Chapter 2

Scene II.
Elsinore. hall in the Castle.

Enter Hamlet and three of the Players.

Ham. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc’d it to you,
trippingly on the tongue. But if you mouth it, as many of our
players do, I had as live the town crier spoke my lines. Nor
do
not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all
gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say)
whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a
temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to
the
soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion
to
tatters, to very rags, to split the cars of the groundlings,
who
(for the most part) are capable of nothing but inexplicable
dumb
shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipp’d for
o’erdoing
Termagant. It out-herods Herod. Pray you avoid it.
Player. I warrant your honour.
Ham. Be not too tame neither; but let your own discretion be
your
tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word to the action;
with
this special observance, that you o’erstep not the modesty of
nature: for anything so overdone is from the purpose of
playing,
whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as
’twere, the mirror up to nature; to show Virtue her own
feature,
scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time
his
form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off,
though
it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious
grieve; the censure of the which one must in your allowance
o’erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players that
I
have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly (not
to
speak it profanely), that, neither having the accent of
Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have
so
strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature’s
journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they
imitated
humanity so abominably.
Player. I hope we have reform’d that indifferently with us,
sir.
Ham. O, reform it altogether! And let those that play your
clowns
speak no more than is set down for them. For there be of them
that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren
spectators to laugh too, though in the mean time some
necessary
question of the play be then to be considered. That’s
villanous
and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it.
Go
make you ready.
Exeunt Players.

Enter Polonius, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern.

How now, my lord? Will the King hear this piece of work?

Pol. And the Queen too, and that presently.

Ham. Bid the players make haste, [Exit Polonius.] Will you two

help to hasten them?

Both. We will, my lord. Exeunt they two.

Ham. What, ho, Horatio!

Enter Horatio.

Hor. Here, sweet lord, at your service.

Ham. Horatio, thou art e’en as just a man

As e’er my conversation cop’d withal.

Hor. O, my dear lord!

Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter;

For what advancement may I hope from thee,

That no revenue hast but thy good spirits

To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter’d?

No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,

And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee

Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?

Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice

And could of men distinguish, her election

Hath scald thee for herself. For thou hast been

As one, in suff’ring all, that suffers nothing;

A man that Fortune’s buffets and rewards

Hast ta’en with equal thanks; and blest are those

Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled

That they are not a pipe for Fortune’s finger

To sound what stop she please. Give me that man

That is not passion’s slave, and I will wear him

In my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of heart,

As I do thee. Something too much of this I

There is a play to-night before the King.

One scene of it comes near the circumstance,

Which I have told thee, of my father’s death.

I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot,

Even with the very comment of thy soul

Observe my uncle. If his occulted guilt

Do not itself unkennel in one speech,

It is a damned ghost that we have seen,

And my imaginations are as foul

As Vulcan’s stithy. Give him heedful note;

For I mine eyes will rivet to his face,

And after we will both our judgments join

In censure of his seeming.

Hor. Well, my lord.

If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing,

And scape detecting, I will pay the theft.

Sound a flourish. [Enter Trumpets and Kettledrums. Danish

march. [Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz,

Guildenstern, and other Lords attendant, with the Guard

carrying torches.

Ham. They are coming to the play. I must be idle.

Get you a place.

King. How fares our cousin Hamlet?

Ham. Excellent, i’ faith; of the chameleon’s dish. I eat the

air,

promise-cramm’d. You cannot feed capons so.

King. I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet. These words are

not

mine.

Ham. No, nor mine now. [To Polonius] My lord, you play’d once

i’ th’ university, you say?

Pol. That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor.

Ham. What did you enact?

Pol. I did enact Julius Caesar; I was kill’d i’ th’ Capitol;

Brutus

kill’d me.

Ham. It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf

there. Be

the players ready.

Ros. Ay, my lord. They stay upon your patience.

Queen. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.

Ham. No, good mother. Here’s metal more attractive.

Pol. [to the King] O, ho! do you mark that?

Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap?

[Sits down at Ophelia’s feet.]

Oph. No, my lord.

Ham. I mean, my head upon your lap?

Oph. Ay, my lord.

Ham. Do you think I meant country matters?

Oph. I think nothing, my lord.

Ham. That’s a fair thought to lie between maids’ legs.

Oph. What is, my lord?

Ham. Nothing.

Oph. You are merry, my lord.

Ham. Who, I?

Oph. Ay, my lord.

Ham. O God, your only jig-maker! What should a man do but be

merry?

For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father

died

within ’s two hours.

Oph. Nay ’tis twice two months, my lord.

Ham. So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for I’ll have

a

suit of sables. O heavens! die two months ago, and not

forgotten

yet? Then there’s hope a great man’s memory may outlive his

life

half a year. But, by’r Lady, he must build churches then; or

else

shall he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose

epitaph is ’For O, for O, the hobby-horse is forgot!’

Hautboys play. The dumb show enters.

Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen embracing

him and he her. She kneels, and makes show of protestation

unto him. He takes her up, and declines his head upon her

neck. He lays him down upon a bank of flowers. She, seeing

him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his

crown, kisses it, pours poison in the sleeper’s ears, and

leaves him. The Queen returns, finds the King dead, and makes

passionate action. The Poisoner with some three or four

Mutes,

comes in again, seem to condole with her. The dead body is

carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with gifts; she

seems harsh and unwilling awhile, but in the end accepts

his love.

Exeunt.

Oph. What means this, my lord?

Ham. Marry, this is miching malhecho; it means mischief.

Oph. Belike this show imports the argument of the play.

Enter Prologue.

Ham. We shall know by this fellow. The players cannot keep

counsel;

they’ll tell all.

Oph. Will he tell us what this show meant?

Ham. Ay, or any show that you’ll show him. Be not you asham’d

to

show, he’ll not shame to tell you what it means.

Oph. You are naught, you are naught! I’ll mark the play.

Pro. For us, and for our tragedy,

Here stooping to your clemency,

We beg your hearing patiently. [Exit.]

Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?

Oph. ’Tis brief, my lord.

Ham. As woman’s love.

Enter [two Players as] King and Queen.

King. Full thirty times hath Phoebus’ cart gone round

Neptune’s salt wash and Tellus’ orbed ground,

And thirty dozed moons with borrowed sheen

About the world have times twelve thirties been,

Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands,

Unite comutual in most sacred bands.

Queen. So many journeys may the sun and moon

Make us again count o’er ere love be done!

But woe is me! you are so sick of late,

So far from cheer and from your former state.

That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,

Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must;

For women’s fear and love holds quantity,

In neither aught, or in extremity.

Now what my love is, proof hath made you know;

And as my love is siz’d, my fear is so.

Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;

Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.

King. Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too;

My operant powers their functions leave to do.

And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,

Honour’d, belov’d, and haply one as kind

For husband shalt thou-

Queen. O, confound the rest!

Such love must needs be treason in my breast.

When second husband let me be accurst!

None wed the second but who killed the first.

Ham. [aside] Wormwood, wormwood!

Queen. The instances that second marriage move

Are base respects of thrift, but none of love.

A second time I kill my husband dead

When second husband kisses me in bed.

King. I do believe you think what now you speak;

But what we do determine oft we break.

Purpose is but the slave to memory,

Of violent birth, but poor validity;

Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree,

But fill unshaken when they mellow be.

Most necessary ’tis that we forget

To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt.

What to ourselves in passion we propose,

The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.

The violence of either grief or joy

Their own enactures with themselves destroy.

Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;

Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.

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

That even our loves should with our fortunes change;

For ’tis a question left us yet to prove,

Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.

The great man down, you mark his favourite flies,

The poor advanc’d makes friends of enemies;

And hitherto doth love on fortune tend,

For who not needs shall never lack a friend,

And who in want a hollow friend doth try,

Directly seasons him his enemy.

But, orderly to end where I begun,

Our wills and fates do so contrary run

That our devices still are overthrown;

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

So think thou wilt no second husband wed;

But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.

Queen. Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light,

Sport and repose lock from me day and night,

To desperation turn my trust and hope,

An anchor’s cheer in prison be my scope,

Each opposite that blanks the face of joy

Meet what I would have well, and it destroy,

Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife,

If, once a widow, ever I be wife!

Ham. If she should break it now!

King. ’Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile.

My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile

The tedious day with sleep.

Queen. Sleep rock thy brain,

[He] sleeps.

And never come mischance between us twain!

Exit.

Ham. Madam, how like you this play?

Queen. The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

Ham. O, but she’ll keep her word.

King. Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in’t?

Ham. No, no! They do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i’

th’

world.

King. What do you call the play?

Ham. ’The Mousetrap.’ Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the

image of a murther done in Vienna. Gonzago is the duke’s

name;

his wife, Baptista. You shall see anon. ’Tis a knavish piece

of

work; but what o’ that? Your Majesty, and we that have free

souls, it touches us not. Let the gall’d jade winch; our

withers

are unwrung.

Enter Lucianus.

This is one Lucianus, nephew to the King.

Oph. You are as good as a chorus, my lord.

Ham. I could interpret between you and your love, if I could

see

the puppets dallying.

Oph. You are keen, my lord, you are keen.

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

Oph. Still better, and worse.

Ham. So you must take your husbands.- Begin, murtherer. Pox,

leave

thy damnable faces, and begin! Come, the croaking raven doth

bellow for revenge.

Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;

Confederate season, else no creature seeing;

Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,

With Hecate’s ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,

Thy natural magic and dire property

On wholesome life usurp immediately.

Pours the poison in his ears.

Ham. He poisons him i’ th’ garden for’s estate. His name’s

Gonzago.

The story is extant, and written in very choice Italian. You

shall see anon how the murtherer gets the love of Gonzago’s

wife.

Oph. The King rises.

Ham. What, frighted with false fire?

Queen. How fares my lord?

Pol. Give o’er the play.

King. Give me some light! Away!

All. Lights, lights, lights!

Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horatio.

Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep,

The hart ungalled play;

For some must watch, while some must sleep:

Thus runs the world away.

Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers- if the rest of

my

fortunes turn Turk with me-with two Provincial roses on my

raz’d

shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir?

Hor. Half a share.

Ham. A whole one I!

For thou dost know, O Damon dear,

This realm dismantled was

Of Jove himself; and now reigns here

A very, very- pajock.

Hor. You might have rhym’d.

Ham. O good Horatio, I’ll take the ghost’s word for a thousand

pound! Didst perceive?

Hor. Very well, my lord.

Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning?

Hor. I did very well note him.

Ham. Aha! Come, some music! Come, the recorders!

For if the King like not the comedy,

Why then, belike he likes it not, perdy.

Come, some music!

Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.

Ham. Sir, a whole history.

Guil. The King, sir-

Ham. Ay, sir, what of him?

Guil. Is in his retirement, marvellous distemper’d.

Ham. With drink, sir?

Guil. No, my lord; rather with choler.

Ham. Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify this

to

the doctor; for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps

plunge him into far more choler.

Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and

start

not so wildly from my affair.

Ham. I am tame, sir; pronounce.

Guil. The Queen, your mother, in most great affliction of

spirit

hath sent me to you.

Ham. You are welcome.

Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right

breed.

If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will

do

your mother’s commandment; if not, your pardon and my return

shall be the end of my business.

Ham. Sir, I cannot.

Guil. What, my lord?

Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my wit’s diseas’d. But, sir,

such

answer is I can make, you shall command; or rather, as you

say,

my mother. Therefore no more, but to the matter! My mother,

you

say-

Ros. Then thus she says: your behaviour hath struck her into

amazement and admiration.

Ham. O wonderful son, that can so stonish a mother! But is

there no

sequel at the heels of this mother’s admiration? Impart.

Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet ere you go to

bed.

Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any

further trade with us?

Ros. My lord, you once did love me.

Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers!

Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do

surely

bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs

to

your friend.

Ham. Sir, I lack advancement.

Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice of the King

himself

for your succession in Denmark?

Ham. Ay, sir, but ’while the grass grows’- the proverb is

something

musty.

Enter the Players with recorders.

O, the recorders! Let me see one. To withdraw with you- why

do

you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive

me

into a toil?

Guil. O my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too

unmannerly.

Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this

pipe?

Guil. My lord, I cannot.

Ham. I pray you.

Guil. Believe me, I cannot.

Ham. I do beseech you.

Guil. I know, no touch of it, my lord.

Ham. It is as easy as lying. Govern these ventages with your

fingers and thumbs, give it breath with your mouth, and it

will

discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops.

Guil. But these cannot I command to any utt’rance of harmony. I

have not the skill.

Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me!

You

would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you

would

pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my

lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much

music,

excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it

speak. ’Sblood, do you think I am easier to be play’d on than

a

pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret

me,

you cannot play upon me.

Enter Polonius.

God bless you, sir!

Pol. My lord, the Queen would speak with you, and presently.

Ham. Do you see yonder cloud that’s almost in shape of a camel?

Pol. By th’ mass, and ’tis like a camel indeed.

Ham. Methinks it is like a weasel.

Pol. It is back’d like a weasel.

Ham. Or like a whale.

Pol. Very like a whale.

Ham. Then will I come to my mother by-and-by.- They fool me to

the

top of my bent.- I will come by-and-by.

Pol. I will say so. Exit.

Ham. ’By-and-by’ is easily said.- Leave me, friends.

[Exeunt all but Hamlet.]

’Tis now the very witching time of night,

When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out

Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood

And do such bitter business as the day

Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother!

O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever

The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom.

Let me be cruel, not unnatural;

I will speak daggers to her, but use none.

My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites-

How in my words somever she be shent,

To give them seals never, my soul, consent!Exit.