The Tragedie of Hamlet, Prince of DenmarkeII

Give him his money, and these notes Reynaldo.

I will my lord.

You shall do maruels wisely: good Reynaldo,

Before you visit him you make inquiry

865 Of his behaviour.

My lord, I did intend it.

Polon. Marry, well said;

Very well said. Look you sir,

Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris;

870 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,

875 Take you as ’twere some distant knowledge of him.

And thus I know his father and his friends,

And in part him. Do you mark this Reynaldo?

I, very well my lord.

And in part him, but you may say not well;

880 But if’t be he I mean, he's very wild;

Addicted so and so; and there put on him

What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank,

As may dishonour him; take need of that:

But sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips,

885 As are companions noted and most known

To youth and liberty.

As gaming my lord.

I, or drinking, fencing. swearing,

Quarrelling, drabbing. You may go so far.

890 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,

895 That they may seem the taints of liberty;

The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind,

A savageness in unreclaimèd blood of general assault.

But my good lord.

Wherefore should you do this?

900 I my lord, I would know that.

Marry sir, here’s my drift,

And I believe it is a fetch of warrant:

You laying these slight sullies on my son,

As ’twere a thing a little soiled i’th working:

905 Mark you your party in converse; him you would (sound,

Having ever seen. In the prenominate crimes,

The youth you breathe of guilty, be assured

He closes with you in this consequence:

Good sir, or so, or friend, or gentleman.

910 According to the phrase and the addition,

Of man and country.

Very good my lord.

And then sir does he this?

He does: what was I about to say?

915 I was about to say something: where did I leave?

At closes in the consequence:

At friend, or so, and gentleman.

At closes in the consequence, I marry,

He closes with you thus. I know the gentleman,

920 I saw him yesterday, or t’other day;

Or then or then, with such and such; and as you say,

There was he gaming, there o’ertook in’s rouse,

There falling out at tennis; or perchance,

I saw him enter such a house of saile;

925 Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth. See you now;

Your bait of falsehood, takes this cape of truth;

And thus do we of wisdom and of reach

With windlasses, and with assays of bias,

By indirections find directions out:

930 So by my former lecture and advice

Shall you my son; you have me, have you not?

My lord I have.

God buy you; fare you well.

Good my lord.

935 Observe his inclination in yourself.

I shall my lord.

And let him ply his music.

Well, my lord.

Farewell:

940 How now Ophelia, what’s the matter?

Alas my lord, I have been so affrighted.

With what, in the name of heaven?

My lord, as I was sewing in my chamber,

Lord Hamlet with his doublet all unbraced,

945 No hat upon his head, his stockings fouled,

Ungartered, and down gyvèd to his ankle,

Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other,

And with a look so piteous in purport,

As if he had been loosèd out of hell,

950 To speak of horrors: he comes before me.

Mad for thy love?

My lord, I do not know: but truly I do fear it.

What said he?

He took me by the wrist, and held me hard;

955 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:

960 And thrice his head thus waving up and down;

He raised a sigh, so piteous and profound,

That it did seem to shatter all his bulk,

And end his being. That done, he lets me go,

And with his head over his shoulders turned,

965 He seemed to find his way without his eyes,

For out o’ doors he went without their help;

And to the last, bended their light on me.

Go with me, I will go seek the King,

This is the very ecstasy of love,

970 Whose violent property fordoes itself,

And leads the will to desperate undertakings,

As oft as any passion under heaven,

That does afflict our natures. I am sorry,

What have you given him any hard words of late?

975 No my good lord: but as you did command,

I did repel his letters, and denied

His access to me.

That hath made him mad.

I am sorry that with better speed and judgment

980 I had not quoted him. I fear he did but trifle,

And meant to wrack thee: but beshrew my jealousy:

It seems it is as proper to our age,

To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions,

As it is common for the younger sort

985 To lack discretion. Come, go we to the King,

This must be known, which being kept close might move

More grief to hide, than hate to utter love.

Welcome dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

Moreover, that we much did long to see you,

990 The need we have to use you, did provoke

Our hasty sending. Something have you heard

Of Hamlet’s transformation: so I call it,

Since not th’exterior, nor the inward man

Resembles that it was. What it should be

995 More than his father’s death, that thus hath put him

So much from th’understanding of himself,

I cannot deem of. I entreat you both,

That being of so young days brought up with him:

And since so neighbour’d to his youth, and humour,

1000 That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court

Some little time: so by your companies

To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather

So much as from occasions you may glean,

That opened lies within our remedy.

1005 Good gentlemen, he hath much talked of you,

And sure I am, two men there are not living,

To whom he more adheres. If it will please you

To show us so much gentry, and good will,

As to expend your time with us awhile,

1010 For the supply and profit of our hope,

Your visitation shall receive such thanks

As fits a king’s remembrance.

Both your majesties

Might by the sovereign power you have of us,

1015 Put your dread pleasures, more into command

Than to entreaty.

We both obey,

And here give up ourselves, in the full bent,

To lay our services freely at your feet,

1020 To be commanded.

Thanks Rosencrantz, and gentle Guildenstern.

Thanks Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz.

And I beseech you instantly to visit

My too much changèd son.

1025 Go some of ye,

And bring the gentlemen where Hamlet is.

Heavens make our presence and our practices

Pleasant and helpful to him.

Amen.

1030 Th’Ambassadors from Norway,[…]my good lord,

Are joyfully returned.

Thou still hast been the father of good news.

Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege,

I hold my duty, as I hold my soul,

1035 Both to my God, one to my gracious king:

And I do think, or else this brain of mine

Hunts not the trail of policy, so sure

As I have used to do: that I have found

The very cause of Hamlet’s lunacy.

1040 Oh speak of that, that I do long to hear.

Give first admittance to th’Ambassadors,

My news shall be the News to that great feast.

Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in.

He tells me my sweet Queen, that he hath found

1045 The head and source of all your son’s distemper.

I doubt it is no other, but the main,

His father’s death, and our o’erhasty marriage.

Well, we shall sift him. Welcome good friends:

Say Voltemand, what from our brother Norway?

1050 Most fair return of greetings, and desires.

Upon our first, he sent out to suppress

His nephew’s levies, which to him appeared

To be a preparation ’gainst the Polack:

But better looked into, he truly found

1055 It was against your highness, whereat grieved,

That so his sickness, age, and impotence

Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests

On Fortinbras, which he (in brief) obeys,

Receives rebuke from Norway: and in fine,

1060 Makes vow before his uncle, never more

To give th’assay of arms against your majesty.

Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,

Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee,

And his commission to employ those soldiers

1065 So levied as before, against the Polack:

With an entreaty herein further shown,

That it might please you to give quiet pass

Through your dominions, for his enterprise,

On such regards of safety and allowance,

1070 As therein are set down.

It likes us well:

And at our more considered time we'll read,

Answer, and think upon this business.

Meantime we thank you, for your well-took labour.

1075 Go to your rest, at night we'll feast together.

Most welcome home.

This business is very well ended.

My liege, and madam, to expostulate

What majesty should be, what duty is,

1080 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:

1085 Mad call I it; for to define true madness,

What is’t, but to be nothing else but mad.

But let that go.

More matter, with less art.

Madam[…] I swear I use no art at all:

1090 That he is mad, ’tis true: ’Tis true ’tis pity,

And pity it is true: a foolish figure,

But farewell it: for I will use no art.

Mad let us grant him then: and now remains

That we find out the cause of this effect,

1095 Or rather say, the cause of this defect;

For this effect defective, comes by cause,

Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. Perpend,

I have a daughter: have, whilst she is mine,

Who in her duty and obedience, mark,

1100 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 these in her excellent white bosom, these.

Came this from Hamlet to her.

Good madam stay awhile, I will be faithful.

Doubt thou, the stars are fire,

Doubt, that the sun doth move:

1110 Doubt truth to be a liar,

But never doubt, I love.

O 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.

1115 Thine evermore most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him, Hamlet.

This in obedience hath my daughter showed me:

And more above hath his soliciting,

As they fell out by time, by means, and place,

1120 All given to mine ear.

But how hath she received his love?

What do you think of me?

As of a man, faithful and honourable.

I would fain prove so. But what might you think?

1125 When I had seen this hot love on the wing,

As I perceived it, I must tell you that

Before my daughter told me, what might you

Or my dear majesty your queen here, think,

If I had played the desk or table-book,

1130 Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb,

Or 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,

1135 This must not be: and then, I precepts gave her,

That she should lock herself from his resort,

Admit no messengers, receive no tokens:

Which done, she took the fruits of my advice,

And he repulsèd. A short tale to make,

1140 Fell into a sadness, then into a fast,

Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness,

Thence to a lightness, and by this declension

Into the madness whereon now he raves,

And all we wail for.

1145 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,

When it proved otherwise?

1150 Not that I know.

Take this from this; if this be otherwise,

If circumstances lead me, I will find

Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed

Within the center.

1155 How may we try it further?

You know sometimes

He walks four hours together, here

In the lobby.

So he has indeed.

1160 At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him,

Be you and I behind an arras then,

Mark the encounter: If he love her not,

And be not from his reason fallen thereon;

Let me be no assistant for a state,

1165 And keep a farm and carters.

We will try it.

But look where sadly the poor wretch

Comes reading.

Away I do beseech you, both away,

1170 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, excellent well: you're a fishmonger.

1175 Not I my lord.

Then I would you were so honest a man.

Honest, my lord?

I sir, to be honest as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of two thousand.

1180 That’s very true, my lord.

For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a good kissing carrion ⸺ Have you a daughter?

I have my lord.

1185 Let her not walk i’th sun; Conception is a blessing, but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend look to't.

How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter: yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a fishmonger: he is far gone, far gone: and truly in my youth, I suffered much extremity for love: very near this. I'll speak to him again. What do you read my lord?

Words, words, words.

What is the matter, my lord?

1195 Between who?

I mean the matter you mean, my lord.

Slanders sir: for the satirical slave says here, that old men have gray beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber, or Plum-tree gum: and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with weak hams. All which sir, though I most powerfully, and potently believe; yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down: for you yourself sir, should be old as I am, if like a crab you could go backward.

Though this be madness,

Yet there is method in’t: will you walk

Out of the air my lord?

Into my grave?

1210 Indeed that is out o’th’Air:

How pregnant (sometimes) his replies are?

A happiness,

That often madness hits on,

Which reason and sanity could not

1215 So prosperously be delivered of.

I will leave him,

And suddenly contrive the means of meeting

Between him, and my daughter.

My honourable lord, I will most humbly

1220 Take my leave of you.

You cannot sir take from me anything, that I will more willingly part withal, except my life, my life.

Fare you well my lord.

1225 These tedious old fools.

You go to seek my Lord Hamlet; there he is.

God save you sir.

Mine honoured lord?

1230 My most dear lord?

My excellent good friends? How dost thou Guildenstern? Oh, Rosencrantz ; good lads: how do ye both?

As the indifferent children of the earth.

1235 Happy, in that we are not over-happy: on Fortune’s cap, we are not the very button.

Nor the soles of her shoe?

Neither my lord.

Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favour?

Faith, her privates, we.

In the secret parts of Fortune? Oh, most true: she is a strumpet. What’s the news?

None my lord; but that the world’s grown honest.

Then is doomsday near: But your news is not true. Let me question more in particular: what have you my good friends, deserved at the hands of Fortune, that she sends you to prison hither?

1250 Prison, my lord?

Denmark’s a prison.

Then is the world one.

A goodly one, in which there are many confines, wards and dungeons; Denmark being one o’th’ worst.

We think not so my lord.

Why then ’tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me it is a prison.

1260 Why then your ambition makes it one: ’tis too narrow for your mind.

O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space; were it not that I have bad dreams.

1265 Which dreams indeed are ambition: for the very substance of the ambitious, is merely the shadow of a dream.

A dream itself is but a shadow.

Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality, that it is but a shadow’s shadow.

Then are our beggars bodies; and our monarchs and outstretched heroes the beggars shadows: shall we to th’Court: for, by my fay I cannot reason?

1275 We'll wait upon you.

No such matter. I will not sort you with the rest of my servants: for to speak to you like an honest man: I am most dreadfully attended; but in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore?

1280 To visit you my lord, no other occasion.

Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you: and sure dear friends my thanks are too dear a halfpenny; were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, deal justly with me: come, come; nay speak.

What should we say my lord?

Why anything. But to the purpose; you were sent for; and there is a kind confession in your looks; which your modesties have not craft enough to color, I know the good King & Queen have sent for you.

To what end my lord?

That you must teach me: but let me conjure you by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear, a better proposer could charge you withal; be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for or no.

What say you?

Nay then I have an eye of you; if you love me hold not off.

My lord, we were sent for.

I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery of your secrecy to the King and Queen: moult no feather, I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercise; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition; that this goodly frame the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging, this majestical roof, fretted with golden fire: why, it appears no other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason? How infinite in faculty? In form and moving how express and admirable? In action, how like an angel? In apprehension, how like a god? The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals; and yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me; no, nor woman neither; though by your smiling you seem to say so.

1320 My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.

Why did you laugh, when I said, man delights not me?

To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you: we coted them on the way, and hither are they coming to offer you service.

He that plays the King shall be welcome; his majesty shall have tribute of me: the adventurous Knight shall use his foil and target: the Lover shall not sigh gratis, the humorous man shall end his part in peace: the Clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickled o’th’ sear: and the Lady shall say her mind freely; or the blank verse shall halt for’t: what players are they?

Even those you were wont to take delight in the tragedians of the city.

How chances it they travel? Their residence both in reputation and profit was better both ways.

I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation?

Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? Are they so followed?

1345 No indeed, they are not.

How comes it? Do they grow rusty?

Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace; But there is sir an eyrie of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top of question; and are most tyrannically clapped for’t: these are now the fashion, and so berattle the common stages (so they call them) that many wearing rapiers, are afraid of goose-quills, and dare scarce come thither.

What are they children? Who maintains ’em? How are they escoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing? Will they not say afterwards if they should grow themselves to common players (as it is like most if their means are no[…] better) their writers do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their own succession.

Faith there has been much to do on both sides: and the nation holds it no sin, to tarre them to controversy. There was for a while, no money bid for argument, unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question.

Is’t possible?

Oh there has been much throwing about of brains.

Do the boys carry it away?

1370 I that they do my lord, Hercules & his load too.

It is not strange: for mine uncle is King of Denmark, and those that would make mows at him while my father lived; give twenty, forty,, an hundred Ducats apiece, for his picture in little. There is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out.

There are the players.

Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore: your hands, come: The appurtenance of welcome, is fashion and ceremony. Let me comply with you in the garb, lest my extent to the players (which I tell you must show fairly outward) should more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome: but my uncle father, and aunt mother are deceived.

1385 In what my dear lord?

I am but mad north, north-west: when the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.

Well be with you gentlemen.

Hark you Guildenstern, and you too: at each ear a hearer: that great baby you see there, is not yet out of his swathing clouts.

Happily he’s the second time come to them: for they say, an old man is twice a child.

I will prophesy. He comes to tell me of the players. Mark it, you say right sir: for a Monday morning ’twas so indeed.

My lord, I have news to tell you.

My lord, I have news to tell you. When Roscius an actor in Rome—

1400 The actors are come hither my lord.

Buzz, buzz.

Upon mine honor.

Then can each actor on his ass⸺

The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral: pastoral-comical- historical-pastoral: tragical-historical: tragical- comical-historical-pastoral: scene individable, or poem unlimited. Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light, for the law of writ, and the liberty. These are the only men.

O Jephthah Judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou?

What a treasure had he, my lord?

Why one fair daughter, and no more,

1415 The which he lovèd passing well.

Still on my daughter.

Am I not i’th right old Jephthah?

If you call me Jephthah my lord, I have a daughter that I love passing well.

1420 Nay that follows not.

What follows then, my lord?

Why, As by lot, God wot: and then you know, It came to pass, as most like it was: The first row of the pious chanson will show you more. For look where my abridgements come.

You're welcome masters, welcome all. I am glad to see thee well: Welcome good friends. O my old friend? Thy face is valiant since I saw thee last: Com’st thou to beard me in Denmark? What, my young lady and mistress? By’r Lady your ladyship is nearer heaven than when I saw you last, by the altitude of a chopine. Pray God your voice like a piece of uncurrent gold be not cracked within the ring. Masters, you are all welcome: we'll e'en to’t like French falconers, fly at anything we see: we'll have a speech straight. Come give us a taste of your quality: come, a passionate speech.

What speech, my lord?

I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never acted: or if it was, not above once, for the play I remember pleased not the million, ’twas caviary to the general: but it was (as I received it and others, whose judgment in such matters, cried in the top of mine) an excellent play; well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty, as cunning. I remember one said, there was no sallets in the lines, to make the matter savoury; nor no matter in the phrase, that might indict the author of affection, but called it an honest method. One chief speech in it, I chiefly loved, ’twas Aeneas tale to Dido, and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priam’s slaughter. If it live in your memory, begin at this line, let me see, let me see: The rugged Pyrrhus like th’Hyrcanian beast. It is not so: it begins with Pyrrhus

The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms

Black as his purpose, did the night resemble

1455 When he lay couchèd in the ominous horse,

Hath now this dread and black complexion smeared

With heraldry more dismal: Head to foot

Now is he total gules, horridly tricked

With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,

1460 Baked and empasted with the parching streets,

That lend a tyrannous, and damnèd light

To their vile murders, roasted in wrath and fire,

And thus o’ersizèd with coagulate gore,

With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus

1465 Old grandsire Priam seeks.

Fore God, my Lord, well spoken, with good accent, and good discretion.

Anon he finds him,

Striking too short at Greeks. His antic sword,

1470 Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls

Repugnant to command: unequal match,

Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide:

But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword,

Th'unnervèd father falls. Then senseless Ilium,

1475 Seeming to feel his blow, with flaming top

Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash

Takes prisoner Pyrrhus ear. For lo, his sword

Which was declining on the milky head

Of reverend Priam, seemed i’th air to stick:

1480 So as a painted tyrant Pyrrhus stood,

And like a neutral to his will and matter, did nothing.

But as we often see against some storm,

A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,

The bold winds speechless, and the orb below

1485 As hush as death: anon the dreadful thunder

Doth rend the region. So after Pyrrhus pause,

A rousèd vengeance sets him new a-work,

And never did the Cyclops hammers fall

On Mars his armours, forged for proof eterne,

1490 With less remorse than Pyrrhus bleeding sword

Now falls on Priam.

Out, out, thou strumpet-Fortune, all you gods,

In general synod take away her power:

Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,

1495 And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,

As low as to the fiends.

This is too long.

It shall to th’ barber’s, with your beard. Prithee say on: He’s for a jig, or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps. Say on; come to Hecuba.

But who, o who, had seen the ennobled queen.

The ennobled queen?

That’s good: Ennobled queen is good.

Run barefoot up and down,

1505 Threat’ning the flame

With bisson rheum: a clout about that head,

Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe

About her lank and all o’erteemèd loins,

A blanket in th’Alarum of fear caught up.

1510 Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steeped,

’Gainst Fortune’s state, would treason have pronounced?

But if the gods themselves did see her then,

When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport

In mincing with his sword her husband’s limbs,

1515 The instant burst of clamour that she made

(Unless things mortal move them not at all)

Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,

And passion in the gods.

Look where he has not turned his colour, and has tears in’s eyes. Pray you no more.

’Tis well, I'll have thee speak out the rest, soon. Good my lord, will you see the players well bestowed. Do ye hear, let them be well used: for they are the abstracts and brief chronicles of the time. After your death, you were better have a bad epitaph, than their ill report while you lived.

My lord, I will use them according to their desert.

God’s bodykins man, better. Use every man after his desert, and who should scape 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.

1535 Follow him friends: we'll hear a play tomorrow. Dost thou hear me old friend, can you play the murder of Gonzago?

I my lord.

We'll ha’t tomorrow night. You could for a need study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which I would set down, and insert in’t? Could ye not?

I my lord.

Very well. Follow that lord, and look you mock him not. My good friends, I'll leave you till night you are welcome to Elsinore?

Good my lord.

I so, God buy ye: Now I am alone.

Oh what a rogue and peasant slave am I?

Is it not monstrous that this player here,

1550 But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,

Could force his soul so to his whole conceit,

That from her working, all his visage warmed:

Tears in his eyes, distraction in’s aspect,

A broken voice, and his whole function suiting

1555 With forms, to his conceit? And all for nothing?

For Hecuba?

What’s Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,

That he should weep for her? What would he do,

Had he the motive and the cue for passion

1560 That I have? He would drown the stage with tears,

And cleave the general ear with horrid speech:

Make mad the guilty, and appal the free,

Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed,

The very faculty, of eyes and ears, Yet I,

1565 A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak

Like John a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,

And can say nothing: no, not for a king,

Upon whose property, and most dear life,

A damned defeat was made. Am I a coward?

1570 Who calls me villain? Breaks my pate across?

Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?

Tweaks me by’th’Nose? Gives me the lie i’th throat,

As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this?

Ha? Why I should take it: for it cannot be,

1575 But I am pigeon-livered, and lack gall

To make oppression bitter, or ere this,

I should have fatted all the region kites

With this slave’s offal, bloody: a bawdy villain,

Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!

1580 Oh vengeance!

Who? What an ass am I? I sure, this is most brave,

That I, the son of the dear murderèd,

Prompted to my revenge by heaven, and hell,

Must (like a whore) unpack my heart with words,

1585 And fall a cursing like a very drab,

A scullion? Fie upon’t: foh. About my brain.

I have heard, that guilty creatures sitting at a play,

Have by the very cunning of the scene,

Been struck so to the soul, that presently

1590 They have proclaimed their malefactions.

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak

With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players,

Play something like the murder of my father,

Before mine uncle. I'll observe his looks,

1595 I'll rent him to the quick: If he but blench

I know my course. The spirit that I have seen

May be the devil, and the devil hath power

T’assume a pleasing shape, yea and perhaps

Out of my weakness, and my melancholy,

1600 As he is very potent with such spirits,

Abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds

More relative than this: The play’s the thing,

Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King.