« AnteriorContinuar »
King. The sun no soonershall the mountains touch, But we will ship him hence: and this vile deed We must, with all our majesty and skill, Both countenance and excuse.—Ho! Guildenstern ?
Enter GUILDENstERN, and RoseNCRANTz.
Friends both, go join you with some further aid:
Another Room in the Palace.
Ham. –Safely stow'd,
Ros. [Within..] Hamlet ! Lord Hamlet !
Ham. What noise who calls on Hamlet O, here they come.
Enter RoseNCRANTz, and GUILDENstERN.
Ros. What have you done, my lord, with the dead body ?
Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin.
Ros. Tell us where 'tis; that we may take it thence, and bear it to the chapel.
Ham. Do not believe it.
Ros. Believe what Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a spunge!—what replication should be made by the son of a king? Ros. Take you me for a spunge, my lord Ham. Ay, sir; that soaks up the king's countenance, his rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the king best service in the end; he keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouth'd to be last swallow'd : When he needs what you have glean'd, it is but squeezing you, and, spunge, you shall be dry again. Ros. I understand you not, my lord. Ham. I am glad of it: A knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear. Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the body is, and go with us to the king. Flam. Bring me to him. [Ereunt RoseNCRANTz, HAMLET, and GUILDENSTERN.
King. How dangerous is it, that this man goes loose! Yet must not we put the strong law on him: He's lov’d of the distracted multitude, Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes; And, where 'tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd, But never the offence.
How now what hath befallen P
Ros. Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord, We cannot get from him. King. But where is he Ros. Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure. King. Bring him before us. Ros. Ho, Guildenstern bring in my lord.
Enter GUILDENsTERN and HAMLET.
King. Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius
Ham. At supper.
King. At supper ? Where
Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten ; a certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all creatures else, to fat us; and we fat ourselves for maggots: Your fat king, and your lean beggar, is but variable service ; two dishes, but to one table; that's the end.
King. Where is Polonius
Ham. In Heaven; send thither to see: if your messenger find him not there, seek him in the other place yourself—But if, indeed, you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stair into the lobby.
King. Go, seek him there.
King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety, Must send thee hence; Therefore prepare thyself:The bark is ready, and the wind at help, For England.
Ham. For England 1
King. Ay, Hamlet.
King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes.
Ham. I see a cherub, that sees them.—But, come ; for England 1–Farewell, dear mother. King. Thy loving father, Hamlet. Ham. My mother:-Father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England. - [Erit HAMLET. King. Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard ; Away; for every thing is seal’d and done. [Erit Rose.NcRANTz. And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught, Let it be testified in Hamlet's death. [Erit.
- Another Room in the Palace.
Enter the QUEEN and HoRATIo.
Queen. I will not speak with her.
Hor. She is importunate; indeed, distract: "Twere good she were spoken with ; for she may strew Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
Queen. Let her come in. [Erit HoRATIo. Oph. [Without..] Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark
Queen. How now, Ophelia
Oph. [Sings.] How should I your true love know
Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song? Oph. Say you? may, pray you, mark,
[Sings.] He is dead and gone, lady,
Queen. Nay, but, Ophelia,
[Sings.] White his shroud as the mountain snow
King. How do you, pretty lady ? Oph. Well, Heaven 'ield you ! They say, the owl was a baker's daughter. We know what we are, but know not what we may be. King. Conceit upon her father. Oph. Pray, let's have no words of this; but when they ask you, what it means, say this;–
[Sings.] Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's day,
King. Pretty Ophelial
[Sings.] Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes,
King. How long hath she been thus? Oph. I hope, all will be well. We must be patient: but I cannot choose but weep, to think, they