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. the Tragical History of . H A M L E T . Prince of Denmark .
(In the original language with modernized spelling)
- Scene 10 [~ Prayer Scene ~] (Act 3 Scene 3)
Setting: Inside the Castle;- The King's Room;
After midnight.
(Claudius enters;- Rosencrantz and Guildenstern enter)
(Hamlet lurks)
Claudius: I like him not, nor stands it safe with us- To let his madness range; therefore, prepare you;
I your commission will forthwith dispatch,
And he to England shall along with you;
The terms of our estate may not endure
Hazard so near us as doth hourly grow
Out of his brows.
- Guildenstern: We will ourselves provide;
- Most holy and religious fear it is
To keep those many, many bodies safe
That live and feed upon your Majesty.
- Rosencrantz: The single and peculiar life is bound
- With all the strength and armor of the mind
To keep itself from 'noyance; but much more
That spirit, upon whose weal depends and rests
The lives of many; the cess' of majesty
Dies not alone; but like a gulf, doth draw
What's near it, with it; or, it is a massy wheel
Fixed on the summit of the highest mount,
To whose hough spokes, ten thousand lesser things
Are morteist and adjoined; which, when it falls,
Each small annexment, petty consequence,
Attends the boisterous rain; never alone
Did the King sigh, but a general groan.
- Clau: Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy viage,
- For we will fetters put about this fear
Which now goes too free-footed.
- Ros: We will haste us.
(Rosencrantz and Guildenstern exit)
(Polonius enters)
Polonius: My Lord, he's going to his mother's closet;- Behind the arras I'll convey myself
To hear the process; I'll warrant she'll tax him home;
And as you said, and wisely was it said,
'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother,
Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear
The speech of vantage; far you well, my Leige,
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed.
And tell you what I know.
(Polonius exits)
Claudius: Thanks . . . dear my Lord.- O my offense is rank, it smells to heaven!
It hath the primal, eldest curse upon it:
A brother's murder. Pray, can I not,
Though inclination be as sharp as will,
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,
And like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect; what if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood?
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy,
But to confront the visage of offense?
And what's in prayer but this two-fold force:
To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
Or, pardon being down? Then I'll look vp.
My fault is past, but oh, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn, forgive me my foul murder?
That cannot be, since I am still possessed
Of those effects for which I did the murder:
My Crown, mine own ambition, and my Queen.
May one be pardoned and retain the offense?
In the corrupted currents of this world,
Offense's gilded hand may show by justice,
And oft' 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law. But 'tis not so above;
There, is no shuffling; there, the action lies
In his true nature, and we, ourselves, compelled
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults
To give in evidence; what then, what rests?
Try what repentance can, what can it not,
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
Oh wretched state, oh bosom black as death,
Oh limed soul, that struggling to be free,
Art more engaged; help, angels, make assay;
Bow stubborn knees, and heart with strings of steel,
Be soft as sinews of the newborn babe.
All may be well.
(Hamlet enters)
Hamlet: Now might I do it, but now he is a-praying;- And now I'll do't, and so he goes to heaven;
And so, am I revenge? That would be scant.
A villain kills my father, and for that,
I, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.
Why, this is base and silly, not revenge!
He took my father grossly full of bread,
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May,
And how his audit stands, who knows save heaven?
But in our circumstance and course of thought,
'Tis heavy with him. And am I then revenged
To take him in the purging of his soul,
When he is fit and seasoned for his passage?
No.
Up sword, and know thou a more horrid hent,
When he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage,
Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed,
At game a-swearing, or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in it;
Then trip him that his heels may kick at heaven,
And that his soul may be as damned and black
As Hell, whereto it goes; my mother stays;
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.
(Hamlet exits)
Claudius: My words fly up; my thoughts remain below.- Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
(Claudius exits)
End of Scene 10
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. The Tragedy of . H A M L E T . Prince of Denmark .
(In simplified modern English translation)
- Scene 10 [~ Prayer Scene ~] (Act 3 Scene 3)
Setting: Inside the Castle;- The King's Room;
After midnight.
(Claudius enters;- Rosencrantz and Guildenstern enter)
(Hamlet lurks!)
Claudius: I don't like him, and it isn't safe for me- To let his madness run wild. Therefore, prepare yourselves.
I'll get the paperwork done right away,
And he'll go to England, along with you.
My continuance in office as King may not survive
The hazard that grows hour-by-hour
Out of his effrontery.
- Guildenstern: We do volunteer ourselves.
- It's a most holy and religious concern
To keep those many, many, people safe
Who depend upon your Majesty.
- Rosencrantz: The single, individual life is determined,
- With all the strength and armor of its mind,
To keep itself from being bothered. But it's so much more
Important to protect the soul upon whose prosperity depends
The lives of many others. The end of Majesty
Does not die alone, but like a whirlpool it draws
What's near it, down with it. Or, it is like a huge wheel
Placed on the summit of the highest mountain,
To the huge spokes of which, ten thousand lesser lives
Are attached and fitted, which, if the wheel falls,
Each small life in its own way, as a consequence,
Falls, like a great rain falling. Never alone
Did a king sigh, but always, the people groan.
- Clau: Equip yourselves, please, for this speedy voyage,
- And we will put fetters on our fear
Which now runs too free-footed.
- Ros: We will hurry.
(Rosencrantz and Guildenstern exit)
(Polonius enters)
Polonius: My Lord, he's going to his mother's parlor.- I'll conceal myself behind an arras there
To hear how it goes. I'll guarantee she'll scold him back to normal.
And as you said, and wisely was it said,
It's proper that some audience other than a mother,
Since nature makes them partial, should overhear
The conversation to good advantage. Farewell, my Liege,
I'll call upon you before you go to bed,
And tell you what I've found out.
(Polonius exits)
Claudius: Thanks . . . dear my Lord.- Oh, my crime is rank, it smells to Heaven!
It has the primal, oldest curse upon it:
A brother's murder. I cannot pray.
Although my instinct to pray is as strong as my desire to,
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intention,
And like a man obligated to do two things at once,
I stand still, wondering where I should begin,
And neglect both tasks. What if this cursed hand of mine
Were darker than itself, covered with a brother's blood?
Is there not rain enough in all the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow? How can I find the mercy of God
Except to look my offense truly in the face?
And what is prayer for, but this two-fold power:
To be stopped before we fall,
Or to gain pardon when we are down? Then, I'll look up.
My crime is past, but, oh, what form of prayer
Can serve my purpose, forgive me my foul murder?
It cannot be, since I still have
Those things for which I did the murder:
The crown, my desire to be King, and the Queen.
May one be pardoned, and keep the spoils of the crime?
In the corrupted ways of this earthly world,
Ill-gotten gains can plead their way past human justice,
And it is often seen, that the wicked loot, itself,
Buys off the law - but it is not so, above.
There is no evasion before God; there, an action is seen
In its true nature, and we, ourselves, are compelled
Even down to the hardest parts of our faults,
To give ourselves in evidence. What then, what relief do I find?
Try whatever repentance I can, what can it not do,
Yet what can it do, when I can't repent?
Oh, wretched state, oh bosom black as death,
Oh trapped soul, that struggling to be free
Becomes more entangled. Help me, angels, I'll try to pray.
Bow, my stubborn knees, and my heart, (wrapped now with strings of steel,)
Become soft as the sinews of a new-born baby!
All may be well.
(Hamlet steps out of hiding)
Hamlet: Now might I do it, but now he is a-praying;- And now I do it, and so he goes to Heaven.
And so, am I true Revenge? That would be scant vengeance -
A villain kills my father, and in return,
I, the only son, do send this same villain
To Heaven?!
Why, it would be hire and payment, not revenge!
He killed my father grossly full of his sins,
With all his religious offenses in full bloom, as profuse as May.
But how his accounting stands, who knows, outside Heaven?
But under the circumstances one must think
His sins are heavy upon him. And am I then revenged
To kill him during the cleansing of his soul,
When he is fit and ready for his passage?
No.
Be put away, my sword, and wait for a more horrid chance,
When he is drunk, asleep, or in a rage,
Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed,
Or gambling, or swearing, or doing some act
That has no hint of salvation in it.
Then, trip him so his heels kick uselessly at Heaven,
And so his soul will be as damned and black
As Hell, where it goes! My mother is waiting.
This remedy, of letting him live, only prolongs his sickly days.
(Hamlet exits)
Claudius: My words fly up, but my thoughts remain below.- Words without thoughts, never to Heaven go.
(Claudius exits)
End of Scene 10
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(Regained)