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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 18 [~ Naked ~] (Act 4 scene 7)
Setting: Inside the Castle;- The King's Room;
Daytime.
(Claudius and Laertes enter)
Claudius: Now must your conscience my acquittance seal,- And you must put me in your heart for friend,
Sith you have heard and with a knowing ear,
That he which hath your noble father slain
Pursued my life.
- Laertes: It well appears: but tell me
- Why you proceed not against these feats
So criminal and so capital in nature,
As by your safety, greatness, wisdom, all things else
You mainly were stirred up.
- Clau: Oh, for two special reasons
- Which may to you perhaps seem much unsinewed,
But yet to me they're strong; the Queen, his mother
Lives almost by his looks, and for myself,
My virtue or my plague, be it either which,
She is so concleave to my life and soul,
That as the star moves not but in his sphere
I could not but by her; the other motive,
Why to a public count I might not go,
Is the great love the general gender bear him,
Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
Work like the spring that turneth wood to stone:
Convert his gyves to graces, so that my arrows,
Too slightly timbered for so loved, armed,
Would have reverted to my bow again,
But not where I have aimed them.
- Laer: And so have I a noble father lost,
- A sister driven into desperate terms,
Whose worth, if praises may go back again
Stood challenger on mount of all the age
For her perfections, but my revenge will come.
- Clau: Break not your sleeps for that, you must not think
- That we are made of stuff so flat and dull,
That we can let our beard be shook with danger,
And think it pastime, you shortly shall hear more;
I loved your father, and we love our self,
And that I hope will teach you to imagine . . .
(a messenger enters with letters)
Messenger: These to your Majesty, this to the Queen.- Claudius: From Hamlet, who brought them?
- Messen: Sailors, my Lord, they say; I saw them not;
- They were given me by Claudio; he received them
Of him that brought them.
- Clau: Laertes, you shall hear them. Leave us.
(the Messenger exits)
(Claudius continues, reading a letter):
High and mighty,- you shall know I am set naked on your kingdom;
tomorrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes, when I shall, first
asking you pardon, thereunto recount the occasion of my sudden
and more strange return.
Claudius: What should this mean, are all the rest come back,- Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?
- Laertes: Know you the hand?
- Clau: 'Tis Hamlet's character. Naked?
- And in a postscript here he says: "alone;"
Can you devise me?
- Laer: I am lost in it, my Lord, but let him come;
- It warms the very sickness in my heart
That I live, and tell him to his teeth:
Thus didst thou!
(Laertes imitates stabbing Hamlet with a sword)
Claudius: If it be so Laertes,- As how should it be so, how otherwise,
Will you be ruled by me?
- Laertes: Aye, my Lord, so you will not o'errule me to a peace.
- Clau: To thine own peace, if he be now returned;
- As the King at his voyage, and that he means
No more to undertake it, I will work him
To an exploit, now ripe in my devise,
Under the which he shall not choose but fall;
And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe,
But even his mother shall uncharge the practice,
And call it accident.
- Laer: My Lord, I will be ruled,
- The rather if you could devise it so
That I might be the organ.
- Clau: It falls right;
- You have been talked of since your travel much,
And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality
Wherein they say you shine; your sum of parts
Did not together pluck such envy from him
As did that one, and that in my regard
Of the unworthiest siege.
- Laer. What part is that, my Lord?
- Clau: A very ribbon in the cap of youth,
- Yet needful to, for youth no less becomes
The light and careless livery that it wears
Than settled age, his sables, and his weeds
Importing health and graveness; two months since,
Here was a gentleman of Normandy;
I have seen myself, and served against the French,
And they can well on horseback, but this gallant
Had witchcraft in it; he grew unto his seat,
And to such wondrous doing brought his horse,
As had he been incorpsed, and deminatured
With the brave beast, so far he topped, methought,
That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks,
Come short of what he did.
- Laer: A Norman, was it?
- Clau: A Norman.
- Laer: Upon my life, Lamord!
- Clau: The very same.
- Laer: I know him well; he is the brooch indeed,
- And gem of all the nation.
- Clau: He made confession of you,
- And gave you such a masterly report
For art and exercise in your defense,
And for your rapier most especially,
That he cried out 'twould be a sight indeed
If one could match you; the scrimures of their nation,
He swore had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
If you opposed them; sir, this report of his
Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy,
That he could nothing do but wish and beg
Your sudden coming o'er, to play with you.
Now, out of this . . .
- Laer: What out of this, my Lord?
- Clau: Laertes, was your father dear to you?
- Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
A face without a heart?
- Laer: Why ask you this?
- Clau: Not that I think you did not love your father,
- But that I know, love is begun by time,
And that I see in passages of proof,
Time qualifies the spark and fire of it;
There lives within the very flame of love
A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it,
And nothing is at a like goodness still,
For goodness, growing to a pleurisy,
Dies in his own too much; that we would do,
We should do when we would. For, this "would" changes,
And hath abatements and delays as many,
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents,
And then this "should" is like a spendthrift's sigh,
That hurts by easing; but to the quick of the ulcer:
Hamlet comes back; what would you undertake
To show yourself indeed your father's son
More than in words?
- Laer: To cut his throat in the church.
- Clau: No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize;
- Revenge should have no bounds. But good Laertes,
Will you do this: keep close within your chamber;
Hamlet, returned, shall know you are come home;
We'll put on those shall praise your excellence,
And set a double varnish on the fame
The Frenchman gave you; bring you, in fine, together,
And wager o'er your heads; he, being remiss,
Most generous, and free from all contriving,
Will not peruse the foils, so that with ease,
Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
A sword unbated, and in a pace of practice
Requite him for your father.
- Laer: I will do it!
- And for purpose, I'll anoint my sword.
I bought an unction of a mountebank
So mortal, that but dip a knife in it,
Where it draws blood, no cataplasm so rare,
Collected from all simples that have virtue
Under the moon, can save the thing from death
That is but scratched withal; I'll touch my point
With this contagion, that if I gall him slightly, it may be death.
- Clau: Lets further think of this.
- Weigh what convenience, both of time and means,
May fit us to our shape, if this should fail;
And that our drift look through our bad performance,
'Twere better not assayed; therefore, this project
Should have a back or second that might hold
If this did blast in proof; soft, let me see . . .
We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings;
I 'hate'; when, in your motion, you are hot and dry,
(As make your bouts more violent to that end,)
And that he calls for drink, I'll have preferred him
A chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping,
If he by chance escape your venomed stuck,
Our purpose may hold there; but stay, what noise?
(Gertrude enters)
Gertrude: One woe doth tread upon another's heel,- So fast they follow; your sister's drowned, Laertes.
- Laertes: Drowned? O where?
- Gert: There is a willow grows askant the brook,
- That shows his hoary leaves in the glassy stream,
Therewith fantastic garlands did she make
Of crowflowers, nettles, daises, and long purples
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cull-cold maids do dead-men's-fingers call them.
There on the pendant boughs, her crownet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook; her clothes spread wide,
And mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up,
Which time she chanted snatches of old lauds,
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and endewed
Unto that element, but long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.
- Laer: Alas, then she is drowned?
- Gert: Drowned. Drowned.
- Laer: Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,
- And therefore I forbid my tears; but yet
It is our trick; nature her custom holds;
Let shame say what it will, when these are gone,
The woman will be out. Adieu, my Lord;
I have a speech o' fire that fain would blaze,
But that this folly drowns it.
(Laertes exits)
Claudius: Let's follow, Gertrude;- How much I had to do, to calm his rage;
Now fear I, this will give it start again;
Therefore lets follow.
(they exit)
End of Scene 18
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. The Tragedy of . H A M L E T . Prince of Denmark .
(In simplified modern English translation)
- Scene 18 [~ Naked ~] (Act 4 scene 7)
Setting: Inside the Castle;- The King's Room;
Daytime.
(Claudius and Laertes enter)
Claudius: Now your conscience must forgive me,- And you must take me to your heart as your friend,
Because you have heard, with a well-informed ear,
That he who has killed your father
Was trying to kill me.
- Laertes: It very well looks that way. But tell me,
- Why don't you proceed against such misdeeds,
Which are capital crimes by the nature of them?
For your own safety and position, and in your wisdom, everything
Should have motivated you to take action.
- Clau: Oh, for two special reasons,
- Which may, perhaps, seem very weak to you,
But to me are strong. The Queen, his mother,
Dotes on him. And for myself -
It's either my blessing or my curse, one or the other -
She is so united to my life and soul,
That, the same way a planet has to stay in its orbit,
I cannot do without her. The other reason,
Why I can't plead my case to the public and win, is because of
The great love women, and the public, have for him.
They'd cover all his faults with their affection, and
It would be like the water that turns wood to stone:
They'd make his shackles into blessings, so my arrows of accusation,
Too lightly built to penetrate the armor of such love,
Would ricochet off from him and back at me,
Not sticking in the target where I aimed them.
- Laer: And so I've lost a noble father, and I have
- A sister driven into desperate expressions of grief,
Whose quality - if I may praise the way she was -
Stood to rival a beautiful statue, on the highest pedestal of our times,
Because of her perfection. But my revenge will come.
- Clau: Don't lose any sleep over that - you mustn't think
- That I am made of stuff so insipid and stupid
That I can let my chin be trembled by fear of danger
And think it's fun. You will soon hear more from me.
I loved your father, and I love myself,
And that, I hope, will give you something to imagine . . .
(a messenger enters with letters)
Messenger: These are for your Majesty, and this one is to the Queen.- Claudius: From Hamlet? Who brought them?
- Messen: They say it was sailors, my Lord, I didn't see them.
- They were given to me by Claudio. He received them
From the one who brought them.
- Clau: Laertes, you shall hear what these letters say. Messenger, leave us.
(the Messenger exits)
(Claudius continues, reading a letter):
High and mighty,- You shall know I am set naked on your kingdom.
Tomorrow I shall beg permission to see your kingly eyes, when I shall, first
asking your pardon, there, to you, relate the reason for my sudden,
and even more strange, return.
Claudius: What does this mean, are all of them come back, too?- Or is it some trick, and no such thing has happened?
- Laertes: Do you recognize the handwriting?
- Clau: It's Hamlet's writing. Naked?
- And in a postscript here, he says: "alone."
Can you direct me, about what it means?
- Laer: I am at a loss, my Lord. But let him come.
- It warms the genuine sickness in my heart
That I live, and can tell him to his face:
"This is what you did!"
(Laertes imitates stabbing Hamlet with a sword)
Claudius: If it is so, Laertes -
- And how could it be otherwise, than so -
Will you be led by me?
- Laertes: Yes, my Lord, as long as you don't lead me to be peaceful.
- Clau: I'll lead you to your own peace, if Hamlet has returned.
- As the King who ordered his voyage to England - and since he intends
Not to complete it - I will manipulate him
Into an action, that I have ready now in my plan,
Under which he'll have no choice but to fall.
And, for his death, no whisper of blame will breathe on me,
But even his mother will make no accusation because of the scheme,
And will call it an accident.
- Laer: My Lord, I will be ruled by you,
- And I'd prefer if you could set it up so
I can be the instrument, of his death.
- Clau: It works out right for you.
- You have been much talked about, while you were gone,
And where Hamlet could hear, for an ability you have
Where they say you are outstanding. The rest of you
Put together, didn't draw such envy from him
As that one thing did, even though in my opinion
It's not a valuable attainment.
- Laer: What ability is that, my Lord?
- Clau: It's a highly admired hobby for a youth,
- But necessary, too. For, youth suits
The easy-going and careless style that it has, as much
As mature age suits its expensive coats, and clothing that
Symbolizes soundness and seriousness. Two months ago,
A gentleman from Normandy was here.
I have personally seen, in service against the French,
They can do well on horseback. But this cavalier
Rode like magic, as though he grew out of his saddle,
And he made his horse do such wondrous things
As if he were a part of the horse, and combined his own nature
With that of the brave beast. He so excelled, I thought,
That even in my imagination about tricks I could do on horseback,
I come up short of what he really did.
- Laer: He was a Norman, you say?
- Clau: Yes, a Norman.
- Laer: I'll swear, it must have been Lamord!
- Clau: Yes, the very same.
- Laer: I know him well. He's the jewel, indeed,
- And gem of all the nation, of France.
- Clau: He admitted your ability,
- And gave you such a masterly recommendation
For your art and exercise in your fencing skill -
And for your skill with a rapier, especially -
That he said right out loud it would be a sight to behold
If he saw anyone to match you. The fencers of their nation,
He swore, had neither the motion, the guard, nor the eye, to equal you
If you were their opponent. Sir, at hearing this report from him,
Hamlet was so imbued with envy
That he could do nothing but wish and beg
For you to come over, so he could practice with you, right away.
Now, getting to the point about this . . .
- Laer: Yes, what about it, my Lord?
- Clau: Laertes, was your father dear to you?
- Or are you like only a painting of sorrow,
The appearance, without the heart?
- Laer: Why do you ask that?
- Clau: It isn't that I think you didn't love your father,
- It's only that I know, love is begun at a certain time,
And I see proof that with the passage of time,
Time, itself, diminishes the spark and fire of love.
There lives within the hot flame of love, itself,
A kind of timer, or trimming, that will abate love.
And nothing stays at the same excellence, always.
Because goodness, when it grows into an illness,
Drowns in its own excess. What we would wish to do,
We should do it when we want to. Because, our "would" changes,
And faces obstacles and delays in as much quantity
As there are tongues to speak against us, hands to stop us, and accidents,
And then our "should" becomes like a wastrel's sigh,
That hurts our resolve by easing our minds. But, getting to the point,
Hamlet has come back. What act would you undertake
To prove that you are, indeed, your father's son,
And it isn't just words to you?
- Laer: I'd cut his throat in church.
- Clau: Indeed, no place should offer sanctuary for murder.
- Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes,
Will you do this? Stay secluded in your rooms, and to
Hamlet, now returned, we'll make it known you've come back.
We'll have someone praise your excellence at fencing,
Adding further praise to the praise
The Frenchman gave you. We'll bring you, ultimately, together
With a wager on the contest. He, being without care,
Very polite, and innocent of all scheming,
Will not closely examine the foils, so that with ease,
Or with a little manipulation, you can choose
A sword with a sharp point, and in the flurry of the contest,
You can stab him in revenge for your father.
- Laer: I'll do it!
- And to insure it works, I'll poison my sword.
I bought an ointment from a mountebank
That's so deadly, you need only to dip a knife in it, and then
Where a cut with the knife draws blood, not even the rarest poultice,
Made from all the medicinal herbs that have curing power,
Collected during the magic of moonlight, can save the person from death
Who is only scratched with the knife. I'll touch up the sword point
With this poison, so that if I injure him at all, it will be his death.
- Clau: Let's think even further about this.
- We should consider what opportunity of both time and means
May suit our ends, if this plan fails. Since,
If our purpose becomes apparent, because of a failed attempt,
It would be better not to try it. Therefore, this plot
Should have a backup plan or second plan, that might still work
If this idea goes bad when we attempt it. So, let me see . . .
I'll make a solemn wager on your skill with the sword . . .
Ah, I know what. When your exercise makes you hot and dry,
(And you should make your actions more vigorous, to achieve that,)
So that he wants a drink, I'll have reserved for him
A cup of wine, poisoned for the occasion. When he sips from it,
If he has by some chance escaped your poisoned sword thrust,
We may achieve our goal in that way. But wait, what noise do I hear?
(Gertrude enters)
Gertrude: One woeful event steps upon the heels of another,- So closely do they follow! Your sister is drowned, Laertes!
- Laertes: Drowned!? Oh, where!?
- Gert: There is a willow tree that leans over the brook, and
- That reflects its grayish-white leaves in the glassy water.
There, with the willow twigs, she made fantastic garlands,
Of crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples
That rude shepherds give a coarser name,
But our insensitive sort of maidens do call them, "dead men's fingers."
There, on the bending boughs of the tree, with her crown wreaths of flowers,
As she climbed to hang them, a malicious branch broke, and
Then down went her prized flowers and herself,
Falling into the watery brook. Her clothes spread wide,
And, almost like a mermaid, they kept her afloat for a time,
While she sang parts of old morning songs,
Like a person who didn't even know she was in danger,
Or like a creature who was native and endowed
To live in water. But it wasn't long
Until her clothes grew heavy as they soaked, and they
Pulled the poor wretch down from her melodious song
To muddy death.
- Laer: Alas, then she is drowned?
- Gert: Drowned, drowned.
- Laer: You have had too much of water, poor Ophelia,
- And therefore I hold back my tears. But yet,
It's self-deception by men to pretend we don't cry. Nature enforces her custom.
Let those who'd see shame, say what they will. When my tears are dry,
I'll no more act like a woman. Adieu, my Lord.
I have a fiery speech that I wanted to blaze away with,
But this misfortune has drowned it.
(Laertes exits)
Claudius: Let's follow him, Gertrude.- There was so much I had to do to calm his rage,
And now I'm afraid this will start his anger, again.
Therefore, let's follow him.
(they exit)
End of Scene 18
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(Regained)