move thus.
|
LAERTES Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move thus.
|
|
OPHELIA You must sing A-down a-down—And you, Call him a- down-a—Oh, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward that stole his master’s daughter.
|
OPHELIA You must sing A-down a-down—And you, Call him a- down-a—Oh, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward that stole his master’s daughter.
|
|
LAERTES This nothing’s more than matter.
|
LAERTES This nothing’s more than matter.
|
|
OPHELIA There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember. And there is pansies, that’s for thoughts.
|
OPHELIA There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember. And there is pansies, that’s for thoughts.
|
|
LAERTES A document in madness. Thoughts and remembrance fitted.
|
LAERTES A document in madness. Thoughts and remembrance fitted.
|
|
OPHELIA There’s fennel for you, and columbines.—There’s rue for you, and here’s some for me. We may call it “herb of grace” o' Sundays.—Oh, you must wear your rue with a difference.—There’s a daisy. I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died. They say he made a good end (sings) For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy—
|
OPHELIA There’s fennel for you, and columbines.—There’s rue for you, and here’s some for me. We may call it “herb of grace” o' Sundays.—Oh, you must wear your rue with a difference.—There’s a daisy. I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died. They say he made a good end (sings) For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy—
|
|
LAERTES Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
She turns to favor and to prettiness.
|
LAERTES Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
She turns to favor and to prettiness.
|
|
OPHELIA And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead,
Go to thy deathbed.
He never will come again.
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll.
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away moan,
God ha' mercy on his soul.—
And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye.
|
OPHELIA And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead,
Go to thy deathbed.
He never will come again.
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll.
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away moan,
God ha' mercy on his soul.—
And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye.
|
|
Exit OPHELIA
|
Exit OPHELIA
|
|
LAERTES Do you see this, O God?
|
LAERTES Do you see this, O God?
|
|
CLAUDIUS Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
165 Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will.
And they shall hear and judge ’twixt you and me.
If by direct or by collateral hand
They find us touched, we will our kingdom give,
Our crown, our life, and all that we can ours,
170 To you in satisfaction. But if not,
Be you content to lend your patience to us,
And we shall jointly labor with your soul
To give it due content.
|
CLAUDIUS Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will.
And they shall hear and judge ’twixt you and me.
If by direct or by collateral hand
They find us touched, we will our kingdom give,
Our crown, our life, and all that we can ours,
To you in satisfaction. But if not,
Be you content to lend your patience to us,
And we shall jointly labor with your soul
To give it due content.
|
|
LAERTES Let this be so.
His means of death, his obscure funeral—
175 No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,
No noble rite nor formal ostentation—
Cry to be heard as ’twere from heaven to earth,
That I must call ’t in question.
|
LAERTES Let this be so.
His means of death, his obscure funeral—
No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,
No noble rite nor formal ostentation—
Cry to be heard as ’twere from heaven to earth,
That I must call ’t in question.
|
|
CLAUDIUS So you shall.
And where the offense is, let the great ax fall.
180 I pray you, go with me.
|
CLAUDIUS So you shall.
And where the offense is, let the great ax fall.
I pray you, go with me.
|
|
Exeunt
|
Exeunt
|
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