Hamlet, Prince of Denmark - 1

Total number of words is 4839
Total number of unique words is 1329
48.9 of words are in the 2000 most common words
64.1 of words are in the 5000 most common words
70.8 of words are in the 8000 most common words
Each bar represents the percentage of words per 1000 most common words.
THE TRAGEDY OF HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK
by William Shakespeare

Contents
ACT I
Scene I. Elsinore. A platform before the Castle.
Scene II. Elsinore. A room of state in the Castle
Scene III. A room in Polonius’s house.
Scene IV. The platform.
Scene V. A more remote part of the Castle.
ACT II
Scene I. A room in Polonius’s house.
Scene II. A room in the Castle.
ACT III
Scene I. A room in the Castle.
Scene II. A hall in the Castle.
Scene III. A room in the Castle.
Scene IV. Another room in the Castle.
ACT IV
Scene I. A room in the Castle.
Scene II. Another room in the Castle.
Scene III. Another room in the Castle.
Scene IV. A plain in Denmark.
Scene V. Elsinore. A room in the Castle.
Scene VI. Another room in the Castle.
Scene VII. Another room in the Castle.
ACT V
Scene I. A churchyard.
Scene II. A hall in the Castle.

Dramatis Personæ
HAMLET, Prince of Denmark.
CLAUDIUS, King of Denmark, Hamlet’s uncle.
The GHOST of the late king, Hamlet’s father.
GERTRUDE, the Queen, Hamlet’s mother, now wife of Claudius.
POLONIUS, Lord Chamberlain.
LAERTES, Son to Polonius.
OPHELIA, Daughter to Polonius.
HORATIO, Friend to Hamlet.
FORTINBRAS, Prince of Norway.
VOLTEMAND, Courtier.
CORNELIUS, Courtier.
ROSENCRANTZ, Courtier.
GUILDENSTERN, Courtier.
MARCELLUS, Officer.
BARNARDO, Officer.
FRANCISCO, a Soldier
OSRIC, Courtier.
REYNALDO, Servant to Polonius.
Players.
A Gentleman, Courtier.
A Priest.
Two Clowns, Grave-diggers.
A Captain.
English Ambassadors.
Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers, and Attendants.
SCENE. Elsinore.

ACT I
SCENE I. Elsinore. A platform before the Castle.
Enter Francisco and Barnardo, two sentinels.
BARNARDO. Who’s there?
FRANCISCO. Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself.
BARNARDO. Long live the King!
FRANCISCO. Barnardo?
BARNARDO. He.
FRANCISCO. You come most carefully upon your hour.
BARNARDO. ’Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed, Francisco.
FRANCISCO. For this relief much thanks. ’Tis bitter cold, And I am sick
at heart.
BARNARDO. Have you had quiet guard?
FRANCISCO. Not a mouse stirring.
BARNARDO. Well, good night. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, The
rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.
Enter Horatio and Marcellus.
FRANCISCO. I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who is there?
HORATIO. Friends to this ground.
MARCELLUS. And liegemen to the Dane.
FRANCISCO. Give you good night.
MARCELLUS. O, farewell, honest soldier, who hath reliev’d you?
FRANCISCO. Barnardo has my place. Give you good-night.
[_Exit._]
MARCELLUS. Holla, Barnardo!
BARNARDO. Say, what, is Horatio there?
HORATIO. A piece of him.
BARNARDO. Welcome, Horatio. Welcome, good Marcellus.
MARCELLUS. What, has this thing appear’d again tonight?
BARNARDO. I have seen nothing.
MARCELLUS. Horatio says ’tis but our fantasy, And will not let belief
take hold of him Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us.
Therefore I have entreated him along With us to watch the minutes of
this night, That if again this apparition come He may approve our eyes
and speak to it.
HORATIO. Tush, tush, ’twill not appear.
BARNARDO. Sit down awhile, And let us once again assail your ears, That
are so fortified against our story, What we two nights have seen.
HORATIO. Well, sit we down, And let us hear Barnardo speak of this.
BARNARDO. Last night of all, When yond same star that’s westward from
the pole, Had made his course t’illume that part of heaven Where now it
burns, Marcellus and myself, The bell then beating one—
MARCELLUS. Peace, break thee off. Look where it comes again.
Enter Ghost.
BARNARDO. In the same figure, like the King that’s dead.
MARCELLUS. Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.
BARNARDO. Looks it not like the King? Mark it, Horatio.
HORATIO. Most like. It harrows me with fear and wonder.
BARNARDO It would be spoke to.
MARCELLUS. Question it, Horatio.
HORATIO. What art thou that usurp’st this time of night, Together with
that fair and warlike form In which the majesty of buried Denmark Did
sometimes march? By heaven I charge thee speak.
MARCELLUS. It is offended.
BARNARDO. See, it stalks away.
HORATIO. Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee speak!
[_Exit Ghost._]
MARCELLUS. ’Tis gone, and will not answer.
BARNARDO. How now, Horatio! You tremble and look pale. Is not this
something more than fantasy? What think you on’t?
HORATIO. Before my God, I might not this believe Without the sensible
and true avouch Of mine own eyes.
MARCELLUS. Is it not like the King?
HORATIO. As thou art to thyself: Such was the very armour he had on
When he th’ambitious Norway combated; So frown’d he once, when in an
angry parle He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice. ’Tis strange.
MARCELLUS. Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, With martial
stalk hath he gone by our watch.
HORATIO. In what particular thought to work I know not; But in the
gross and scope of my opinion, This bodes some strange eruption to our
state.
MARCELLUS. Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows, Why this
same strict and most observant watch So nightly toils the subject of
the land, And why such daily cast of brazen cannon And foreign mart for
implements of war; Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
Does not divide the Sunday from the week. What might be toward, that
this sweaty haste Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day: Who
is’t that can inform me?
HORATIO. That can I; At least, the whisper goes so. Our last King,
Whose image even but now appear’d to us, Was, as you know, by
Fortinbras of Norway, Thereto prick’d on by a most emulate pride, Dar’d
to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet, For so this side of our
known world esteem’d him, Did slay this Fortinbras; who by a seal’d
compact, Well ratified by law and heraldry, Did forfeit, with his life,
all those his lands Which he stood seiz’d of, to the conqueror; Against
the which, a moiety competent Was gaged by our King; which had return’d
To the inheritance of Fortinbras, Had he been vanquisher; as by the
same cov’nant And carriage of the article design’d, His fell to Hamlet.
Now, sir, young Fortinbras, Of unimproved mettle, hot and full, Hath in
the skirts of Norway, here and there, Shark’d up a list of lawless
resolutes, For food and diet, to some enterprise That hath a stomach
in’t; which is no other, As it doth well appear unto our state, But to
recover of us by strong hand And terms compulsatory, those foresaid
lands So by his father lost. And this, I take it, Is the main motive of
our preparations, The source of this our watch, and the chief head Of
this post-haste and rummage in the land.
BARNARDO. I think it be no other but e’en so: Well may it sort that
this portentous figure Comes armed through our watch so like the King
That was and is the question of these wars.
HORATIO. A mote it is to trouble the mind’s eye. In the most high and
palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves
stood tenantless and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the
Roman streets; As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star, Upon whose influence
Neptune’s empire stands, Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse. And
even the like precurse of fierce events, As harbingers preceding still
the fates And prologue to the omen coming on, Have heaven and earth
together demonstrated Unto our climatures and countrymen.
Re-enter Ghost.
But, soft, behold! Lo, where it comes again! I’ll cross it, though it
blast me. Stay, illusion! If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,
Speak to me. If there be any good thing to be done, That may to thee do
ease, and grace to me, Speak to me. If thou art privy to thy country’s
fate, Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid, O speak! Or if thou hast
uphoarded in thy life Extorted treasure in the womb of earth, For
which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death, Speak of it. Stay, and
speak!
[_The cock crows._]
Stop it, Marcellus!
MARCELLUS. Shall I strike at it with my partisan?
HORATIO. Do, if it will not stand.
BARNARDO. ’Tis here!
HORATIO. ’Tis here!
[_Exit Ghost._]
MARCELLUS. ’Tis gone! We do it wrong, being so majestical, To offer it
the show of violence, For it is as the air, invulnerable, And our vain
blows malicious mockery.
BARNARDO. It was about to speak, when the cock crew.
HORATIO. And then it started, like a guilty thing Upon a fearful
summons. I have heard The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Doth
with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat Awake the god of day; and at
his warning, Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, Th’extravagant
and erring spirit hies To his confine. And of the truth herein This
present object made probation.
MARCELLUS. It faded on the crowing of the cock. Some say that ever
’gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour’s birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long; And then, they say, no
spirit dare stir abroad, The nights are wholesome, then no planets
strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm; So hallow’d and
so gracious is the time.
HORATIO. So have I heard, and do in part believe it. But look, the morn
in russet mantle clad, Walks o’er the dew of yon high eastward hill.
Break we our watch up, and by my advice, Let us impart what we have
seen tonight Unto young Hamlet; for upon my life, This spirit, dumb to
us, will speak to him. Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it, As
needful in our loves, fitting our duty?
MARCELLUS. Let’s do’t, I pray, and I this morning know Where we shall
find him most conveniently.
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE II. Elsinore. A room of state in the Castle.
Enter Claudius King of Denmark, Gertrude the Queen, Hamlet, Polonius,
Laertes, Voltemand, Cornelius, Lords and Attendant.
KING. 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, Th’imperial jointress to this warlike state, Have we, as
’twere with a defeated joy, With one auspicious and one 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 barr’d
Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone With this affair along. For
all, our thanks. Now follows, that you know young Fortinbras, 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 fail’d to pester us with message,
Importing the surrender of those lands Lost by his father, with all
bonds 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 Fortinbras, Who, impotent and
bed-rid, scarcely hears Of this his nephew’s purpose, to suppress His
further gait 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 to you no further personal power To business with the
King, more than the scope Of these dilated articles allow. Farewell;
and let your haste commend your duty.
CORNELIUS and VOLTEMAND. In that, and all things, will we show our
duty.
KING. We doubt it nothing: heartily farewell.
[_Exeunt Voltemand and Cornelius._]
And now, Laertes, what’s the news with you? You told us of some suit.
What is’t, Laertes? You cannot speak of reason to the Dane, And lose
your voice. What wouldst 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 wouldst thou have, Laertes?
LAERTES. Dread my lord, Your leave and favour to return to France, From
whence though 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.
KING. Have you your father’s leave? What says Polonius?
POLONIUS. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave By laboursome
petition; and at last Upon his will I seal’d my hard consent. I do
beseech you give him leave to go.
KING. Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine, And thy best graces
spend it at thy will! But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son—
HAMLET. [_Aside._] A little more than kin, and less than kind.
KING. How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
HAMLET. Not so, my lord, I am too much i’ the sun.
QUEEN. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, And let thine eye look
like a friend on Denmark. Do not for ever with thy vailed 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. Ay, madam, it is common.
QUEEN. 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, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy
suspiration of forc’d breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, moods,
shows 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 passeth
show; These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
KING. ’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 unschool’d; 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 corse 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.
QUEEN. 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.
KING. Why, ’tis a loving and a fair reply. Be as ourself in Denmark.
Madam, come; This gentle and unforc’d 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, Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.
[_Exeunt all but Hamlet._]
HAMLET. O that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve
itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix’d His canon
’gainst self-slaughter. O God! O God! How weary, stale, flat, and
unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on’t! Oh fie!
’tis an unweeded garden That grows to seed; things rank and gross in
nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! 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 would 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’t—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— O God! A beast that wants discourse of reason
Would have mourn’d longer,—married with mine 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. O 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.
Enter Horatio, Marcellus and Barnardo.
HORATIO. Hail to your lordship!
HAMLET. I am glad to see you well: Horatio, or I do forget myself.
HORATIO. 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?
HORATIO. 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.
HORATIO. 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.
HORATIO. Indeed, my lord, it follow’d hard upon.
HAMLET. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak’d meats Did coldly
furnish forth the marriage tables. Would I had met my dearest foe in
heaven Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio. My father,—methinks I see
my father.
HORATIO. Where, my lord?
HAMLET. In my mind’s eye, Horatio.
HORATIO. 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.
HORATIO. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
HAMLET. Saw? Who?
HORATIO. My lord, the King your father.
HAMLET. The King my father!
HORATIO. Season your admiration for a while With an attent ear, till I
may deliver Upon the witness of these gentlemen This marvel to you.
HAMLET. For God’s love let me hear.
HORATIO. Two nights together had these gentlemen, Marcellus and
Barnardo, on their watch In the dead waste and middle of the night,
Been thus encounter’d. A figure like your father, Armed at point
exactly, cap-à-pie, Appears before them, and with solemn march Goes
slow and stately by them: thrice he walk’d By their oppress’d and
fear-surprised eyes, Within his truncheon’s length; whilst they,
distill’d 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, Where, as they had deliver’d, 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?
HORATIO. My lord, I did; But answer made it none: yet once methought It
lifted up it 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 vanish’d from our sight.
HAMLET. ’Tis very strange.
HORATIO. As I do live, my honour’d 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?
Mar. and BARNARDO. We do, my lord.
HAMLET. Arm’d, say you?
Both. Arm’d, my lord.
HAMLET. From top to toe?
BOTH. My lord, from head to foot.
HAMLET. Then saw you not his face?
HORATIO. O yes, my lord, he wore his beaver up.
HAMLET. What, look’d he frowningly?
HORATIO. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
HAMLET. Pale, or red?
HORATIO. Nay, very pale.
HAMLET. And fix’d his eyes upon you?
HORATIO. Most constantly.
HAMLET. I would I had been there.
HORATIO. It would have much amaz’d you.
HAMLET. Very like, very like. Stay’d it long?
HORATIO. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
MARCELLUS and BARNARDO. Longer, longer.
HORATIO. Not when I saw’t.
HAMLET. His beard was grizzled, no?
HORATIO. It was, as I have seen it in his life, A sable silver’d.
HAMLET. I will watch tonight; Perchance ’twill walk again.
HORATIO. I warrant you 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 conceal’d this sight, Let it be tenable in your
silence still; And whatsoever else shall hap tonight, Give it an
understanding, but no tongue. I will requite your loves. So, fare ye
well. Upon the platform ’twixt eleven and twelve, I’ll visit you.
ALL. Our duty to your honour.
HAMLET. Your loves, as mine to you: farewell.
[_Exeunt Horatio, Marcellus and Barnardo._]
My father’s spirit in arms! All is not well; I doubt some foul play:
would the night were come! Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds
will rise, Though all the earth o’erwhelm them, to men’s eyes.
[_Exit._]
SCENE III. A room in Polonius’s house.
Enter Laertes and Ophelia.
LAERTES. My necessaries are embark’d. Farewell. And, sister, as the
winds give benefit And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, But let me
hear from you.
OPHELIA. Do you doubt that?
LAERTES. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, Hold it a fashion
and a toy in blood; A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not
permanent, sweet, not lasting; The perfume and suppliance of a minute;
No more.
OPHELIA. No more but so?
LAERTES. Think it no more. For nature crescent does not grow alone In
thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes, The inward service of the
mind and soul Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now, And now no
soil nor cautel doth besmirch The virtue of his will; but you must
fear, His greatness weigh’d, his will is not his own; For he himself is
subject to his birth: He may not, as unvalu’d persons do, Carve for
himself; for on his choice depends The sanctity and health of this
whole state; And therefore must his choice be circumscrib’d Unto the
voice and yielding of that body Whereof he is the head. Then if he says
he loves you, It fits your wisdom so far to believe it As he in his
particular act and place May give his saying deed; which is no further
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. Then weigh what loss your
honour may sustain If with too credent ear you list his songs, Or lose
your heart, or your chaste treasure open To his unmaster’d importunity.
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister; And keep you in the rear of
your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire. The chariest maid
is prodigal enough If she unmask her beauty to the moon. Virtue itself
scopes not calumnious strokes: The canker galls the infants of the
spring Too oft before their buttons be disclos’d, And in the morn and
liquid dew of youth Contagious blastments are most imminent. Be wary
then, best safety lies in fear. Youth to itself rebels, though none
else near.
OPHELIA. I shall th’effect of this good lesson keep As watchman to my
heart. But good my brother, Do not as some ungracious pastors do, Show
me the steep and thorny way to heaven; Whilst like a puff’d and
reckless libertine Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, And
recks not his own rede.
LAERTES. O, fear me not. I stay too long. But here my father comes.
Enter Polonius.
A double blessing is a double grace; Occasion smiles upon a second
leave.
POLONIUS. Yet here, Laertes? Aboard, aboard, for shame. The wind sits
in the shoulder of your sail, And you are stay’d for. There, my
blessing with you.
[_Laying his hand on Laertes’s head._]
And these few precepts in thy memory Look thou character. Give thy
thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportion’d thought his act. Be thou
familiar, but by no means vulgar. Those friends thou hast, and their
adoption tried, Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel; But do
not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch’d, unfledg’d
comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in, Bear’t that
th’opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy
voice: Take each man’s censure, but reserve thy judgment. Costly thy
habit as thy purse can buy, But not express’d in fancy; rich, not
gaudy: For the apparel oft proclaims the man; And they in France of the
best rank and station Are of a most select and generous chief in that.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be: For loan oft loses both itself and
friend; And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all: to
thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou
canst not then be false to any man. Farewell: my blessing season this
in thee.
LAERTES. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.
POLONIUS. The time invites you; go, your servants tend.
LAERTES. Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well What I have said to you.
OPHELIA. ’Tis in my memory lock’d, And you yourself shall keep the key
of it.
LAERTES. Farewell.
[_Exit._]
POLONIUS. What is’t, Ophelia, he hath said to you?
OPHELIA. So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.
POLONIUS. Marry, well bethought: ’Tis told me he hath very oft of late
Given private time to you; and you yourself Have of your audience been
most free and bounteous. If it be so,—as so ’tis put on me, And that in
way of caution,—I must tell you You do not understand yourself so
clearly As it behoves my daughter and your honour. What is between you?
Give me up the truth.
OPHELIA. He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders Of his affection
to me.
POLONIUS. Affection! Pooh! You speak like a green girl, Unsifted in
such perilous circumstance. Do you believe his tenders, as you call
them?
OPHELIA. I do not know, my lord, what I should think.
POLONIUS. Marry, I’ll teach you; think yourself a baby; That you have
ta’en these tenders for true pay, Which are not sterling. Tender
yourself more dearly; Or,—not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,
Roaming it thus,—you’ll tender me a fool.
OPHELIA. My lord, he hath importun’d me with love In honourable
fashion.
POLONIUS. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.
OPHELIA. And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, With almost
all the holy vows of heaven.
POLONIUS. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know, When the blood
burns, how prodigal the soul Lends the tongue vows: these blazes,
daughter, Giving more light than heat, extinct in both, Even in their
promise, as it is a-making, You must not take for fire. From this time
Be something scanter of your maiden presence; Set your entreatments at
a higher rate Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet, Believe so
You have read 1 text from English literature.
Next - Hamlet, Prince of Denmark - 2
  • Parts
  • Hamlet, Prince of Denmark - 1
    Total number of words is 4839
    Total number of unique words is 1329
    48.9 of words are in the 2000 most common words
    64.1 of words are in the 5000 most common words
    70.8 of words are in the 8000 most common words
    Each bar represents the percentage of words per 1000 most common words.
  • Hamlet, Prince of Denmark - 2
    Total number of words is 4917
    Total number of unique words is 1333
    47.5 of words are in the 2000 most common words
    64.7 of words are in the 5000 most common words
    71.6 of words are in the 8000 most common words
    Each bar represents the percentage of words per 1000 most common words.
  • Hamlet, Prince of Denmark - 3
    Total number of words is 4894
    Total number of unique words is 1411
    46.8 of words are in the 2000 most common words
    63.2 of words are in the 5000 most common words
    70.5 of words are in the 8000 most common words
    Each bar represents the percentage of words per 1000 most common words.
  • Hamlet, Prince of Denmark - 4
    Total number of words is 4873
    Total number of unique words is 1366
    48.0 of words are in the 2000 most common words
    63.8 of words are in the 5000 most common words
    72.1 of words are in the 8000 most common words
    Each bar represents the percentage of words per 1000 most common words.
  • Hamlet, Prince of Denmark - 5
    Total number of words is 4895
    Total number of unique words is 1393
    46.6 of words are in the 2000 most common words
    64.0 of words are in the 5000 most common words
    71.6 of words are in the 8000 most common words
    Each bar represents the percentage of words per 1000 most common words.
  • Hamlet, Prince of Denmark - 6
    Total number of words is 4954
    Total number of unique words is 1398
    46.5 of words are in the 2000 most common words
    62.0 of words are in the 5000 most common words
    68.2 of words are in the 8000 most common words
    Each bar represents the percentage of words per 1000 most common words.
  • Hamlet, Prince of Denmark - 7
    Total number of words is 2683
    Total number of unique words is 840
    52.6 of words are in the 2000 most common words
    69.6 of words are in the 5000 most common words
    75.3 of words are in the 8000 most common words
    Each bar represents the percentage of words per 1000 most common words.