Lets make the biggest quote ever

Red Hot Thumbtack In The Eye · September 11, 2003

Start

Chuck Woolery · September 11, 2003

This concept intrigues me.

Ripper · September 11, 2003

What the hell is the GC...Game Cube?

Zack Malibu · September 11, 2003

GameCube > Ice Cube

Ripper · September 11, 2003

Iced Tea > Ice-T

Cran Da Maniac · September 11, 2003

Where's that old thread where we did this in?

September 11, 2003

I have no clue

Ripper · September 11, 2003

Wasn't that more by mistake though. Or in the middle of a flame war or something. It was purdy.

Sandman9000 · September 11, 2003

Huss.

Zack Malibu · September 11, 2003

Indeed

Spaceman Spiff · September 11, 2003

like looking down on a pyramid

Perfxion · September 11, 2003

what is the point of this?

CanadianChris · September 11, 2003

Who cares? It's fun.

September 11, 2003

Let's speed this up

The Tragedie of Hamlet

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Barnardo and Francisco two Centinels.

Barnardo. Who's there?

Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold

your selfe

Bar. Long liue the King

Fran. Barnardo?

Bar. He

Fran. You come most carefully vpon your houre

Bar. 'Tis now strook twelue, get thee to bed Francisco

Fran. For this releefe much thankes: 'Tis bitter cold,

And I am sicke at heart

Barn. Haue you had quiet Guard?

Fran. Not a Mouse stirring

Barn. Well, goodnight. If you do meet Horatio and

Marcellus, the Riuals of my Watch, bid them make hast.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Fran. I thinke I heare them. Stand: who's there?

Hor. Friends to this ground

Mar. And Leige-men to the Dane

Fran. Giue you good night

Mar. O farwel honest Soldier, who hath relieu'd you?

Fra. Barnardo ha's my place: giue you goodnight.

Exit Fran.

Mar. Holla Barnardo

Bar. Say, what is Horatio there?

Hor. A peece of him

Bar. Welcome Horatio, welcome good Marcellus

Mar. What, ha's this thing appear'd againe to night

Bar. I haue seene nothing

Mar. Horatio saies, 'tis but our Fantasie,

And will not let beleefe take hold of him

Touching this dreaded sight, twice seene of vs,

Therefore I haue intreated him along

With vs, to watch the minutes of this Night,

That if againe this Apparition come,

He may approue our eyes, and speake to it

Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appeare

Bar. Sit downe a-while,

And let vs once againe assaile your eares,

That are so fortified against our Story,

What we two Nights haue seene

Hor. Well, sit we downe,

And let vs heare Barnardo speake of this

Barn. Last night of all,

When yond same Starre that's Westward from the Pole

Had made his course t' illume that part of Heauen

Where now it burnes, Marcellus and my selfe,

The Bell then beating one

Mar. Peace, breake thee of:

Enter the Ghost.

Looke where it comes againe

Barn. In the same figure, like the King that's dead

Mar. Thou art a Scholler; speake to it Horatio

Barn. Lookes it not like the King? Marke it Horatio

Hora. Most like: It harrowes me with fear & wonder

Barn. It would be spoke too

Mar. Question it Horatio

Hor. What art thou that vsurp'st this time of night,

Together with that Faire and Warlike forme

In which the Maiesty of buried Denmarke

Did sometimes march: By Heauen I charge thee speake

Mar. It is offended

Barn. See, it stalkes away

Hor. Stay: speake; speake: I Charge thee, speake.

Exit the Ghost.

Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer

Barn. How now Horatio? You tremble & look pale:

Is not this something more then Fantasie?

What thinke you on't?

Hor. Before my God, I might not this beleeue

Without the sensible and true auouch

Of mine owne eyes

Mar. Is it not like the King?

Hor. As thou art to thy selfe,

Such was the very Armour he had on,

When th' Ambitious Norwey combatted:

So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle

He smot the sledded Pollax on the Ice.

'Tis strange

Mar. Thus twice before, and iust at this dead houre,

With Martiall stalke, hath he gone by our Watch

Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not:

But in the grosse and scope of my Opinion,

This boades some strange erruption to our State

Mar. Good now sit downe, & tell me he that knowes

Why this same strict and most obseruant Watch,

So nightly toyles the subiect of the Land,

And why such dayly Cast of Brazon Cannon

And Forraigne Mart for Implements of warre:

Why such impresse of Ship-wrights, whose sore Taske

Do's not diuide the Sunday from the weeke,

What might be toward, that this sweaty hast

Doth make the Night ioynt-Labourer with the day:

Who is't that can informe me?

Hor. That can I,

At least the whisper goes so: Our last King,

Whose Image euen but now appear'd to vs,

Was (as you know) by Fortinbras of Norway,

(Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate Pride)

Dar'd to the Combate. In which, our Valiant Hamlet,

(For so this side of our knowne world esteem'd him)

Did slay this Fortinbras: who by a Seal'd Compact,

Well ratified by Law, and Heraldrie,

Did forfeite (with his life) all those his Lands

Which he stood seiz'd on, to the Conqueror:

Against the which, a Moity competent

Was gaged by our King: which had return'd

To the Inheritance of Fortinbras,

Had he bin Vanquisher, as by the same Cou'nant

And carriage of the Article designe,

His fell to Hamlet. Now sir, young Fortinbras,

Of vnimproued Mettle, hot and full,

Hath in the skirts of Norway, heere and there,

Shark'd vp a List of Landlesse Resolutes,

For Foode and Diet, to some Enterprize

That hath a stomacke in't: which is no other

(And it doth well appeare vnto our State)

But to recouer of vs by strong hand

And termes Compulsatiue, those foresaid Lands

So by his Father lost: and this (I take it)

Is the maine Motiue of our Preparations,

The Sourse of this our Watch, and the cheefe head

Of this post-hast, and Romage in the Land.

Enter Ghost againe.

But soft, behold: Loe, where it comes againe:

Ile crosse it, though it blast me. Stay Illusion:

If thou hast any sound, or vse of Voyce,

Speake to me. If there be any good thing to be done,

That may to thee do ease, and grace to me; speak to me.

If thou art priuy to thy Countries Fate

(Which happily foreknowing may auoyd) Oh speake.

Or, if thou hast vp-hoorded in thy life

Extorted Treasure in the wombe of Earth,

(For which, they say, you Spirits oft walke in death)

Speake of it. Stay, and speake. Stop it Marcellus

Mar. Shall I strike at it with my Partizan?

Hor. Do, if it will not stand

Barn. 'Tis heere

Hor. 'Tis heere

Mar. 'Tis gone.

Exit Ghost.

We do it wrong, being so Maiesticall

To offer it the shew of Violence,

For it is as the Ayre, invulnerable,

And our vaine blowes, malicious Mockery

Barn. It was about to speake, when the Cocke crew

Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing

Vpon a fearfull Summons. I haue heard,

The Cocke that is the Trumpet to the day,

Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding Throate

Awake the God of Day: and at his warning,

Whether in Sea, or Fire, in Earth, or Ayre,

Th' extrauagant, and erring Spirit, hyes

To his Confine. And of the truth heerein,

This present Obiect made probation

Mar. It faded on the crowing of the Cocke.

Some sayes, that euer 'gainst that Season comes

Wherein our Sauiours Birch is celebrated,

The Bird of Dawning singeth all night long:

And then (they say) no Spirit can walke abroad,

The nights are wholsome, then no Planets strike,

No Faiery talkes, nor Witch hath power to Charme:

So hallow'd, and so gracious is the time

Hor. So haue I heard, and do in part beleeue it.

But looke, the Morne in Russet mantle clad,

Walkes o're the dew of yon high Easterne Hill,

Breake we our Watch vp, and by my aduice

Let vs impart what we haue seene to night

Vnto yong Hamlet. For vpon my life,

This Spirit dumbe to vs, will speake to him:

Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,

As needfull in our Loues, fitting our Duty?

Mar. Let do't I pray, and I this morning know

Where we shall finde him most conueniently.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Claudius King of Denmarke, Gertrude the Queene, Hamlet,

Polonius,

Laertes, and his Sister Ophelia, Lords Attendant.

King. Though yet of Hamlet our deere Brothers death

The memory be greene: and that it vs befitted

To beare our hearts in greefe, and our whole Kingdome

To be contracted in one brow of woe:

Yet so farre hath Discretion fought with Nature,

That we with wisest sorrow thinke on him,

Together with remembrance of our selues.

Therefore our sometimes Sister, now our Queene,

Th' imperiall Ioyntresse of this warlike State,

Haue we, as 'twere, with a defeated ioy,

With one Auspicious, and one Dropping eye,

With mirth in Funerall, and with Dirge in Marriage,

In equall Scale weighing Delight and Dole

Taken to Wife; nor haue we heerein barr'd

Your better Wisedomes, which haue freely gone

With this affaire along, for all our Thankes.

Now followes, that you know young Fortinbras,

Holding a weake supposall of our worth;

Or thinking by our late deere Brothers death,

Our State to be disioynt, and out of Frame,

Colleagued with the dreame of his Aduantage;

He hath not fayl'd to pester vs with Message,

Importing the surrender of those Lands

Lost by his Father: with all Bonds of Law

To our most valiant Brother. So much for him.

Enter Voltemand and Cornelius.

Now for our selfe, and for this time of meeting

Thus much the businesse is. We haue heere writ

To Norway, Vncle of young Fortinbras,

Who Impotent and Bedrid, scarsely heares

Of this his Nephewes purpose, to suppresse

His further gate heerein. In that the Leuies,

The Lists, and full proportions are all made

Out of his subiect: and we heere dispatch

You good Cornelius, and you Voltemand,

For bearing of this greeting to old Norway,

Giuing to you no further personall power

To businesse with the King, more then the scope

Of these dilated Articles allow:

Farewell, and let your hast commend your duty

Volt. In that, and all things, will we shew our duty

King. We doubt it nothing, heartily farewell.

Exit Voltemand and Cornelius.

And now Laertes, what's the newes with you?

You told vs of some suite. What is't Laertes?

You cannot speake of Reason to the Dane,

And loose your voyce. What would'st thou beg Laertes,

That shall not be my Offer, not thy Asking?

The Head is not more Natiue to the Heart,

The Hand more instrumentall to the Mouth,

Then is the Throne of Denmarke to thy Father.

What would'st thou haue Laertes?

Laer. Dread my Lord,

Your leaue and fauour to returne to France,

From whence, though willingly I came to Denmarke

To shew my duty in your Coronation,

Yet now I must confesse, that duty done,

My thoughts and wishes bend againe towards France,

And bow them to your gracious leaue and pardon

King. Haue you your Fathers leaue?

What sayes Pollonius?

Pol. He hath my Lord:

I do beseech you giue him leaue to go

King. Take thy faire houre Laertes, time be thine,

And thy best graces spend it at thy will:

But now my Cosin Hamlet, and my Sonne?

Ham. A little more then kin, and lesse then kinde

King. How is it that the Clouds still hang on you?

Ham. Not so my Lord, I am too much i'th' Sun

Queen. Good Hamlet cast thy nightly colour off,

And let thine eye looke like a Friend on Denmarke.

Do not for euer with thy veyled lids

Seeke for thy Noble Father in the dust;

Thou know'st 'tis common, all that liues must dye,

Passing through Nature, to Eternity

Ham. I Madam, it is common

Queen. If it be;

Why seemes it so particular with thee

Ham. Seemes Madam? Nay, it is: I know not Seemes:

'Tis not alone my Inky Cloake (good Mother)

Nor Customary suites of solemne Blacke,

Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,

No, nor the fruitfull Riuer in the Eye,

Nor the deiected hauiour of the Visage,

Together with all Formes, Moods, shewes of Griefe,

That can denote me truly. These indeed Seeme,

For they are actions that a man might play:

But I haue that Within, which passeth show;

These, but the Trappings, and the Suites of woe

King. 'Tis sweet and commendable

In your Nature Hamlet,

To giue these mourning duties to your Father:

But you must know, your Father lost a Father,

That Father lost, lost his, and the Suruiuer bound

In filiall Obligation, for some terme

To do obsequious Sorrow. But to perseuer

In obstinate Condolement, is a course

Of impious stubbornnesse. 'Tis vnmanly greefe,

It shewes a will most incorrect to Heauen,

A Heart vnfortified, a Minde impatient,

An Vnderstanding simple, and vnschool'd:

For, what we know must be, and is as common

As any the most vulgar thing to sence,

Why should we in our peeuish Opposition

Take it to heart? Fye, 'tis a fault to Heauen,

A fault against the Dead, a fault to Nature,

To Reason most absurd, whose common Theame

Is death of Fathers, and who still hath cried,

From the first Coarse, till he that dyed to day,

This must be so. We pray you throw to earth

This vnpreuayling woe, and thinke of vs

As of a Father; For let the world take note,

You are the most immediate to our Throne,

And with no lesse Nobility of Loue,

Then that which deerest Father beares his Sonne,

Do I impart towards you. For your intent

In going backe to Schoole in Wittenberg,

It is most retrograde to our desire:

And we beseech you, bend you to remaine

Heere in the cheere and comfort of our eye,

Our cheefest Courtier Cosin, and our Sonne

Qu. Let not thy Mother lose her Prayers Hamlet:

I prythee stay with vs, go not to Wittenberg

Ham. I shall in all my best

Obey you Madam

King. Why 'tis a louing, and a faire Reply,

Be as our selfe in Denmarke. Madam come,

This gentle and vnforc'd accord of Hamlet

Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof,

No iocond health that Denmarke drinkes to day,

But the great Cannon to the Clowds shall tell,

And the Kings Rouce, the Heauens shall bruite againe,

Respeaking earthly Thunder. Come away.

Exeunt.

Manet Hamlet.

Ham. Oh that this too too solid Flesh, would melt,

Thaw, and resolue it selfe into a Dew:

Or that the Euerlasting had not fixt

His Cannon 'gainst Selfe-slaughter. O God, O God!

How weary, stale, flat, and vnprofitable

Seemes to me all the vses of this world?

Fie on't? Oh fie, fie, 'tis an vnweeded Garden

That growes to Seed: Things rank, and grosse in Nature

Possesse it meerely. That it should come to this:

But two months dead: Nay, not so much; not two,

So excellent a King, that was to this

Hiperion to a Satyre: so louing to my Mother,

That he might not beteene the windes of heauen

Visit her face too roughly. Heauen and Earth

Must I remember: why she would hang on him,

As if encrease of Appetite had growne

By what is fed on; and yet within a month?

Let me not thinke on't: Frailty, thy name is woman.

A little Month, or ere those shooes were old,

With which she followed my poore Fathers body

Like Niobe, all teares. Why she, euen she.

(O Heauen! A beast that wants discourse of Reason

Would haue mourn'd longer) married with mine Vnkle,

My Fathers Brother: but no more like my Father,

Then I to Hercules. Within a Moneth?

Ere yet the salt of most vnrighteous Teares

Had left the flushing of her gauled eyes,

She married. O most wicked speed, to post

With such dexterity to Incestuous sheets:

It is not, nor it cannot come to good.

But breake my heart, for I must hold my tongue.

Enter Horatio, Barnardo, and Marcellus.

Hor. Haile to your Lordship

Ham. I am glad to see you well:

Horatio, or I do forget my selfe

Hor. The same my Lord,

And your poore Seruant euer

Ham. Sir my good friend,

Ile change that name with you:

And what make you from Wittenberg Horatio?

Marcellus

Mar. My good Lord

Ham. I am very glad to see you: good euen Sir.

But what in faith make you from Wittemberge?

Hor. A truant disposition, good my Lord

Ham. I would not haue your Enemy say so;

Nor shall you doe mine eare that violence,

To make it truster of your owne report

Against your selfe. I know you are no Truant:

But what is your affaire in Elsenour?

Wee'l teach you to drinke deepe, ere you depart

Hor. My Lord, I came to see your Fathers Funerall

Ham. I pray thee doe not mock me (fellow Student)

I thinke it was to see my Mothers Wedding

Hor. Indeed my Lord, it followed hard vpon

Ham. Thrift thrift Horatio: the Funerall Bakt-meats

Did coldly furnish forth the Marriage Tables;

Would I had met my dearest foe in heauen,

Ere I had euer seene that day Horatio.

My father, me thinkes I see my father

Hor. Oh where my Lord?

Ham. In my minds eye (Horatio)

Hor. I saw him once; he was a goodly King

Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all:

I shall not look vpon his like againe

Hor. My Lord, I thinke I saw him yesternight

Ham. Saw? Who?

Hor. My Lord, the King your Father

Ham. The King my Father?

Hor. Season your admiration for a while

With an attent eare; till I may deliuer

Vpon the witnesse of these Gentlemen,

This maruell to you

Ham. For Heauens loue let me heare

Hor. Two nights together, had these Gentlemen

(Marcellus and Barnardo) on their Watch

In the dead wast and middle of the night

Beene thus encountred. A figure like your Father,

Arm'd at all points exactly, Cap a Pe,

Appeares before them, and with sollemne march

Goes slow and stately: By them thrice he walkt,

By their opprest and feare-surprized eyes,

Within his Truncheons length; whilst they bestil'd

Almost to Ielly with the Act of feare,

Stand dumbe and speake not to him. This to me

In dreadfull secrecie impart they did,

And I with them the third Night kept the Watch,

Whereas they had deliuer'd both in time,

Forme of the thing; each word made true and good,

The Apparition comes. I knew your Father:

These hands are not more like

Ham. But where was this?

Mar. My Lord vpon the platforme where we watcht

Ham. Did you not speake to it?

Hor. My Lord, I did;

But answere made it none: yet once me thought

It lifted vp it head, and did addresse

It selfe to motion, like as it would speake:

But euen then, the Morning Cocke crew lowd;

And at the sound it shrunke in hast away,

And vanisht from our sight

Ham. Tis very strange

Hor. As I doe liue my honourd Lord 'tis true;

And we did thinke it writ downe in our duty

To let you know of it

Ham. Indeed, indeed Sirs; but this troubles me.

Hold you the watch to Night?

Both. We doe my Lord

Ham. Arm'd, say you?

Both. Arm'd, my Lord

Ham. From top to toe?

Both. My Lord, from head to foote

Ham. Then saw you not his face?

Hor. O yes, my Lord, he wore his Beauer vp

Ham. What, lookt he frowningly?

Hor. A countenance more in sorrow then in anger

Ham. Pale, or red?

Hor. Nay very pale

Ham. And fixt his eyes vpon you?

Hor. Most constantly

Ham. I would I had beene there

Hor. It would haue much amaz'd you

Ham. Very like, very like: staid it long?

Hor. While one with moderate hast might tell a hundred

All. Longer, longer

Hor. Not when I saw't

Ham. His Beard was grisly? no

Hor. It was, as I haue seene it in his life,

A Sable Siluer'd

Ham. Ile watch to Night; perchance 'twill wake againe

Hor. I warrant you it will

Ham. If it assume my noble Fathers person,

Ile speake to it, though Hell it selfe should gape

And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,

If you haue hitherto conceald this sight;

Let it bee treble in your silence still:

And whatsoeuer els shall hap to night,

Giue it an vnderstanding but no tongue;

I will requite your loues; so fare ye well:

Vpon the Platforme twixt eleuen and twelue,

Ile visit you

All. Our duty to your Honour.

Exeunt

Ham. Your loue, as mine to you: farewell.

My Fathers Spirit in Armes? All is not well:

I doubt some foule play: would the Night were come;

Till then sit still my soule; foule deeds will rise,

Though all the earth orewhelm them to mens eies.

Enter.

Scena Tertia

Enter Laertes and Ophelia.

Laer. My necessaries are imbark't; Farewell:

And Sister, as the Winds giue Benefit,

And Conuoy is assistant; doe not sleepe,

But let me heare from you

Ophel. Doe you doubt that?

Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his fauours,

Hold it a fashion and a toy in Bloude;

A Violet in the youth of Primy Nature;

Froward, not permanent; sweet not lasting

The suppliance of a minute? No more

Ophel. No more but so

Laer. Thinke it no more:

For nature cressant does not grow alone,

In thewes and Bulke: but as his Temple waxes,

The inward seruice of the Minde and Soule

Growes wide withall. Perhaps he loues you now,

And now no soyle nor cautell doth besmerch

The vertue of his feare: but you must feare

His greatnesse weigh'd, his will is not his owne;

For hee himselfe is subiect to his Birth:

Hee may not, as vnuallued persons doe,

Carue for himselfe; for, on his choyce depends

The sanctity and health of the whole State.

And therefore must his choyce be circumscrib'd

Vnto the voyce and yeelding of that Body,

Whereof he is the Head. Then if he sayes he loues you,

It fits your wisedome so farre to beleeue it;

As he in his peculiar Sect and force

May giue his saying deed: which is no further,

Then the maine voyce of Denmarke goes withall.

Then weight what losse your Honour may sustaine,

If with too credent eare you list his Songs;

Or lose your Heart; or your chast Treasure open

To his vnmastred importunity.

Feare it Ophelia, feare it my deare Sister,

And keepe within the reare of your Affection;

Out of the shot and danger of Desire.

The chariest Maid is Prodigall enough,

If she vnmaske her beauty to the Moone:

Vertue it selfe scapes not calumnious stroakes,

The Canker Galls, the Infants of the Spring

Too oft before the buttons be disclos'd,

And in the Morne and liquid dew of Youth,

Contagious blastments are most imminent.

Be wary then, best safety lies in feare;

Youth to it selfe rebels, though none else neere

Ophe. I shall th' effect of this good Lesson keepe,

As watchmen to my heart: but good my Brother

Doe not as some vngracious Pastors doe,

Shew me the steepe and thorny way to Heauen;

Whilst like a puft and recklesse Libertine

Himselfe, the Primrose path of dalliance treads,

And reaks not his owne reade

Laer. Oh, feare me not.

Enter Polonius.

I stay too long; but here my Father comes:

A double blessing is a double grace;

Occasion smiles vpon a second leaue

Polon. Yet heere Laertes? Aboord, aboord for shame,

The winde sits in the shoulder of your saile,

And you are staid for there: my blessing with you;

And these few Precepts in thy memory,

See thou Character. Giue thy thoughts no tongue,

Nor any vnproportion'd thoughts his Act:

Be thou familiar; but by no meanes vulgar:

The friends thou hast, and their adoption tride,

Grapple them to thy Soule, with hoopes of Steele:

But doe not dull thy palme, with entertainment

Of each vnhatch't, vnfledg'd Comrade. Beware

Of entrance to a quarrell: but being in

Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee.

Giue euery man thine eare; but few thy voyce:

Take each mans censure; but reserue thy iudgement:

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy;

But not exprest in fancie; rich, not gawdie:

For the Apparell oft proclaimes the man.

And they in France of the best ranck and station,

Are of a most select and generous cheff in that.

Neither a borrower, nor a lender be;

For lone oft loses both it selfe and friend:

And borrowing duls the edge of Husbandry.

This aboue all; to thine owne selfe 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

Laer. Most humbly doe I take my leaue, my Lord

Polon. The time inuites you, goe, your seruants tend

Laer. Farewell Ophelia, and remember well

What I haue said to you

Ophe. Tis in my memory lockt,

And you your selfe shall keepe the key of it

Laer. Farewell.

Exit Laer.

Polon. What ist Ophelia he hath said to you?

Ophe. So please you, somthing touching the L[ord]. Hamlet

Polon. Marry, well bethought:

Tis told me he hath very oft of late

Giuen priuate time to you; and you your selfe

Haue of your audience beene most free and bounteous.

If it be so, as so tis put on me;

And that in way of caution: I must tell you,

You doe not vnderstand your selfe so cleerely,

As it behoues my Daughter, and your Honour.

What is betweene you, giue me vp the truth?

Ophe. He hath my Lord of late, made many tenders

Of his affection to me

Polon. Affection, puh. You speake like a greene Girle,

Vnsifted in such perillous Circumstance.

Doe you beleeue his tenders, as you call them?

Ophe. I do not know, my Lord, what I should thinke

Polon. Marry Ile teach you; thinke your selfe a Baby,

That you haue tane his tenders for true pay,

Which are not starling. Tender your selfe more dearly;

Or not to crack the winde of the poore Phrase,

Roaming it thus, you'l tender me a foole

Ophe. My Lord, he hath importun'd me with loue,

In honourable fashion

Polon. I, fashion you may call it, go too, go too

Ophe. And hath giuen countenance to his speech,

My Lord, with all the vowes of Heauen

Polon. I, Springes to catch Woodcocks. I doe know

When the Bloud burnes, how Prodigall the Soule

Giues the tongue vowes: these blazes, Daughter,

Giuing more light then heate; extinct in both,

Euen in their promise, as it is a making;

You must not take for fire. For this time Daughter,

Be somewhat scanter of your Maiden presence;

Set your entreatments at a higher rate,

Then a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,

Beleeue so much in him, that he is young,

And with a larger tether may he walke,

Then may be giuen you. In few, Ophelia,

Doe not beleeue his vowes; for they are Broakers,

Not of the eye, which their Inuestments show:

But meere implorators of vnholy Sutes,

Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds,

The better to beguile. This is for all:

I would not, in plaine tearmes, from this time forth,

Haue you so slander any moment leisure,

As to giue words or talke with the Lord Hamlet:

Looke too't, I charge you; come your wayes

Ophe. I shall obey my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet, Horatio, Marcellus.

Ham. The Ayre bites shrewdly: is it very cold?

Hor. It is a nipping and an eager ayre

Ham. What hower now?

Hor. I thinke it lacks of twelue

Mar. No, it is strooke

Hor. Indeed I heard it not: then it drawes neere the season,

Wherein the Spirit held his wont to walke.

What does this meane my Lord?

Ham. The King doth wake to night, and takes his rouse,

Keepes wassels and the swaggering vpspring reeles,

And as he dreines his draughts of Renish downe,

The kettle Drum and Trumpet thus bray out

The triumph of his Pledge

Horat. Is it a custome?

Ham. I marry ist;

And to my mind, though I am natiue heere,

And to the manner borne: It is a Custome

More honour'd in the breach, then the obseruance.

Enter Ghost.

Hor. Looke my Lord, it comes

Ham. Angels and Ministers of Grace defend vs:

Be thou a Spirit of health, or Goblin damn'd,

Bring with thee ayres from Heauen, or blasts from Hell,

Be thy euents wicked or charitable,

Thou com'st in such a questionable shape

That I will speake to thee. Ile call thee Hamlet,

King, Father, Royall Dane: Oh, oh, answer me,

Let me not burst in Ignorance; but tell

Why thy Canoniz'd bones Hearsed in death,

Haue burst their cerments, why the Sepulcher

Wherein we saw thee quietly enurn'd,

Hath op'd his ponderous and Marble iawes,

To cast thee vp againe? What may this meane?

That thou dead Coarse againe in compleat steele,

Reuisits thus the glimpses of the Moone,

Making Night hidious? And we fooles of Nature,

So horridly to shake our disposition,

With thoughts beyond thee; reaches of our Soules,

Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we doe?

Ghost beckens Hamlet.

Hor. It beckons you to goe away with it,

As if it some impartment did desire

To you alone

Mar. Looke with what courteous action

It wafts you to a more remoued ground:

But doe not goe with it

Hor. No, by no meanes

Ham. It will not speake: then will I follow it

Hor. Doe not my Lord

Ham. Why, what should be the feare?

I doe not set my life at a pins fee;

And for my Soule, what can it doe to that?

Being a thing immortall as it selfe:

It waues me forth againe; Ile follow it

Hor. What if it tempt you toward the Floud my Lord?

Or to the dreadfull Sonnet of the Cliffe,

That beetles o're his base into the Sea,

And there assumes some other horrible forme,

Which might depriue your Soueraignty of Reason,

And draw you into madnesse thinke of it?

Ham. It wafts me still: goe on, Ile follow thee

Mar. You shall not goe my Lord

Ham. Hold off your hand

Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not goe

Ham. My fate cries out,

And makes each petty Artire in this body,

As hardy as the Nemian Lions nerue:

Still am I cal'd? Vnhand me Gentlemen:

By Heau'n, Ile make a Ghost of him that lets me:

I say away, goe on, Ile follow thee.

Exeunt. Ghost & Hamlet.

Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination

Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him

Hor. Haue after, to what issue will this come?

Mar. Something is rotten in the State of Denmarke

Hor. Heauen will direct it

Mar. Nay, let's follow him.

Exeunt.

Enter Ghost and Hamlet.

Ham. Where wilt thou lead me? speak; Ile go no further

Gho. Marke me

Ham. I will

Gho. My hower is almost come,

When I to sulphurous and tormenting Flames

Must render vp my selfe

Ham. Alas poore Ghost

Gho. Pitty me not, but lend thy serious hearing

To what I shall vnfold

Ham. Speake, I am bound to heare

Gho. So art thou to reuenge, when thou shalt heare

Ham. What?

Gho. I am thy Fathers Spirit,

Doom'd for a certaine terme to walke the night;

And for the day confin'd to fast in Fiers,

Till the foule crimes done in my dayes of Nature

Are burnt and purg'd away? But that I am forbid

To tell the secrets of my Prison-House;

I could a Tale vnfold, whose lightest word

Would harrow vp thy soule, freeze thy young blood,

Make thy two eyes like Starres, start from their Spheres,

Thy knotty and combined lockes to part,

And each particular haire to stand an end,

Like Quilles vpon the fretfull Porpentine:

But this eternall blason must not be

To eares of flesh and bloud; list Hamlet, oh list,

If thou didst euer thy deare Father loue

Ham. Oh Heauen!

Gho. Reuenge his foule and most vnnaturall Murther

Ham. Murther?

Ghost. Murther most foule, as in the best it is;

But this most foule, strange, and vnnaturall

Ham. Hast, hast me to know it,

That with wings as swift

As meditation, or the thoughts of Loue,

May sweepe to my Reuenge

Ghost. I finde thee apt,

And duller should'st thou be then the fat weede

That rots it selfe in ease, on Lethe Wharfe,

Would'st thou not stirre in this. Now Hamlet heare:

It's giuen out, that sleeping in mine Orchard,

A Serpent stung me: so the whole eare of Denmarke,

Is by a forged processe of my death

Rankly abus'd: But know thou Noble youth,

The Serpent that did sting thy Fathers life,

Now weares his Crowne

Ham. O my Propheticke soule: mine Vncle?

Ghost. I that incestuous, that adulterate Beast

With witchcraft of his wits, hath Traitorous guifts.

Oh wicked Wit, and Gifts, that haue the power

So to seduce? Won to this shamefull Lust

The will of my most seeming vertuous Queene:

Oh Hamlet, what a falling off was there,

From me, whose loue was of that dignity,

That it went hand in hand, euen with the Vow

I made to her in Marriage; and to decline

Vpon a wretch, whose Naturall gifts were poore

To those of mine. But Vertue, as it neuer wil be moued,

Though Lewdnesse court it in a shape of Heauen:

So Lust, though to a radiant Angell link'd,

Will sate it selfe in a Celestiall bed, & prey on Garbage.

But soft, me thinkes I sent the Mornings Ayre;

Briefe let me be: Sleeping within mine Orchard,

My custome alwayes in the afternoone;

Vpon my secure hower thy Vncle stole

With iuyce of cursed Hebenon in a Violl,

And in the Porches of mine eares did poure

The leaperous Distilment; whose effect

Holds such an enmity with bloud of Man,

That swift as Quick-siluer, it courses through

The naturall Gates and Allies of the body;

And with a sodaine vigour it doth posset

And curd, like Aygre droppings into Milke,

The thin and wholsome blood: so did it mine;

And a most instant Tetter bak'd about,

Most Lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust,

All my smooth Body.

Thus was I, sleeping, by a Brothers hand,

Of Life, of Crowne, and Queene at once dispatcht;

Cut off euen in the Blossomes of my Sinne,

Vnhouzzled, disappointed, vnnaneld,

No reckoning made, but sent to my account

With all my imperfections on my head;

Oh horrible Oh horrible, most horrible:

If thou hast nature in thee beare it not;

Let not the Royall Bed of Denmarke be

A Couch for Luxury and damned Incest.

But howsoeuer thou pursuest this Act,

Taint not thy mind; nor let thy Soule contriue

Against thy Mother ought; leaue her to heauen,

And to those Thornes that in her bosome lodge,

To pricke and sting her. Fare thee well at once;

The Glow-worme showes the Matine to be neere,

And gins to pale his vneffectuall Fire:

Adue, adue, Hamlet: remember me.

Enter.

Ham. Oh all you host of Heauen! Oh Earth; what els?

And shall I couple Hell? Oh fie: hold my heart;

And you my sinnewes, grow not instant Old;

But beare me stiffely vp: Remember thee?

I, thou poore Ghost, while memory holds a seate

In this distracted Globe: Remember thee?

Yea, from the Table of my Memory,

Ile wipe away all triuiall fond Records,

All sawes of Bookes, all formes, all presures past,

That youth and obseruation coppied there;

And thy Commandment all alone shall liue

Within the Booke and Volume of my Braine,

Vnmixt with baser matter; yes yes, by Heauen:

Oh most pernicious woman!

Oh Villaine, Villaine, smiling damned Villaine!

My Tables, my Tables; meet it is I set it downe,

That one may smile, and smile and be a Villaine;

At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmarke;

So Vnckle there you are: now to my word;

It is; Adue, Adue, Remember me: I haue sworn't

Hor. & Mar. within. My Lord, my Lord.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Mar. Lord Hamlet

Hor. Heauen secure him

Mar. So be it

Hor. Illo, ho, ho, my Lord

Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy; come bird, come

Mar. How ist my Noble Lord?

Hor. What newes, my Lord?

Ham. Oh wonderfull!

Hor. Good my Lord tell it

Ham. No you'l reueale it

Hor. Not I, my Lord, by Heauen

Mar. Nor I, my Lord

Ham. How say you then, would heart of man once think it?

But you'l be secret?

Both. I, by Heau'n, my Lord

Ham. There's nere a villaine dwelling in all Denmarke

But hee's an arrant knaue

Hor. There needs no Ghost my Lord, come from the

Graue, to tell vs this

Ham. Why right, you are i'th' right;

And so, without more circumstance at all,

I hold it fit that we shake hands, and part:

You, as your busines and desires shall point you:

For euery man ha's businesse and desire,

Such as it is: and for mine owne poore part,

Looke you, Ile goe pray

Hor. These are but wild and hurling words, my Lord

Ham. I'm sorry they offend you heartily:

Yes faith, heartily

Hor. There's no offence my Lord

Ham. Yes, by Saint Patricke, but there is my Lord,

And much offence too, touching this Vision heere:

It is an honest Ghost, that let me tell you:

For your desire to know what is betweene vs,

O'remaster't as you may. And now good friends,

As you are Friends, Schollers and Soldiers,

Giue me one poore request

Hor. What is't my Lord? we will

Ham. Neuer make known what you haue seen to night

Both. My Lord, we will not

Ham. Nay, but swear't

Hor. Infaith my Lord, not I

Mar. Nor I my Lord: in faith

Ham. Vpon my sword

Marcell. We haue sworne my Lord already

Ham. Indeed, vpon my sword, Indeed

Gho. Sweare.

Ghost cries vnder the Stage.

Ham. Ah ha boy, sayest thou so. Art thou there truepenny?

Come one you here this fellow in the selleredge

Consent to sweare

Hor. Propose the Oath my Lord

Ham. Neuer to speake of this that you haue seene.

Sweare by my sword

Gho. Sweare

Ham. Hic & vbique? Then wee'l shift for grownd,

Come hither Gentlemen,

And lay your hands againe vpon my sword,

Neuer to speake of this that you haue heard:

Sweare by my Sword

Gho. Sweare

Ham. Well said old Mole, can'st worke i'th' ground so fast?

A worthy Pioner, once more remoue good friends

Hor. Oh day and night: but this is wondrous strange

Ham. And therefore as a stranger giue it welcome.

There are more things in Heauen and Earth, Horatio,

Then are dream't of in our Philosophy. But come,

Here as before, neuer so helpe you mercy,

How strange or odde so ere I beare my selfe;

(As I perchance heereafter shall thinke meet

To put an Anticke disposition on:)

That you at such time seeing me, neuer shall

With Armes encombred thus, or thus, head shake;

Or by pronouncing of some doubtfull Phrase;

As well, we know, or we could and if we would,

Or if we list to speake; or there be and if there might,

Or such ambiguous giuing out to note,

That you know ought of me; this not to doe:

So grace and mercy at your most neede helpe you:

Sweare

Ghost. Sweare

Ham. Rest, rest perturbed Spirit: so Gentlemen,

With all my loue I doe commend me to you;

And what so poore a man as Hamlet is,

May doe t' expresse his loue and friending to you,

God willing shall not lacke: let vs goe in together,

And still your fingers on your lippes I pray,

The time is out of ioynt: Oh cursed spight,

That euer I was borne to set it right.

Nay, come let's goe together.

Exeunt.

Zack Malibu · September 11, 2003

You realize these need to be expertly timed as to not fuck up the flow, right.

Zack Malibu · September 11, 2003

And as soon as I say, Eagan goes and fucks it up.

Quote Fucker Upper.

CanadianChris · September 11, 2003

That should be Eagan's new custom title.

September 11, 2003

Actus Secundus.

Enter Polonius, and Reynoldo.

Polon. Giue him his money, and these notes Reynoldo

Reynol. I will my Lord

Polon. You shall doe maruels wisely: good Reynoldo,

Before you visite him you make inquiry

Of his behauiour

Reynol. My Lord, I did intend it

Polon. Marry, well said;

Very well said. Looke you Sir,

Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris;

And how, and who; what meanes; and where they keepe:

What company, at what expence: and finding

By this encompassement and drift of question,

That they doe know my sonne: Come you more neerer

Then your particular demands will touch it,

Take you as 'twere some distant knowledge of him,

And thus I know his father and his friends,

And in part him. Doe you marke this Reynoldo?

Reynol. I, very well my Lord

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

But if't be hee I meane, hees very wilde;

Addicted so and so; and there put on him

What forgeries you please; marry, none so ranke,

As may dishonour him; take heed of that:

But Sir, such wanton, wild, and vsuall slips,

As are Companions noted and most knowne

To youth and liberty

Reynol. As gaming my Lord

Polon. I, or drinking, fencing, swearing,

Quarelling, drabbing. You may goe so farre

Reynol. My Lord that would dishonour him

Polon. Faith no, as you may season it in the charge;

You must not put another scandall on him,

That hee is open to Incontinencie;

That's not my meaning: but breath his faults so quaintly,

That they may seeme the taints of liberty;

The flash and out-breake of a fiery minde,

A sauagenes in vnreclaim'd bloud of generall assault

Reynol. But my good Lord

Polon. Wherefore should you doe this?

Reynol. I my Lord, I would know that

Polon. Marry Sir, heere's my drift,

And I belieue it is a fetch of warrant:

You laying these slight sulleyes on my Sonne,

As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i'th' working:

Marke you your party in conuerse; him you would sound,

Hauing euer seene. In the prenominate crimes,

The youth you breath of guilty, be assur'd

He closes with you in this consequence:

Good sir, or so, or friend, or Gentleman.

According to the Phrase and the Addition,

Of man and Country

Reynol. Very good my Lord

Polon. And then Sir does he this?

He does: what was I about to say?

I was about say somthing: where did I leaue?

Reynol. At closes in the consequence:

At friend, or so, and Gentleman

Polon. At closes in the consequence, I marry,

He closes with you thus. I know the Gentleman,

I saw him yesterday, or tother day;

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

There was he gaming, there o'retooke in's Rouse,

There falling out at Tennis; or perchance,

I saw him enter such a house of saile;

Videlicet, a Brothell, or so forth. See you now;

Your bait of falshood, takes this Cape of truth;

And thus doe we of wisedome and of reach

With windlesses, and with assaies of Bias,

By indirections finde directions out:

So by my former Lecture and aduice

Shall you my Sonne; you haue me, haue you not?

Reynol. My Lord I haue

Polon. God buy you; fare you well

Reynol. Good my Lord

Polon. Obserue his inclination in your selfe

Reynol. I shall my Lord

Polon. And let him plye his Musicke

Reynol. Well, my Lord.

Enter.

Enter Ophelia.

Polon. Farewell:

How now Ophelia, what's the matter?

Ophe. Alas my Lord, I haue beene so affrighted

Polon. With what, in the name of Heauen?

Ophe. My Lord, as I was sowing in my Chamber,

Lord Hamlet with his doublet all vnbrac'd,

No hat vpon his head, his stockings foul'd,

Vngartred, and downe giued to his Anckle,

Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other,

And with a looke so pitious in purport,

As if he had been loosed out of hell,

To speake of horrors: he comes before me

Polon. Mad for thy Loue?

Ophe. My Lord, I doe not know: but truly I do feare it

Polon. What said he?

Ophe. He tooke me by the wrist, and held me hard;

Then goes he to the length of all his arme;

And with his other hand thus o're his brow,

He fals to such perusall of my face,

As he would draw it. Long staid he so,

At last, a little shaking of mine Arme:

And thrice his head thus wauing vp and downe;

He rais'd a sigh, so pittious and profound,

That it did seeme to shatter all his bulke,

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

And with his head ouer his shoulders turn'd,

He seem'd to finde his way without his eyes,

For out adores he went without their helpe;

And to the last, bended their light on me

Polon. Goe with me, I will goe seeke the King,

This is the very extasie of Loue,

Whose violent property foredoes it selfe,

And leads the will to desperate Vndertakings,

As oft as any passion vnder Heauen,

That does afflict our Natures. I am sorrie,

What haue you giuen him any hard words of late?

Ophe. No my good Lord: but as you did command,

I did repell his Letters, and deny'de

His accesse to me

Pol. That hath made him mad.

I am sorrie that with better speed and iudgement

I had not quoted him. I feare he did but trifle,

And meant to wracke thee: but beshrew my iealousie:

It seemes it is as proper to our Age,

To cast beyond our selues in our Opinions,

As it is common for the yonger sort

To lacke discretion. Come, go we to the King,

This must be knowne, being kept close might moue

More greefe to hide, then hate to vtter loue.

Exeunt.

Secunda.

Enter King, Queene, Rosincrane, and Guildensterne Cum alijs.

King. Welcome deere Rosincrance and Guildensterne.

Moreouer, that we much did long to see you,

The neede we haue to vse you, did prouoke

Our hastie sending. Something haue you heard

Of Hamlets transformation: so I call it,

Since not th' exterior, nor the inward man

Resembles that it was. What it should bee

More then his Fathers death, that thus hath put him

So much from th' vnderstanding of himselfe,

I cannot deeme of. I intreat you both,

That being of so young dayes brought vp with him:

And since so Neighbour'd to his youth, and humour,

That you vouchsafe your rest heere 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 gleane,

That open'd lies within our remedie

Qu. Good Gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you,

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

To whom he more adheres. If it will please you

To shew vs so much Gentrie, and good will,

As to expend your time with vs a-while,

For the supply and profit of our Hope,

Your Visitation shall receiue such thankes

As fits a Kings remembrance

Rosin. Both your Maiesties

Might by the Soueraigne power you haue of vs,

Put your dread pleasures, more into Command

Then to Entreatie

Guil. We both obey,

And here giue vp our selues, in the full bent,

To lay our Seruices freely at your feete,

To be commanded

King. Thankes Rosincrance, and gentle Guildensterne

Qu. Thankes Guildensterne and gentle Rosincrance.

And I beseech you instantly to visit

My too much changed Sonne.

Go some of ye,

And bring the Gentlemen where Hamlet is

Guil. Heauens make our presence and our practises

Pleasant and helpfull to him.

Enter.

Queene. Amen.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. Th' Ambassadors from Norwey, my good Lord,

Are ioyfully return'd

King. Thou still hast bin the father of good Newes

Pol. Haue I, my Lord? Assure you, my good Liege,

I hold my dutie, as I hold my Soule,

Both to my God, one to my gracious King:

And I do thinke, or else this braine of mine

Hunts not the traile of Policie, so sure

As I haue vs'd to do: that I haue found

The very cause of Hamlets Lunacie

King. Oh speake of that, that I do long to heare

Pol. Giue first admittance to th' Ambassadors,

My Newes shall be the Newes to that great Feast

King. Thy selfe do grace to them, and bring them in.

He tels me my sweet Queene, that he hath found

The head and sourse of all your Sonnes distemper

Qu. I doubt it is no other, but the maine,

His Fathers death, and our o're-hasty Marriage.

Enter Polonius, Voltumand, and Cornelius.

King. Well, we shall sift him. Welcome good Frends:

Say Voltumand, what from our Brother Norwey?

Volt. Most faire returne of Greetings, and Desires.

Vpon our first, he sent out to suppresse

His Nephewes Leuies, which to him appear'd

To be a preparation 'gainst the Poleak:

But better look'd into, he truly found

It was against your Highnesse, whereat greeued,

That so his Sicknesse, Age, and Impotence

Was falsely borne in hand, sends out Arrests

On Fortinbras, which he (in breefe) obeyes,

Receiues rebuke from Norwey: and in fine,

Makes Vow before his Vnkle, neuer more

To giue th' assay of Armes against your Maiestie.

Whereon old Norwey, ouercome with ioy,

Giues him three thousand Crownes in Annuall Fee,

And his Commission to imploy those Soldiers

So leuied as before, against the Poleak:

With an intreaty heerein further shewne,

That it might please you to giue quiet passe

Through your Dominions, for his Enterprize,

On such regards of safety and allowance,

As therein are set downe

King. It likes vs well:

And at our more consider'd time wee'l read,

Answer, and thinke vpon this Businesse.

Meane time we thanke you, for your well-tooke Labour.

Go to your rest, at night wee'l Feast together.

Most welcome home.

Exit Ambass.

Pol. This businesse is very well ended.

My Liege, and Madam, to expostulate

What Maiestie should be, what Dutie is,

Why day is day; night, night; and time is time,

Were nothing but to waste Night, Day, and Time.

Therefore, since Breuitie is the Soule of Wit,

And tediousnesse, the limbes and outward flourishes,

I will be breefe. Your Noble Sonne is mad:

Mad call I it; for to define true Madnesse,

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

But let that go

Qu. More matter, with lesse Art

Pol. Madam, I sweare I vse no Art at all:

That he is mad, 'tis true: 'Tis true 'tis pittie,

And pittie it is true: A foolish figure,

But farewell it: for I will vse no Art.

Mad let vs grant him then: and now remaines

That we finde out the cause of this effect,

Or rather say, the cause of this defect;

For this effect defectiue, comes by cause,

Thus it remaines, and the remainder thus. Perpend,

I haue a daughter: haue, whil'st she is mine,

Who in her Dutie and Obedience, marke,

Hath giuen me this: now gather, and surmise.

The Letter.

To the Celestiall, and my Soules Idoll, the most beautifed Ophelia.

That's an ill Phrase, a vilde Phrase, beautified is a vilde

Phrase: but you shall heare these in her excellent white

bosome, these

Qu. Came this from Hamlet to her

Pol. Good Madam stay awhile, I will be faithfull.

Doubt thou, the Starres are fire,

Doubt, that the Sunne doth moue:

Doubt Truth to be a Lier,

But neuer Doubt, I loue.

O deere Ophelia, I am ill at these Numbers: I haue not Art to

reckon my grones; but that I loue thee best, oh most Best beleeue

it. Adieu.

Thine euermore most deere Lady, whilst this

Machine is to him, Hamlet.

This in Obedience hath my daughter shew'd me:

And more aboue hath his soliciting,

As they fell out by Time, by Meanes, and Place,

All giuen to mine eare

King. But how hath she receiu'd his Loue?

Pol. What do you thinke of me?

King. As of a man, faithfull and Honourable

Pol. I wold faine proue so. But what might you think?

When I had seene this hot loue on the wing,

As I perceiued it, I must tell you that

Before my Daughter told me what might you

Or my deere Maiestie your Queene heere, think,

If I had playd the Deske or Table-booke,

Or giuen my heart a winking, mute and dumbe,

Or look'd vpon this Loue, with idle sight,

What might you thinke? No, I went round to worke,

And (my yong Mistris) thus I did bespeake

Lord Hamlet is a Prince out of thy Starre,

This must not be: and then, I Precepts gaue her,

That she should locke her selfe from his Resort,

Admit no Messengers, receiue no Tokens:

Which done, she tooke the Fruites of my Aduice,

And he repulsed. A short Tale to make,

Fell into a Sadnesse, then into a Fast,

Thence to a Watch, thence into a Weaknesse,

Thence to a Lightnesse, and by this declension

Into the Madnesse whereon now he raues,

And all we waile for

King. Do you thinke 'tis this?

Qu. It may be very likely

Pol. Hath there bene such a time, I'de fain know that,

That I haue possitiuely said, 'tis so,

When it prou'd otherwise?

King. Not that I know

Pol. Take this from this; if this be otherwise,

If Circumstances leade me, I will finde

Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeede

Within the Center

King. How may we try it further?

Pol. You know sometimes

He walkes foure houres together, heere

In the Lobby

Qu. So he ha's indeed

Pol. At such a time Ile loose my Daughter to him,

Be you and I behinde an Arras then,

Marke the encounter: If he loue her not,

And be not from his reason falne thereon;

Let me be no Assistant for a State,

And keepe a Farme and Carters

King. We will try it.

Enter Hamlet reading on a Booke.

Qu. But looke where sadly the poore wretch

Comes reading

Pol. Away I do beseech you, both away,

Ile boord him presently.

Exit King & Queen.

Oh giue me leaue. How does my good Lord Hamlet?

Ham. Well, God-a-mercy

Pol. Do you know me, my Lord?

Ham. Excellent, excellent well: y'are a Fishmonger

Pol. Not I my Lord

Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man

Pol. Honest, my Lord?

Ham. I sir, to be honest as this world goes, is to bee

one man pick'd out of two thousand

Pol. That's very true, my Lord

Ham. For if the Sun breed Magots in a dead dogge,

being a good kissing Carrion-

Haue you a daughter?

Pol. I haue my Lord

Ham. Let her not walke i'thSunne: Conception is a

blessing, but not as your daughter may conceiue. Friend

looke too't

Pol. 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 farre gone, farre gone: and truly in my youth,

I suffred much extreamity for loue: very neere this. Ile

speake to him againe. What do you read my Lord?

Ham. Words, words, words

Pol. What is the matter, my Lord?

Ham. Betweene who?

Pol. I meane the matter you meane, my Lord

Ham. Slanders Sir: for the Satyricall slaue saies here,

that old men haue gray Beards; that their faces are wrinkled;

their eyes purging thicke Amber, or Plum-Tree

Gumme: and that they haue a plentifull locke of Wit,

together with weake Hammes. All which Sir, though I

most powerfully, and potently beleeue; yet I holde it

not Honestie to haue it thus set downe: For you your

selfe Sir, should be old as I am, if like a Crab you could

go backward

Pol. Though this be madnesse,

Yet there is Method in't: will you walke

Out of the ayre my Lord?

Ham. Into my Graue?

Pol. Indeed that is out o'th' Ayre:

How pregnant (sometimes) his Replies are?

A happinesse,

That often Madnesse hits on,

Which Reason and Sanitie could not

So prosperously be deliuer'd of.

I will leaue him,

And sodainely contriue the meanes of meeting

Betweene him, and my daughter.

My Honourable Lord, I will most humbly

Take my leaue of you

Ham. You cannot Sir take from me any thing, that I

will more willingly part withall, except my life, my

life

Polon. Fare you well my Lord

Ham. These tedious old fooles

Polon. You goe to seeke my Lord Hamlet; there

hee is.

Enter Rosincran and Guildensterne.

Rosin. God saue you Sir

Guild. Mine honour'd Lord?

Rosin. My most deare Lord?

Ham. My excellent good friends? How do'st thou

Guildensterne? Oh, Rosincrane; good Lads: How doe ye

both?

Rosin. As the indifferent Children of the earth

Guild. Happy, in that we are not ouer-happy: on Fortunes

Cap, we are not the very Button

Ham. Nor the Soales of her Shoo?

Rosin. Neither my Lord

Ham. Then you liue about her waste, or in the middle

of her fauour?

Guil. Faith, her priuates, we

Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? Oh, most true:

she is a Strumpet. What's the newes?

Rosin. None my Lord; but that the World's growne

honest

Ham. Then is Doomesday neere: But your newes is

not true. Let me question more in particular: what haue

you my good friends, deserued at the hands of Fortune,

that she sends you to Prison hither?

Guil. Prison, my Lord?

Ham. Denmark's a Prison

Rosin. Then is the World one

Ham. A goodly one, in which there are many Confines,

Wards, and Dungeons; Denmarke being one o'th'

worst

Rosin. We thinke not so my Lord

Ham. 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

Rosin. Why then your Ambition makes it one: 'tis

too narrow for your minde

Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and

count my selfe a King of infinite space; were it not that

I haue bad dreames

Guil. Which dreames indeed are Ambition: for the

very substance of the Ambitious, is meerely the shadow

of a Dreame

Ham. A dreame it selfe is but a shadow

Rosin. Truely, and I hold Ambition of so ayry and

light a quality, that it is but a shadowes shadow

Ham. Then are our Beggers bodies; and our Monarchs

and out-stretcht Heroes the Beggers Shadowes:

shall wee to th' Court: for, by my fey I cannot reason?

Both. Wee'l wait vpon you

Ham. No such matter. I will not sort you with the

rest of my seruants: for to speake to you like an honest

man: I am most dreadfully attended; but in the beaten

way of friendship, What make you at Elsonower?

Rosin. To visit you my Lord, no other occasion

Ham. Begger that I am, I am euen poore in thankes;

but I thanke you: and sure deare friends my thanks

are too deare a halfepeny; were you not sent for? Is it

your owne inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come,

deale iustly with me: come, come; nay speake

Guil. What should we say my Lord?

Ham. Why any thing. But to the purpose; you were

sent for; and there is a kinde confession in your lookes;

which your modesties haue not craft enough to color,

I know the good King & Queene haue sent for you

Rosin. To what end my Lord?

Ham. That you must teach me: but let mee coniure

you by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of

our youth, by the Obligation of our euer-preserued loue,

and by what more deare, a better proposer could charge

you withall; be euen and direct with me, whether you

were sent for or no

Rosin. What say you?

Ham. Nay then I haue an eye of you: if you loue me

hold not off

Guil. My Lord, we were sent for

Ham. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation

preuent your discouery of your secricie to the King and

Queene: moult no feather, I haue of late, but wherefore

I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all custome of exercise;

and indeed, it goes so heauenly with my disposition;

that this goodly frame the Earth, seemes to me a sterrill

Promontory; this most excellent Canopy the Ayre,

look you, this braue ore-hanging, this Maiesticall Roofe,

fretted with golden fire: why, it appeares no other thing

to mee, then a foule and pestilent congregation of vapours.

What a piece of worke is a man! how Noble in

Reason? how infinite in faculty? in forme and mouing

how expresse and admirable? in Action, how like an Angel?

in apprehension, how like a God? the beauty of the

world, the Parragon 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 seeme

to say so

Rosin. My Lord, there was no such stuffe in my

thoughts

Ham. Why did you laugh, when I said, Man delights

not me?

Rosin. To thinke, my Lord, if you delight not in Man,

what Lenton entertainment the Players shall receiue

from you: wee coated them on the way, and hither are

they comming to offer you Seruice

Ham. He that playes the King shall be welcome; his

Maiesty shall haue Tribute of mee: the aduenturous

Knight shal vse his Foyle and Target: the Louer shall

not sigh gratis, the humorous man shall end his part in

peace: the Clowne shall make those laugh whose lungs

are tickled a'th' sere: and the Lady shall say her minde

freely; or the blanke Verse shall halt for't: what Players

are they?

Rosin. Euen those you were wont to take delight in

the Tragedians of the City

Ham. How chances it they trauaile? their residence

both in reputation and profit was better both

wayes

Rosin. I thinke their Inhibition comes by the meanes

of the late Innouation?

Ham. Doe they hold the same estimation they did

when I was in the City? Are they so follow'd?

Rosin. No indeed, they are not

Ham. How comes it? doe they grow rusty?

Rosin. Nay, their indeauour keepes in the wonted

pace; But there is Sir an ayrie of Children, little

Yases, that crye out on the top of question; and

are most tyrannically clap't for't: these are now the

fashion, and so be-ratled the common Stages (so they

call them) that many wearing Rapiers, are affraide of

Goose-quils, and dare scarse come thither

Ham. What are they Children? Who maintains 'em?

How are they escorted? Will they pursue the Quality no

longer then they can sing? Will they not say afterwards

if they should grow themselues to common Players (as

it is most like if their meanes are not better) their Writers

do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their

owne Succession

Rosin. Faith there ha's bene much to do on both sides:

and the Nation holds it no sinne, to tarre them to Controuersie.

There was for a while, no mony bid for argument,

vnlesse the Poet and the Player went to Cuffes in

the Question

Ham. Is't possible?

Guild. Oh there ha's beene much throwing about of

Braines

Ham. Do the Boyes carry it away?

Rosin. I that they do my Lord. Hercules & his load too

Ham. It is not strange: for mine Vnckle is King of

Denmarke, and those that would make mowes at him

while my Father liued; giue twenty, forty, an hundred

Ducates a peece, for his picture in Little. There is something

in this more then Naturall, if Philosophie could

finde it out.

Flourish for the Players.

Guil. There are the Players

Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcom to Elsonower: your

hands, come: The appurtenance of Welcome, is Fashion

and Ceremony. Let me comply with you in the Garbe,

lest my extent to the Players (which I tell you must shew

fairely outward) should more appeare like entertainment

then yours. You are welcome: but my Vnckle Father,

and Aunt Mother are deceiu'd

Guil. In what my deere Lord?

Ham. I am but mad North, North-West: when the

Winde is Southerly, I know a Hawke from a Handsaw.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. Well be with you Gentlemen

Ham. Hearke you Guildensterne, and you too: at each

eare a hearer: that great Baby you see there, is not yet

out of his swathing clouts

Rosin. Happily he's the second time come to them: for

they say, an old man is twice a childe

Ham. I will Prophesie. Hee comes to tell me of the

Players. Mark it, you say right Sir: for a Monday morning

'twas so indeed

Pol. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you

Ham. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you.

When Rossius an Actor in Rome-

Pol. The Actors are come hither my Lord

Ham. Buzze, buzze

Pol. Vpon mine Honor

Ham. Then can each Actor on his Asse-

Polon. The best Actors in the world, either for Tragedie,

Comedie, Historie, Pastorall:

Pastoricall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall:

Tragicall-Historicall: Tragicall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall:

Scene indiuidible: or Poem

vnlimited. Seneca cannot be too heauy, nor Plautus

too light, for the law of Writ, and the Liberty. These are

the onely men

Ham. O Iephta Iudge of Israel, what a Treasure had'st

thou?

Pol. What a Treasure had he, my Lord?

Ham. Why one faire Daughter, and no more,

The which he loued passing well

Pol. Still on my Daughter

Ham. Am I not i'th' right old Iephta?

Polon. If you call me Iephta my Lord, I haue a daughter

that I loue passing well

Ham. Nay that followes not

Polon. What followes then, my Lord?

Ha. Why, As by lot, God wot: and then you know, It

came to passe, as most like it was: The first rowe of the

Pons Chanson will shew you more. For looke where my

Abridgements come.

Enter foure or fiue Players.

Y'are welcome Masters, welcome all. I am glad to see

thee well: Welcome good Friends. Oh my olde Friend?

Thy face is valiant since I saw thee last: Com'st thou to

beard me in Denmarke? What, my yong Lady and Mistris?

Byrlady your Ladiship is neerer Heauen then when

I saw you last, by the altitude of a Choppine. Pray God

your voice like a peece of vncurrant Gold be not crack'd

within the ring. Masters, you are all welcome: wee'l e'ne

to't like French Faulconers, flie at any thing we see: wee'l

haue a Speech straight. Come giue vs a tast of your quality:

come, a passionate speech

1.Play. What speech, my Lord?

Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was

neuer Acted: or if it was, not aboue once, for the Play I

remember pleas'd not the Million, 'twas Cauiarie to the

Generall: but it was (as I receiu'd it, and others, whose

iudgement in such matters, cried in the top of mine) an

excellent Play; well digested in the Scoenes, set downe

with as much modestie, as cunning. I remember one said,

there was no Sallets in the lines, to make the matter sauory;

nor no matter in the phrase, that might indite the

Author of affectation, but cal'd it an honest method. One

cheefe Speech in it, I cheefely lou'd, 'twas Aeneas Tale

to Dido, and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks

of Priams slaughter. If it liue 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 Armes

Blacke as his purpose, did the night resemble

When he lay couched in the Ominous Horse,

Hath now this dread and blacke Complexion smear'd

With Heraldry more dismall: Head to foote

Now is he to take Geulles, horridly Trick'd

With blood of Fathers, Mothers, Daughters, Sonnes,

Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets,

That lend a tyrannous, and damned light

To their vilde Murthers, roasted in wrath and fire,

And thus o're-sized with coagulate gore,

With eyes like Carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus

Olde Grandsire Priam seekes

Pol. Fore God, my Lord, well spoken, with good accent,

and good discretion

1.Player. Anon he findes him,

Striking too short at Greekes. His anticke Sword,

Rebellious to his Arme, lyes where it falles

Repugnant to command: vnequall match,

Pyrrhus at Priam driues, in Rage strikes wide:

But with the whiffe and winde of his fell Sword,

Th' vnnerued Father fals. Then senselesse Illium,

Seeming to feele his blow, with flaming top

Stoopes to his Bace, and with a hideous crash

Takes Prisoner Pyrrhus eare. For loe, his Sword

Which was declining on the Milkie head

Of Reuerend Priam, seem'd i'th' Ayre to sticke:

So as a painted Tyrant Pyrrhus stood,

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

But as we often see against some storme,

A silence in the Heauens, the Racke stand still,

The bold windes speechlesse, and the Orbe below

As hush as death: Anon the dreadfull Thunder

Doth rend the Region. So after Pyrrhus pause,

A rowsed Vengeance sets him new a-worke,

And neuer did the Cyclops hammers fall

On Mars his Armours, forg'd for proofe Eterne,

With lesse remorse then Pyrrhus bleeding sword

Now falles on Priam.

Out, out, thou Strumpet-Fortune, all you Gods,

In generall Synod take away her power:

Breake all the Spokes and Fallies from her wheele,

And boule the round Naue downe the hill of Heauen,

As low as to the Fiends

Pol. This is too long

Ham. It shall to'th Barbars, with your beard. Prythee

say on: He's for a Iigge, or a tale of Baudry, or hee

sleepes. Say on; come to Hecuba

1.Play. But who, O who, had seen the inobled Queen

Ham. The inobled Queene?

Pol. That's good: Inobled Queene is good

1.Play. Run bare-foot vp and downe,

Threatning the flame

With Bisson Rheume: A clout about that head,

Where late the Diadem stood, and for a Robe

About her lanke and all ore-teamed Loines,

A blanket in th' Alarum of feare caught vp.

Who this had seene, with tongue in Venome steep'd,

'Gainst Fortunes State, would Treason haue pronounc'd?

But if the Gods themselues did see her then,

When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport

In mincing with his Sword her Husbands limbes,

The instant Burst of Clamour that she made

(Vnlesse things mortall moue them not at all)

Would haue made milche the Burning eyes of Heauen,

And passion in the Gods

Pol. Looke where he ha's not turn'd his colour, and

ha's teares in's eyes. Pray you no more

Ham. 'Tis well, Ile haue thee speake out the rest,

soone. Good my Lord, will you see the Players wel bestow'd.

Do ye heare, let them be well vs'd: for they are

the Abstracts and breefe Chronicles of the time. After

your death, you were better haue a bad Epitaph, then

their ill report while you liued

Pol. My Lord, I will vse them according to their desart

Ham. Gods bodykins man, better. Vse euerie man

after his desart, and who should scape whipping: vse

them after your own Honor and Dignity. The lesse they

deserue, the more merit is in your bountie. Take them

in

Pol. Come sirs.

Exit Polon.

Ham. Follow him Friends: wee'l heare a play to morrow.

Dost thou heare me old Friend, can you play the

murther of Gonzago?

Play. I my Lord

Ham. Wee'l ha't to morrow night. You could for a

need study a speech of some dosen or sixteene lines, which

I would set downe, and insert in't? Could ye not?

Play. I my Lord

Ham. Very well. Follow that Lord, and looke you

mock him not. My good Friends, Ile leaue you til night

you are welcome to Elsonower?

Rosin. Good my Lord.

Exeunt.

Manet Hamlet.

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

Oh what a Rogue and Pesant slaue am I?

Is it not monstrous that this Player heere,

But in a Fixion, in a dreame of Passion,

Could force his soule so to his whole conceit,

That from her working, all his visage warm'd;

Teares in his eyes, distraction in's Aspect,

A broken voyce, and his whole Function suiting

With Formes, to his Conceit? And all for nothing?

For Hecuba?

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

That he should weepe for her? What would he doe,

Had he the Motiue and the Cue for passion

That I haue? He would drowne the Stage with teares,

And cleaue the generall eare with horrid speech:

Make mad the guilty, and apale the free,

Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed,

The very faculty of Eyes and Eares. Yet I,

A dull and muddy-metled Rascall, peake

Like Iohn a-dreames, vnpregnant of my cause,

And can say nothing: No, not for a King,

Vpon whose property, and most deere life,

A damn'd defeate was made. Am I a Coward?

Who calles me Villaine? breakes my pate a-crosse?

Pluckes off my Beard, and blowes it in my face?

Tweakes me by'th' Nose? giues me the Lye i'th' Throate,

As deepe as to the Lungs? Who does me this?

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

But I am Pigeon-Liuer'd, and lacke Gall

To make Oppression bitter, or ere this,

I should haue fatted all the Region Kites

With this Slaues Offall, bloudy: a Bawdy villaine,

Remorselesse, Treacherous, Letcherous, kindles villaine!

Oh Vengeance!

Who? What an Asse am I? I sure, this is most braue,

That I, the Sonne of the Deere murthered,

Prompted to my Reuenge by Heauen, and Hell,

Must (like a Whore) vnpacke my heart with words,

And fall a Cursing like a very Drab.

A Scullion? Fye vpon't: Foh. About my Braine.

I haue heard, that guilty Creatures sitting at a Play,

Haue by the very cunning of the Scoene,

Bene strooke so to the soule, that presently

They haue proclaim'd their Malefactions.

For Murther, though it haue no tongue, will speake

With most myraculous Organ. Ile haue these Players,

Play something like the murder of my Father,

Before mine Vnkle. Ile obserue his lookes,

Ile rent him to the quicke: If he but blench

I know my course. The Spirit that I haue seene

May be the Diuell, and the Diuel hath power

T' assume a pleasing shape, yea and perhaps

Out of my Weaknesse, and my Melancholly,

As he is very potent with such Spirits,

Abuses me to damne me. Ile haue grounds

More Relatiue then this: The Play's the thing,

Wherein Ile catch the Conscience of the King.

Exit

Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance,

Guildenstern, and

Lords.

King. And can you by no drift of circumstance

Get from him why he puts on this Confusion:

Grating so harshly all his dayes of quiet

With turbulent and dangerous Lunacy

Rosin. He does confesse he feeles himselfe distracted,

But from what cause he will by no meanes speake

Guil. Nor do we finde him forward to be sounded,

But with a crafty Madnesse keepes aloofe:

When we would bring him on to some Confession

Of his true state

Qu. Did he receiue you well?

Rosin. Most like a Gentleman

Guild. But with much forcing of his disposition

Rosin. Niggard of question, but of our demands

Most free in his reply

Qu. Did you assay him to any pastime?

Rosin. Madam, it so fell out, that certaine Players

We ore-wrought on the way: of these we told him,

And there did seeme in him a kinde of ioy

To heare of it: They are about the Court,

And (as I thinke) they haue already order

This night to play before him

Pol. 'Tis most true:

And he beseech'd me to intreate your Maiesties

To heare, and see the matter

King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me

To heare him so inclin'd. Good Gentlemen,

Giue him a further edge, and driue his purpose on

To these delights

Rosin. We shall my Lord.

Exeunt.

King. Sweet Gertrude leaue vs too,

For we haue closely sent for Hamlet hither,

That he, as 'twere by accident, may there

Affront Ophelia. Her Father, and my selfe (lawful espials)

Will so bestow our selues, that seeing vnseene

We may of their encounter frankely iudge,

And gather by him, as he is behaued,

If't be th' affliction of his loue, or no.

That thus he suffers for

Qu. I shall obey you,

And for your part Ophelia, I do wish

That your good Beauties be the happy cause

Of Hamlets wildenesse: so shall I hope your Vertues

Will bring him to his wonted way againe,

To both your Honors

Ophe. Madam, I wish it may

Pol. Ophelia, walke you heere. Gracious so please ye

We will bestow our selues: Reade on this booke,

That shew of such an exercise may colour

Your lonelinesse. We are oft too blame in this,

'Tis too much prou'd, that with Deuotions visage,

And pious Action, we do surge o're

The diuell himselfe

King. Oh 'tis true:

How smart a lash that speech doth giue my Conscience?

The Harlots Cheeke beautied with plaist'ring Art

Is not more vgly to the thing that helpes it,

Then is my deede, to my most painted word.

Oh heauie burthen!

Pol. I heare him comming, let's withdraw my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the Question:

Whether 'tis Nobler in the minde to suffer

The Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune,

Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepe

No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end

The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes

That Flesh is heyre too? 'Tis a consummation

Deuoutly to be wish'd. To dye to sleepe,

To sleepe, perchance to Dreame; I, there's the rub,

For in that sleepe of death, what dreames may come,

When we haue shuffel'd off this mortall coile,

Must giue vs pawse. There's the respect

That makes Calamity of so long life:

For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time,

The Oppressors wrong, the poore mans Contumely,

The pangs of dispriz'd Loue, the Lawes delay,

The insolence of Office, and the Spurnes

That patient merit of the vnworthy takes,

When he himselfe might his Quietus make

With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare

To grunt and sweat vnder a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The vndiscouered Countrey, from whose Borne

No Traueller returnes, Puzels the will,

And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue,

Then flye to others that we know not of.

Thus Conscience does make Cowards of vs all,

And thus the Natiue hew of Resolution

Is sicklied o're, with the pale cast of Thought,

And enterprizes of great pith and moment,

With this regard their Currants turne away,

And loose the name of Action. Soft you now,

The faire Ophelia? Nimph, in thy Orizons

Be all my sinnes remembred

Ophe. Good my Lord,

How does your Honor for this many a day?

Ham. I humbly thanke you: well, well, well

Ophe. My Lord, I haue Remembrances of yours,

That I haue longed long to re-deliuer.

I pray you now, receiue them

Ham. No, no, I neuer gaue you ought

Ophe. My honor'd Lord, I know right well you did,

And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd,

As made the things more rich, then perfume left:

Take these againe, for to the Noble minde

Rich gifts wax poore, when giuers proue vnkinde.

There my Lord

Ham. Ha, ha: Are you honest?

Ophe. My Lord

Ham. Are you faire?

Ophe. What meanes your Lordship?

Ham. That if you be honest and faire, your Honesty

should admit no discourse to your Beautie

Ophe. Could Beautie my Lord, haue better Comerce

then your Honestie?

Ham. I trulie: for the power of Beautie, will sooner

transforme Honestie from what is, to a Bawd, then the

force of Honestie can translate Beautie into his likenesse.

This was sometime a Paradox, but now the time giues it

proofe. I did loue you once

Ophe. Indeed my Lord, you made me beleeue so

Ham. You should not haue beleeued me. For vertue

cannot so innocculate our old stocke, but we shall rellish

of it. I loued you not

Ophe. I was the more deceiued

Ham. Get thee to a Nunnerie. Why would'st thou

be a breeder of Sinners? I am my selfe indifferent honest,

but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better

my Mother had not borne me. I am very prowd, reuengefull,

Ambitious, with more offences at my becke,

then I haue thoughts to put them in imagination, to giue

them shape, or time to acte them in. What should such

Fellowes as I do, crawling betweene Heauen and Earth.

We are arrant Knaues all, beleeue none of vs. Goe thy

wayes to a Nunnery. Where's your Father?

Ophe. At home, my Lord

Ham. Let the doores be shut vpon him, that he may

play the Foole no way, but in's owne house. Farewell

Ophe. O helpe him, you sweet Heauens

Ham. If thou doest Marry, Ile giue thee this Plague

for thy Dowrie. Be thou as chast as Ice, as pure as Snow,

thou shalt not escape Calumny. Get thee to a Nunnery.

Go, Farewell. Or if thou wilt needs Marry, marry a fool:

for Wise men know well enough, what monsters you

make of them. To a Nunnery go, and quickly too. Farwell

Ophe. O heauenly Powers, restore him

Ham. I haue heard of your pratlings too wel enough.

God has giuen you one pace, and you make your selfe another:

you gidge, you amble, and you lispe, and nickname

Gods creatures, and make your Wantonnesse, your Ignorance.

Go too, Ile no more on't, it hath made me mad.

I say, we will haue no more Marriages. Those that are

married already, all but one shall liue, the rest shall keep

as they are. To a Nunnery, go.

Exit Hamlet.

Ophe. O what a Noble minde is heere o're-throwne?

The Courtiers, Soldiers, Schollers: Eye, tongue, sword,

Th' expectansie and Rose of the faire State,

The glasse of Fashion, and the mould of Forme,

Th' obseru'd of all Obseruers, quite, quite downe.

Haue I of Ladies most deiect and wretched,

That suck'd the Honie of his Musicke Vowes:

Now see that Noble, and most Soueraigne Reason,

Like sweet Bels iangled out of tune, and harsh,

That vnmatch'd Forme and Feature of blowne youth,

Blasted with extasie. Oh woe is me,

T'haue seene what I haue seene: see what I see.

Enter King, and Polonius.

King. Loue? His affections do not that way tend,

Nor what he spake, though it lack'd Forme a little,

Was not like Madnesse. There's something in his soule?

O're which his Melancholly sits on brood,

And I do doubt the hatch, and the disclose

Will be some danger, which to preuent

I haue in quicke determination

Thus set it downe. He shall with speed to England

For the demand of our neglected Tribute:

Haply the Seas and Countries different

With variable Obiects, shall expell

This something setled matter in his heart:

Whereon his Braines still beating, puts him thus

From fashion of himselfe. What thinke you on't?

Pol. It shall do well. But yet do I beleeue

The Origin and Commencement of this greefe

Sprung from neglected loue. How now Ophelia?

You neede not tell vs, what Lord Hamlet saide,

We heard it all. My Lord, do as you please,

But if you hold it fit after the Play,

Let his Queene Mother all alone intreat him

To shew his Greefes: let her be round with him,

And Ile be plac'd so, please you in the eare

Of all their Conference. If she finde him not,

To England send him: Or confine him where

Your wisedome best shall thinke

King. It shall be so:

Madnesse in great Ones, must not vnwatch'd go.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet, and two or three of the Players.

Ham. Speake the Speech I pray you, as I pronounc'd

it to you trippingly on the Tongue: But if you mouth it,

as many of your Players do, I had as liue the Town-Cryer

had spoke my Lines: Nor do not saw the Ayre too much

your hand thus, but vse all gently; for in the verie Torrent,

Tempest, and (as I say) the Whirle-winde of

Passion, you must acquire and beget a Temperance that

may giue it Smoothnesse. O it offends mee to the Soule,

to see a robustious Pery-wig-pated Fellow, teare a Passion

to tatters, to verie ragges, to split the eares of the

Groundlings: who (for the most part) are capeable of

nothing, but inexplicable dumbe shewes, & noise: I could

haue such a Fellow whipt for o're-doing Termagant: it

outHerod's Herod. Pray you auoid it

Player. I warrant your Honor

Ham. Be not too tame neyther: but let your owne

Discretion be your Tutor. Sute the Action to the Word,

the Word to the Action, with this speciall obseruance:

That you ore-stop not the modestie of Nature; for any

thing so ouer-done, is fro[m] the purpose of Playing, whose

end both at the first and now, was and is, to hold as 'twer

the Mirrour vp to Nature; to shew Vertue her owne

Feature, Scorne her owne Image, and the verie Age and

Bodie of the Time, his forme and pressure. Now, this

ouer-done, or come tardie off, though it make the vnskilfull

laugh, cannot but make the Iudicious greeue; The

censure of the which One, must in your allowance o'reway

a whole Theater of Others. Oh, there bee Players

that I haue seene Play, and heard others praise, and that

highly (not to speake it prophanely) that neyther hauing

the accent of Christians, nor the gate of Christian, Pagan,

or Norman, haue so strutted and bellowed, that I haue

thought some of Natures Iouerney-men had made men,

and not made them well, they imitated Humanity so abhominably

Play. I hope we haue reform'd that indifferently with

vs, Sir

Ham. O reforme it altogether. And let those that

play your Clownes, speake no more then is set downe for

them. For there be of them, that will themselues laugh,

to set on some quantitie of barren Spectators to laugh

too, though in the meane time, some necessary Question

of the Play be then to be considered: that's Villanous, &

shewes a most pittifull Ambition in the Foole that vses

it. Go make you readie.

Exit Players.

Steviekick · September 11, 2003

The Family Guy > Hamlet

September 11, 2003

September 11, 2003

At least some of us know how this damn thing works...

Cran Da Maniac · September 11, 2003

That makes my head hurt.

September 11, 2003

Enter Polonius, Rosincrance, and Guildensterne.

How now my Lord,

Will the King heare this peece of Worke?

Pol. And the Queene too, and that presently

Ham. Bid the Players make hast.

Exit Polonius.

Will you two helpe to hasten them?

Both. We will my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Horatio.

Ham. What hoa, Horatio?

Hora. Heere sweet Lord, at your Seruice

Ham. Horatio, thou art eene as iust a man

As ere my Conuersation coap'd withall

Hora. O my deere Lord

Ham. Nay, do not thinke I flatter:

For what aduancement may I hope from thee,

That no Reuennew hast, but thy good spirits

To feed & cloath thee. Why shold the poor be flatter'd?

No, let the Candied tongue, like absurd pompe,

And crooke the pregnant Hindges of the knee,

Where thrift may follow faining? Dost thou heare,

Since my deere Soule was Mistris of my choyse,

And could of men distinguish, her election

Hath seal'd thee for her selfe. For thou hast bene

As one in suffering all, that suffers nothing.

A man that Fortunes buffets, and Rewards

Hath 'tane with equall Thankes. And blest are those,

Whose Blood and Iudgement are so well co-mingled,

That they are not a Pipe for Fortunes finger.

To sound what stop she please. Giue me that man,

That is not Passions Slaue, and I will weare him

In my hearts Core. I, in my Heart of heart,

As I do thee. Something too much of this.

There is a Play to night to before the King.

One Scoene of it comes neere the Circumstance

Which I haue told thee, of my Fathers death.

I prythee, when thou see'st that Acte a-foot,

Euen with the verie Comment of my Soule

Obserue mine Vnkle: If his occulted guilt,

Do not it selfe vnkennell in one speech,

It is a damned Ghost that we haue seene:

And my Imaginations are as foule

As Vulcans Stythe. Giue him needfull note,

For I mine eyes will riuet to his Face:

And after we will both our iudgements ioyne,

To censure of his seeming

Hora. Well my Lord.

If he steale ought the whil'st this Play is Playing,

And scape detecting, I will pay the Theft.

Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance,

Guildensterne, and

other Lords attendant with his Guard carrying Torches. Danish

March. Sound

a Flourish.

Ham. They are comming to the Play: I must be idle.

Get you a place

King. How fares our Cosin Hamlet?

Ham. Excellent Ifaith, of the Camelions dish: I eate

the Ayre promise-cramm'd, you cannot feed Capons so

King. I haue nothing with this answer Hamlet, these

words are not mine

Ham. No, nor mine. Now my Lord, you plaid once

i'th' Vniuersity, you say?

Polon. That I did my Lord, and was accounted a good

Actor

Ham. And what did you enact?

Pol. I did enact Iulius Caesar, I was kill'd i'th' Capitol:

Brutus kill'd me

Ham. It was a bruite part of him, to kill so Capitall a

Calfe there. Be the Players ready?

Rosin. I my Lord, they stay vpon your patience

Qu. Come hither my good Hamlet, sit by me

Ha. No good Mother, here's Mettle more attractiue

Pol. Oh ho, do you marke that?

Ham. Ladie, shall I lye in your Lap?

Ophe. No my Lord

Ham. I meane, my Head vpon your Lap?

Ophe. I my Lord

Ham. Do you thinke I meant Country matters?

Ophe. I thinke nothing, my Lord

Ham. That's a faire thought to ly betweene Maids legs

Ophe. What is my Lord?

Ham. Nothing

Ophe. You are merrie, my Lord?

Ham. Who I?

Ophe. I my Lord

Ham. Oh God, your onely Iigge-maker: what should

a man do, but be merrie. For looke you how cheerefully

my Mother lookes, and my Father dyed within's two

Houres

Ophe. Nay, 'tis twice two moneths, my Lord

Ham. So long? Nay then let the Diuel weare blacke,

for Ile haue a suite of Sables. Oh Heauens! dye two moneths

ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's hope, a

great mans Memorie, may out-liue his life halfe a yeare:

But byrlady he must builde Churches then: or else shall

he suffer not thinking on, with the Hoby-horsse, whose

Epitaph is, For o, For o, the Hoby-horse is forgot.

Hoboyes play. The dumbe shew enters.

Enter a King and Queene, very louingly; the Queene embracing

him. She

kneeles, and makes shew of Protestation vnto him. He takes her

vp, and

declines his head vpon her neck. Layes him downe vpon a Banke

of Flowers.

She seeing him a-sleepe, leaues him. Anon comes in a Fellow,

takes off his

Crowne, kisses it, and powres poyson in the Kings eares, and

Exits. The

Queene returnes, findes the King dead, and makes passionate

Action. The

Poysoner, with some two or three Mutes comes in againe, seeming

to lament

with her. The dead body is carried away: The Poysoner Wooes the

Queene with

Gifts, she seemes loath and vnwilling awhile, but in the end,

accepts his

loue.

Exeunt.

Ophe. What meanes this, my Lord?

Ham. Marry this is Miching Malicho, that meanes

Mischeefe

Ophe. Belike this shew imports the Argument of the

Play?

Ham. We shall know by these Fellowes: the Players

cannot keepe counsell, they'l tell all

Ophe. Will they tell vs what this shew meant?

Ham. I, or any shew that you'l shew him. Bee not

you asham'd to shew, hee'l not shame to tell you what it

meanes

Ophe. You are naught, you are naught, Ile marke the

Play.

Enter Prologue.

For vs, and for our Tragedie,

Heere stooping to your Clemencie:

We begge your hearing Patientlie

Ham. Is this a Prologue, or the Poesie of a Ring?

Ophe. 'Tis briefe my Lord

Ham. As Womans loue.

Enter King and his Queene.

King. Full thirtie times hath Phoebus Cart gon round,

Neptunes salt Wash, and Tellus Orbed ground:

And thirtie dozen Moones with borrowed sheene,

About the World haue times twelue thirties beene,

Since loue our hearts, and Hymen did our hands

Vnite comutuall, in most sacred Bands

Bap. So many iournies may the Sunne and Moone

Make vs againe count o're, ere loue be done.

But woe is me, you are so sicke of late,

So farre from cheere, and from your former state,

That I distrust you: yet though I distrust,

Discomfort you (my Lord) it nothing must:

For womens Feare and Loue, holds quantitie,

In neither ought, or in extremity:

Now what my loue is, proofe hath made you know,

And as my Loue is siz'd, my Feare is so

King. Faith I must leaue thee Loue, and shortly too:

My operant Powers my Functions leaue to do:

And thou shalt liue in this faire world behinde,

Honour'd, belou'd, and haply, one as kinde.

For Husband shalt thou-

Bap. Oh confound the rest:

Such Loue, must needs be Treason in my brest:

In second Husband, let me be accurst,

None wed the second, but who kill'd the first

Ham. Wormwood, Wormwood

Bapt. The instances that second Marriage moue,

Are base respects of Thrift, but none of Loue.

A second time, I kill my Husband dead,

When second Husband kisses me in Bed

King. I do beleeue you. Think what now you speak:

But what we do determine, oft we breake:

Purpose is but the slaue to Memorie,

Of violent Birth, but poore validitie:

Which now like Fruite vnripe stickes on the Tree,

But fall vnshaken, when they mellow bee.

Most necessary 'tis, that we forget

To pay our selues, what to our selues is debt:

What to our selues in passion we propose,

The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.

The violence of other Greefe or Ioy,

Their owne ennactors with themselues destroy:

Where Ioy most Reuels, Greefe doth most lament;

Greefe ioyes, Ioy greeues on slender accident.

This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange

That euen our Loues should with our Fortunes change.

For 'tis a question left vs yet to proue,

Whether Loue lead Fortune, or else Fortune Loue.

The great man downe, you marke his fauourites flies,

The poore aduanc'd, makes Friends of Enemies:

And hitherto doth Loue on Fortune tend,

For who not needs, shall neuer lacke a Frend:

And who in want a hollow Friend doth try,

Directly seasons him his Enemie.

But orderly to end, where I begun,

Our Willes and Fates do so contrary run,

That our Deuices still are ouerthrowne,

Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our owne.

So thinke thou wilt no second Husband wed.

But die thy thoughts, when thy first Lord is dead

Bap. Nor Earth to giue me food, nor Heauen light,

Sport and repose locke from me day and night:

Each opposite that blankes the face of ioy,

Meet what I would haue well, and it destroy:

Both heere, and hence, pursue me lasting strife,

If once a Widdow, euer I be Wife

Ham. If she should breake it now

King. 'Tis deepely sworne:

Sweet, leaue me heere a while,

My spirits grow dull, and faine I would beguile

The tedious day with sleepe

Qu. Sleepe rocke thy Braine,

Sleepes

And neuer come mischance betweene vs twaine.

Exit

Ham. Madam, how like you this Play?

Qu. The Lady protests to much me thinkes

Ham. Oh but shee'l keepe her word

King. Haue you heard the Argument, is there no Offence

in't?

Ham. No, no, they do but iest, poyson in iest, no Offence

i'th' world

King. What do you call the Play?

Ham. The Mouse-trap: Marry how? Tropically:

This Play is the Image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago

is the Dukes name, his wife Baptista: you shall see

anon: 'tis a knauish peece of worke: But what o'that?

Your Maiestie, and wee that haue free soules, it touches

vs not: let the gall'd iade winch: our withers are vnrung.

Enter Lucianus.

This is one Lucianus nephew to the King

Ophe. You are a good Chorus, my Lord

Ham. I could interpret betweene you and your loue:

if I could see the Puppets dallying

Ophe. You are keene my Lord, you are keene

Ham. It would cost you a groaning, to take off my

edge

Ophe. Still better and worse

Ham. So you mistake Husbands.

Begin Murderer. Pox, leaue thy damnable Faces, and

begin. Come, the croaking Rauen doth bellow for Reuenge

Lucian. Thoughts blacke, hands apt,

Drugges fit, and Time agreeing:

Confederate season, else, no Creature seeing:

Thou mixture ranke, of Midnight Weeds collected,

With Hecats Ban, thrice blasted, thrice infected,

Thy naturall Magicke, and dire propertie,

On wholsome life, vsurpe immediately.

Powres the poyson in his eares.

Ham. He poysons him i'th' Garden for's estate: His

name's Gonzago: the Story is extant and writ in choyce

Italian. You shall see anon how the Murtherer gets the

loue of Gonzago's wife

Ophe. The King rises

Ham. What, frighted with false fire

Qu. How fares my Lord?

Pol. Giue o're the Play

King. Giue me some Light. Away

All. Lights, Lights, Lights.

Exeunt.

Ripper · September 11, 2003

ANYWAY. Eagan would fuck it up. Damn you to HECK!

Papacita · September 11, 2003

ZIMBABWE!!!!!!!!

September 11, 2003

BOO-YAH!

eiker_ir · September 11, 2003

:headbang:

Edited September 11, 2003 by eiker_ir

September 11, 2003

I can fix it....give it more GIRTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!~!

Austin3164life · September 11, 2003

Well, it's the Big Show.

Austin3164life · September 11, 2003

Word Life~!

Lets make the biggest quote ever

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