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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 2 [~ Too Too Sallied ~] (Act 1 Scene 2)

Setting: Inside the Castle;

The Throne Room;
Daytime, morning.

(a flourish of trumpets sounds;

King Claudius and Queen Gertrude enter;
Cornelius and Voltemand enter;
Polonius and Laertes enter;
Hamlet enters;
courtiers, guards, and servants enter)

Claudius: Though yet of Hamlet, our dear brother's, death,

The memory be green, and that it us befitted
To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom
To be contracted in one brow of woe,
Yet, so far hath discretion fought with nature,
That we with wisest sorrow think on him
Together with remembrance of ourselves;
Therefore, our sometime sister, now our Queen,
The imperial jointress to this warlike state,
Have we, as 'twere, with a defeated joy,
With an auspicious, and a dropping eye,
With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage,
In equal scale weighing delight and dole,
Taken to wife; nor have we herein barred
Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
With this affair along (for all, our thanks;)
Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbrasse,
Holding a weak supposal of our worth,
Or thinking by our late, dear brother's death,
Our state to be disjoint, and out of frame,
Colleagued with this dream of his advantage,
He hath not failed to pester us with message
Importing the surrender of those lands
Lost by his father, with all bands of law,
To our most valiant brother, so much for him;
Now, for ourself, and for this time of meeting,
Thus much the business is: we have here writ
To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbrasse,
Who, impotent and bedrid, scarcely hears
Of this, his nephew's purpose, to suppress
His further gate herein, in that the levies,
The lists, and full proportions are all made
Out of his subject, and we here dispatch
You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltemand,
For bearers of this greeting to old Norway,
Giving you no further personal power
To business with the King, more than the scope
Of these delated articles allow;
Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty.

Cornelius and Voltemand: In that, and all things, will we show our duty.

Clau: We doubt it nothing; heartily farewell.

(Cornelius and Voltemand exit)

(Claudius continues):

And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?
You told us of some suit, what is it, Laertes?
You cannot speak of reason to the Dane,
And lose your voice; what would'st thou beg, Laertes,
That shall not be my offer, not thy asking?
The head is not more native to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father;
What would'st thou have, Laertes?

Laertes: Dread my Lord:

Your leave and favor to return to France,
From whence, thou willingly I came to Denmark,
To show my duty in your coronation,
Yet now I must confess, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France,
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.

Clau: Have you your father's leave, what says Polonius?

Polonius: He hath, my Lord, wrung from me my slow leave,

By laborsome petition, and at last,
Upon his will I sealed my hard consent;
I do beseech you, give him leave to go.

Clau: Take thy fair hour, Laertes, time be thine,

And thy best graces spend it at thy will;

(Laertes exits)

(Claudius continues):

But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son . . .

Hamlet (aside): A little more than kin, and less than kind.

Clau: How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

Hamlet: Not so much, my Lord, I am too much in the sun.

Gertrude: Good Hamlet, cast they nightly color off,

And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark;
Do not forever with thy veiled lids
Seek for thy noble father in the dust;
Thou know'st 'tis common all that lives must die,
Passing through nature to eternity.

Hamlet: Aye, Madam, it is common.

Gert: If it be,

Why seems it so particular with thee?

Hamlet: "Seems," Madam? Nay, it is; I know not "seems."

'Tis not alone my inky cloak, cooled mother,
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage,
Together with all forms, moods, chapes of grief,
That can denote me truly; these indeed "seem,"
For they are actions that a man might play,
But I have that within which passes show;
These, but the trappings and the suits of woe.

Clau: 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,

To give these mourning duties to your father,
But you must know your father lost a father,
That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound
In filial obligation for some term
To do obsequious sorrow; but to persevere
In obstinate condolement is a course
Of impious stubbornness, 'tis unmanly grief;
It shows a will most incorrect to Heaven,
A heart unfortified, a mind impatient,
An understanding simple and unschooled,
For what we know, must be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to sense;
Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
Take it to heart? Fie, 'tis a fault to Heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason most absurd, whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried
From the first course till he that died today;
This must be so; we pray you throw to earth
This unprevailing woe, and think of us
As of a father, for, let the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our throne,
And with no less nobility of love
Than that which dearest father bears his son,
Do I impart toward you, for your intent
In going back to school in Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our desire,
And we beseech you, bend you to remain
Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.

Gertrude: Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet,

I pray thee, stay with us, go not to Wittenberg.

Hamlet: I shall, in all my best, obey you, Madam.

Clau: Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply,

Be as ourself, in Denmark; Madam, come,
This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart, in grace whereof,
No jocund health that Denmark drinks today,
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell;
And the King's rouse, the heaven shall bruit again,
Respeaking earthly thunder; come away.

(a flourish of trumpets sounds;

Hamlet stays;
everyone else exits)

Hamlet: Oh, that this too too sallied flesh would melt,

Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew;
Or that the everlasting had not fixed
His canon 'gainst seal slaughter; God, God,
How wary, stale, flat and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world;
Fie on it, ah fie, 'tis an unweeded garden
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
Possess it, merely, that it should come thus;
But two months dead, nay, not so much, not two;
So excellent a King, that was to this,
Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother,
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly; heaven and earth,
Must I remember! Why, she should hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on, and yet within a month . . .
Let me not think on it; frailty, thy name is woman;
A little month, or ere those shoes were old
With which she followed my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears; why she, even she -
Oh, God, a beast that wants discourse of reason
Would have mourned longer - married with my uncle,
My father's brother, but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules; within a month,
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married - oh, most wicked speed - to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets;
It is not, nor it cannot come to good,
But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue.

(Horatio, Marcellus, and Barnardo enter)

Horatio: Hail to your Lordship.

Hamlet: I am glad to see you well; Horatio, or I do forget my self.

Hora: The same, my Lord, and your poor servant, ever.

Hamlet: Sir, my good friend, I'll change that name with you;

And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?
Marcellus.

Marcellus: My good Lord.

Hamlet: I am very glad to see you; (good even, sir.)

But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?

Hora: A truant disposition, good my Lord.

Hamlet: I would not hear your enemy say so,

Nor shall you do my ear that violence
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself; I know you are no truant,
But what is your affair in Elsinore?
We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.

Hora: My Lord, I came to see your father's funeral.

Hamlet: I prithee, do not mock me, fellow student;

I think it was to see my mother's wedding.

Hora: Indeed, my Lord, it followed hard upon.

Hamlet: Thrift, thrift, Horatio: The funeral-baked meats

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables;
Would I had met my dearest foe in Heaven,
Ere ever I had seen that day, Horatio;
My father, methinks I see my father.

Hora: Oh? Where, my Lord?

Hamlet: In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Hora: I saw him once; he was a goodly King.

Hamlet: He was a man, take him for all in all;

I shall not look upon his like again.

Hora: My Lord, I think I saw him yesternight.

Hamlet: Saw, who?

Hora: My Lord, the King, your father.

Hamlet: The King, my father?

Hora: Season your admiration for a while

With an attent ear, 'til I may deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.

Hamlet: For God's love, let me hear!

Hora: Two nights together had these gentlemen,

Marcellus and Barnardo, on their watch,
In the dead waste and middle of the night,
Been thus encountered: a figure like your father
Armed at point, exactly cap-a-pie,
Appears before them, and with solemn march,
Goes slow and stately by them; thrice he walked
By their oppressed and fear-surprised eyes,
Within his truncheon's length, whil'st they, distilled
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
Stand dumb and speak not to him; this to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did,
And I with them the third night kept the watch;
Whereas, they had delivered both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good;
The apparition comes; I knew your father,
These hands are not more like.

Hamlet: But, where was this?

Marcellus: My Lord, upon the platform where we watch.

Hamlet: Did you not speak to it?

Hora: My Lord, I did,

But answer, it made none; yet once methought
It lifted up its head, and did address
Itself to motion like as it would speak,
But even then, the morning cock crew loud,
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
And vanished from our sight.

Hamlet: 'Tis very strange.

Hora: As I do live, my honored Lord, 'tis true,

And we did think it writ down in our duty
To let you know of it.

Hamlet: Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me;

Hold you the watch tonight?

(They all reply): We do, my Lord.

Hamlet: Armed, say you?

(They reply): Armed, my Lord.

Hamlet: From top to toe?

(They reply): My Lord, from head to foot.

Hamlet: Then saw you not his face.

Hora: Oh, yes, my Lord, he wore his beaver up.

Hamlet: What looked he, frowningly?

Hora: A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.

Hamlet: Pale, or red?

Hora: Nay, very pale.

Hamlet: And fixed his eyes upon you?

Hora: Most constantly.

Hamlet: I would I had been there.

Hora: It would have much amazed you.

Hamlet: Very like, very like; stayed it long?

Hora: While one, with moderate haste, might tell a hundredth.

(Marcellus and Barnardo): Longer, longer.

Horatio: Not when I saw it.

Hamlet: His beard was grizzled, no?

Hora: It was as I have seen it in his life:

A sable, silvered.

Hamlet: I will watch tonigh',

Perchance 'twill wake again.

Hora: I warrant it will.

Hamlet: If it assume my noble father's person

I'll speak to it, though hell, itself, should gape,
And bid me hold my peace; I pray you all,
If you have hitherto concealed this sight,
Let it be tenable in your silence, still;
And whatsomever else shall hap' tonight,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue;
I will requite your loves, so fare you well;
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.

(They reply): Our duty to your honor.

(Horatio, Marcellus, and Barnardo exit)

Hamlet: Your loves, as mine to you, farewell;

My father's spirit (in arms;) all is not well;
I doubt some foul play; would the night were come,
'Til then, sit still, my soul; fond deeds will rise
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them to men's eyes.

(Hamlet exits)

End of Scene 2

. The Tragedy of . H A M L E T . Prince of Denmark .

(In simplified modern English translation)

Scene 2 [~ Too Too Sallied ~] (Act 1 Scene 2)

Setting: Inside the Castle;

The Throne Room;
Daytime, morning.

(a flourish of trumpets sounds;

King Claudius and Queen Gertrude enter;
Cornelius and Voltemand enter;
Polonius and Laertes enter;
Hamlet enters;
courtiers, guards, and servants enter)

Claudius: Although the death of my dear brother, Hamlet Sr,

Is a fresh memory, and it has befitted me
To have grief in my heart, and for my whole kingdom
To agree to wear the same sad face as me,
Yet, good judgment has fought so much against natural feelings,
That I think of him with the wisest kind of sorrow,
Combined with thinking about myself.
Therefore, my former sister-in-law, who is now my Queen,
The royal partner in this warlike situation,
I have with - as it were - a defeated joy,
With eyes looking both upward in happiness and down in grief,
With glee at the funeral, and with sorrow in marriage,
Equally considering both happiness and sadness,
Taken her to be my wife. Nor have I forgotten, in this speech,
Your better advice and counsel, which have freely gone along
With this affair (for all of which, I thank you all.)
Now it follows, as you know, that young Fortinbrasse,
Who holds a low opinion of my worth,
Or who thinks that because of my dear brother's death
Our nation is divided and not securely bordered, and
Together with this fantasy that he has an advantage,
He has continued to pester me with the message
Concerning the surrender to him of the land that was
Lost by his father, under the law,
To my valiant brother. That's enough about him.
Now, for me, and at this time of the meeting,
This is the current business: I have written this official letter
To Norway (the uncle of young Fortinbrasse)
Who is powerless and sick in bed, and hears little
Of his nephew's intention - to have him forbid
Fortinbrasse's further access here, because taxes are levied,
A census taken, and administrative districts have been drawn
For that land; and I hereby dispatch
You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltemand,
As ambassadors to take this letter to old Norway, and
I give you no further personal authority
On business with the King of Norway, to go beyond
What these denunciatory articles allow.
Farewell, and let your dutifulness be shown by your speed.

(Cornelius and Voltemand): In that, and in all things we will show our duty.

Clau: I do not doubt it at all, and bid you hearty farewell.

(Cornelius and Voltemand exit)

(Claudius continues):

And now, Laertes, what's new with you?
You had mentioned some request, what is it, Laertes?
You cannot reasonably speak to the King of Denmark
If you lose your voice. So, what would you beg for, Laertes,
That I can't offer, and that you can't ask?
The head is as naturally connected to the heart, and
The hand is as useful in feeding the mouth,
As the throne of Denmark is useful and connected to your father.
What do you wish, Laertes?

Laertes: My revered lord,

I request your permission and favor that I may return to France,
From where, though I willingly came back to Denmark,
To show my duty at your coronation,
Yet, now I must say, I have done that duty, so
My thoughts and wishes yearn again for France,
And I submit my desire for your gracious leave and pardon.

Clau: Do you have your father's permission? What do you say, Polonius?

Polonius: My lord, my son has slowly wrung permission from me,

With his many repeated requests, and at last
I have given my firm approval to his desire.
I do beg you, give him permission to go.

Clau: Take your holiday, Laertes, the time is yours,

And in your best manner spend it as you please.

(Laertes exits)

(Claudius continues):

But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son. . .

Hamlet (aside): A little more than kin, and less than kind.

Clau: Why is it that the clouds still hang over you, and you look so sad?

Hamlet: It isn't that so much, my Lord, it's that I'm too much in the sun.

Gertrude: Good Hamlet, cast off your gloomy mood

And let your eyes look friendly toward Denmark.
Do not always look through downcast eyes
To search for your noble father in the dust.
You know it is common for all that lives to die,
As they go through the natural world to eternity.

Hamlet: Yes, Madam, it is normal.

Gert: Since that's how things are,

Why does it seem to bother you in particular so much?

Hamlet: "Seem," Madam? No, it really does. I don't understand "seem."

It isn't only my black cloak, unfeeling mother,
Nor is it these customary clothes of black for mourning,
Nor my deep, involuntary sighs,
No, nor is it the copious tears in my eyes,
Nor the dejected expression on my face,
Combined with all the forms, moods, and coverings of grief,
That can truly show my devotion. These indeed only "seem,"
Since they are things that a man might pretend,
But I also have something within me that I cannot show.
These outward things are only the trappings of a heartfelt woe.

Clau: It's sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,

To do the duty of mourning for your father.
But you must know your father lost a father,
That lost father lost his father, and each time the son was bound
In childlike obligation, for a while,
To obsequiously show sorrow. But to continue
In obstinate grief is a behavior
Of irreverent stubbornness. It is an unmanly grief.
It shows a willfulness which is most incorrect to God,
A weak heart, an impatient mind,
A simple-minded and uneducated awareness.
For what we know, it must be true, and it's as commonplace
As even the most vulgar thing we can perceive.
Why should we, in peevish rebellion,
Take it to heart? For shame, it is disobedience to God's will, and
An offense against the dead, a crime against nature.
Grief is an absurdity to reason, since the common theme
Is that fathers always die, and everyone has always cried,
From the first time it ever happened right up until today.
This must be so. Please cast aside
Your unpersuasive woe, and think of me
As your father. For, let the world take note,
You are the one closest to my throne,
And, with no less nobility in my love
Than that which the most affectionate father has for his son,
I do tell you, about your intention
To go back to school in Wittenberg, that
It is most contrary to my wish,
And I beg you, incline yourself to remain
Here, where I can happily and comfortably look upon you as
My highest courtier, my cousin, and my son.

Gertrude: Don't let your mother's prayers go unanswered, Hamlet.

Please stay with us, do not go to Wittenberg.

Hamlet: I shall obey you the very best I can, Madam.

Claudius: Why, it is a loving and a handsome reply.

Be like me, in Denmark. Madam, come with me.
This polite and voluntary agreement by Hamlet
Makes my heart glad. In celebration of that,
For every happy toast that I drink today
I'll order the great cannons to "speak" to the clouds.
During the King's celebration the heavens will boom, again,
To echo the earthly thunder. Let's go.

(a flourish of trumpets sounds;

Hamlet stays;
everyone else exits)

Hamlet: Oh, that this too, too sallied flesh would melt,

Thaw and resolve itself into a dew,
Or that God had not made
His religious injunctions against suicide. God, God,
How mercenary, stale, flat and unprofitable
Everything in the world is, it seems to me.
Shame on me, oh, shame! The world is an unweeded garden
That goes to seed. Things that are rank and gross in their nature
Possess the world, purely that, is what makes it seem so bad.
Only two months dead. No, not that long, not even two.
He was such an excellent King; compared to this one, a
Super-human versus a sub-human, and so loving to my mother,
That he would not permit the winds in the air
To blow too roughly on her face. By heaven and earth,
I must remember! Why, my mother would cling to him
As if greater appetite came from
More feeding. And yet within a month . . .
Oh, I don't want to think about it. Frailty, is the word for a woman.
Only a short month it was, even before the shoes were scuffed
That she wore when she followed my poor father's body.
She was all tears then, like Niobe. Why would she, even she -
Oh, God, a beast that lacks rational ability of speech
Would have mourned longer - marry my uncle? He's
My father's brother, but no more like my father
Than I'm like Hercules. Within a month,
Even before the salt of her very unvirtuous tears
Had been washed out of her irritated eyes,
She married, (oh, with most wicked speed!) and climbed
With such quickness and ease into an incestuous bed.
It is not good, and cannot lead to anything good.
But my heart must break, because I have to be quiet and accept it.

(Horatio, Marcellus, and Barnardo enter)

Horatio: Hail, to your Lordship.

Hamlet: I'm glad to see you well - Horatio! - unless I've forgotten myself.

Hora: That's me, my Lord, your poor servant, ever.

Hamlet: Sir, my good friend, I'd trade names with you.

And what brings you from Wittenberg, Horatio?
Hello, Marcellus.

Marcellus: Hello, my good Lord.

Hamlet: I am very glad to see you. And, good evening, sir.

But again, Horatio, in truth, what brings you from Wittenberg?

Hora: I'm absent without leave, my Lord.

Hamlet (laughs): I'd never hear your enemy say so.

Nor will you do such harm to my ear
To make it believe your own report
Against yourself. I know you're not the kind to be truant,
But what is your business in Elsinore?
By the way, we'll teach you how to get drunk before you leave.

Hora: My Lord, I came to see your father's funeral.

Hamlet: Please don't tease me, my fellow student,

I think it was to see my mother's wedding.

Hora: Indeed, my Lord, that quickly followed.

Hamlet: Thrift, Horatio, thrift: The leftovers from the funeral

Coldly supplied the marriage feast, so we saved money.
I'd rather have met my worst enemy in Heaven,
Than have seen the day of that marriage, Horatio.
My father, I think I see my father.

Hora: Where, my Lord!?

Hamlet: In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Hora: I met him in person once. He was a good, and godly King.

Hamlet: He was a man, take him for all that a man can be.

I will not see anybody like him again.

Hora: My Lord, I think I saw him last night.

Hamlet: Saw who?

Hora: My Lord - the King, your father.

Hamlet: The King, my father?

Hora: Delay your wonder about it for a while,

And listen with an attentive ear, until I can tell you,
With these gentlemen as witnesses,
About this marvel.

Hamlet: For god's sake, let's hear it!

Hora: For two consecutive nights these gentlemen,

Marcellus and Barnardo, during their watch,
In the desolate, dead, middle of the night,
Encountered this: a figure like your father
Armed ready for battle, correctly, from head to foot,
Appeared before them. It marched solemnly, and
Went slowly and regally in front of them. Three times it walked
By, before their overpowered, surprised, and fearing eyes, as
Close as the length of its royal scepter, while they, shaking
Almost like jelly with their fear,
Stood silent and could not speak to him. This
They told me in dreadful secrecy.
I went with them the third night to keep watch.
Then, I saw they had spoken accurately about the time, and the
Shape of the thing. Their words proved true and good.
The apparition does appear. I met your father.
It's more like your father than my hands are like each other.

Hamlet: But where was this?

Marcellus: My Lord, at the guard post where we keep watch.

Hamlet: Didn't you speak to it?

Hora: I did, my Lord,

But it made no answer. Yet once, I thought,
It raised its head, and began
To act as if it might speak.
But just then a rooster crowed loudly,
And at the sound the ghost went quickly away
And vanished from our sight.

Hamlet: That's very strange.

Hora: Upon the oath of my life, my honored Lord, it is true.

And we thought it must be dictated in our duty
To let you know about it.

Hamlet: Of course, sirs, but it troubles me.

Do you have the watch duty tonight?

(They all nod and say): We do, my Lord.

Hamlet: You say that it was armored?

(They all confirm): Yes, armored, my Lord.

Hamlet: From top to toe?

(They all agree): My Lord, from head to foot.

Hamlet: Then you couldn't see its face.

Hora: Oh yes, my Lord, it wore its helmet with the faceplate raised.

Hamlet: Was he frowning?

Hora: A facial expression more sorrowful than angry.

Hamlet: Was the complexion pale, or red?

Hora: Not red, very pale.

Hamlet: And did he stare at you?

Hora: Yes, very constantly.

Hamlet: I wish I had been there.

Hora: It would have greatly amazed you.

Hamlet: Very likely it would have. Did it stay long?

Hora: Long enough to count to a hundred fairly fast.

(Both Marcellus and Barnardo): No, longer, longer than that.

Hora: Not when I saw it.

Hamlet: His beard was grizzled, wasn't it?

Hora: It was as I saw it when he was alive,

Black with some silver.

Hamlet: I will watch with you tonight.

Perhaps it will awaken again.

Hora: I'd guarantee it will.

Hamlet: If it takes the shape of my noble father's person,

I'll speak to it, even if Hell, itself, should open up its mouth
And tell me to be quiet. Please, all of you,
If you have not told anybody else what you saw,
Keep silent about it, still.
And whatever else happens tonight,
Pay attention to it, but don't speak of it.
I will return your friendship, but now I'll say farewell.
At the guard post, between eleven and twelve o'clock,
I'll visit you.

(All together): Our duty to your honor.

(Horatio, Marcellus and Barnardo exit)

Hamlet (calling after them): I return your love, as mine to you, farewell.

So, my father's spirit, in armor - they say. All is not well.
I suspect some foul play. I wish tonight were already here,
Until then, wait, my soul. Foolish deeds will rise into view
Even though the whole earth tries to hide them from men's eyes.

(Hamlet exits)

End of Scene 2

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