Imagens das páginas
PDF

Which the brain makes of fumes: our very |

Real Grief. eyes

Good faith, Seems, madam! nay, it is: I know not seems Are sometimes like our judgements, blind. / 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, I tremble still with fear: but if there be Nor customary suits of solemn black, Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it! No nor the fruitful river in the eye, . The dream's here still: even when I awake, it is Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage, Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt. Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief, Routed Army.

That can denote me truly: these, indeed, seein, No blame be to you, sir: for all was lost, For they are actions thai a man might play: But that the heavens fought: the king himself But I have that within, which passeth show; Of his wings destitute, the army broken, These, but the trapping and the suits of woe. And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying, Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted

u Immoderate Grief discommended. Lolling the tongue with slaught'ring, having

'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, work

Hamlet, More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down To give these mourning duties to your father : Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some But, you must know, your father lost a father ; falling

That' father lost, lost his; and the survivor Merely through fear; that the strait pass In filial obligation, for some term [bound, was damm'd

[living To do obsequious sorrow. But to persevere With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards In obstinate condolement, is a course To die with lengthen'd shame.

Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief: Death.

It shows a will most incorrect to Heaven; 1, in mine own woe charm’d, [groan;

A heart unfortified, or mind iinpatient; Could not find Death, where I did hear him

An understanding simple and unschool'd: Nor feel him, where he struck: being an ugly

For what we know, must be, and is as common monster,

rbeds. | As any the most vulgar thing to sense, "Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft

| Why should we, in our peevish opposition, Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we,

Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to Heaven, That draw his knives i' the war.

A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,

To reason most absurd; whose common theme $ 18. HAMLET. SHAKSPEARE.

| Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried Prodigies.

From the first corse till he that died to-day, In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, [dead The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted

Hamlet's Soliloquy on his Mother's Marriage. Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets ; 1 0 , that this too, too solid flesh would melt, Stars shone with trains of fire, dews of blood Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! fell;

Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd (God! Disasters veild the sun ; and the moist star, His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O Upon whose influence Neptune'sempire stands, How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Was sick almost 10 doomsday with eclipse. Seem to me all the uses of this world! Ghosts vanish at the Crowing of the Cock: and Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,

the Reverence paid to Christmas-time. That grows to seed; things rank and gross in Ber. It was about tospeak, when the cock crew.

nature Hor. And then it started like a guilty thing, Possess it merely. That it should come to this! Upon a fearful summous. I have heard, | But two months dead! nay, not so much, not The cock, that is the trumpet of the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat So excellent a king; that was, to this, Awake the god of day; and, at his warning, Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother, Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,

That he might not let e'en the winds of heaven Th' extravagant and erring spirit hies

Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! To his confine: and of the truth herein,

Must I remember?--why, she would hang on This present object made probation.

As if increase of appetite had grown [him, Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock. By what it fed on: and yet within a month Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes, Let me not think on't-frailty, thy name is Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,

woman! This bird of dawning singeth all night long: A little month ;--or ere those shoes were old, And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad, With which she follow'd my poor father's body, The nights are wholesome; then no planets Like Niobe, all tears ;-why she, even she strike,

O Heaven! a beast that wants discourse of No fairy takes, nor witch hath pow'r to charm, reason, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. Would have mourn'd longer-married with Morning. .

mine uncle, But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, My father's brother ; but no more like my fiWalks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill. 1

ther,

So.

[ocr errors]

Than I to Hercules : within a month, Be thy intents wicked, or charitable,
Ere yet the salt of most uprighteous tears Thou com'st in such a questionable shape,
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, That I will speak to thee; I'll call thee Hamlet,
She married : O most wicked speed, to post King, father, royal Dane: (), answer me:
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! Let me not bursi in ignorance! but tell,
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.

Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,
A complete Man.

ilave burst their cerements? why the sepulchre He was a man, take him for all in all,

Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, I shall not look upon his like again.

Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,

To cast thee up again? What may this mean, Cautions to young Ladies.

That thou, dead corse, again, in coinplete steel, For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favor,

Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the nioon, Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;

Making night hideous; and we fools of nature, A violet in the youth of primy nature,

So horribly to shake our disposition Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? The perfume and suppliance of a minute, No more.

The Mischief it might tempt him to.

What if it tempt you towards the food, my Then weigh what loss your honor may sustain,

y sustain Or to the dreadful suinmit of the cliff, lord, If with too credent car you list his songs;

That beetls o'er his base into the sea; Or lose your heart; or your chaste treasure open

And there assume some other horrible form, To his unmaster'd importunity.

Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason, Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister;

And draw you into madness? Think of it: And keep you in the rear of your affection,

The very place puts toys of desperation, Out of the shot and danger of desire.

Without more motive, into ev'ry brain, The chariest maid is prodigal enough,

That looks so many fathorns to the sea, If she unmask her beauty to the moon :

And hears it roar beneath. Virtue herself 'scapes not calumnious strokes:

Enter Ghost and Hamlet. The canker galls the infants of the spring Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me ? speak, Too oft before their buttons be disclos’d:

I'll go no further.
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth

Ghost. Mark me.
Contagious blastments are most imminent. Ham. I will.
A Satire on ungracious Pastors.

Ghost. My hour is almost come,
I shall th' effects of this good lesson keep

| When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames As watchmen to my heart : but, good my bro

Bro | Must render up myself.
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, fther, I Ham. Alas, poor ghost !
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;

| Ghost. Pity nie not, but lend thy serious Whilst, like a puft and reckless libertine,

To what I shall unfold.

[hearing Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,

Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear.
And recks not his own read.

Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou
Ham. What?

[shalt hear. A Father's Advice to his Son going to travel.

Ghost. I am thy father's spirit; Give thy thoughts no tongue,

Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.

And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires, Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.

Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,

Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forGrapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel;

| To tell the secrets of my prison-house, [bid But do not dull thy palm with entertainment

I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Be- Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in, (ware

blood;

Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their Give ev'ry man thine ear, but few thy voice:

spheres ; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judg- | Thy knotted and combined locks to part, Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, (ment. | And each particular hair to stand on end But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;

Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : For the apparel oft proclaims the inan.

But this eternal blazon must not be Neither a borrower, nor a lender be:

To ears of flesh and blood : list, list, o list! For loan oft loses both itself and friend;

If thou didst ever thy dear father love And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

Ham. O Heaven!

(murder. This above all, to thine own self be true;

Ghost.. Revenge his foul and most unnatural And it must follow, as the night the day,

Ham. Murder? Thou canst not then be falsc to any man.

Ghost. Murder most fuul, as in the best it is; Hamlet on the Appearance of his Father's Ghost. But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.

Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Ham. Haste me to know it; that I, with Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damnd,

wings as swift Bring with thee airs froin heaven, or blasts As meditation, or the thoughts of love, from hell,

| May sweep to my revenge.

Ghost. I find thee apt;

| And shall I couple hell? O fie! hold, hold, And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed

my heart ! That roots itself in ease on Lethe's wharf, And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, Wouldst thou not stir in this? Now, Hamlet, But bear me stiffly up! Remember thee? hear:

Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a Tis given out, that, sleeping in my orchard,

seat A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Den- | In this distracted globe. Remember thee? ipark

Yea, from the table of my memory Is by a forged process of my death

I'll wipe away all trivial food records, Rankly abus'd; but know, thou noble youth, | All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, The serpent that did sting thy father's life, That youth and observation copied there ; Now wears his crown.

And thy commandment all alone shall live Ham. O my prophetic soal! my uncle? Within the book and volume of iny brain, Ghost Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by Heaven. beast,

10 most pernicious woman! With witchcraft of his wit, with trait'rous gifts, O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain ! (O wicked wits and gifts, that have the pow'r My tables,--meet it is I set it down, So to sed ice!) won to his shameful lust | That one may sinile, and smile, and be a vil. The wll of my most seeming-virtuous queen.

lain ; O Hamlet, what a falling off was there! At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark. From me, whose love was of that dignity,

[Wriling. That it went hand in hand even with the vow | So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word; I uade to her in marriage ; and to decline | It is, “ Adieu, adieu! Remember me." Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor | Ophelia's Description of Hamlet's mad Address To those of mine!

to her. But sistne, as it never will be mov'd,

My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, Theugh lewdness court it in a shape of heaven: Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd ; So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,

No hat upon his head ; his stockings fould, Will sate itself in a celestial bed,

Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ancle; And prey on garbage.

Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other; Bat, soft! methinks, I scent the morning air; And with a look so piteous in purport, Bref let me be: Sleeping within mine or- | As if he had been loosed out of hell chard,

To speak of horrors he comes before me. Ms custom always of the afternoon,

Pol, Mad for thy' love? l'pon my secure hour thy uncle stole,

Oph. My lord, I do not know; With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,

But, truly, I do fear it. And in the porches of mine ears did pour

Pol. What said he? The leperous distilment; whose effect

Oph. He took me by the wrist, and held me Holls such an enmity with blood of man,

hard; That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through

Then goes he to the length of all his arm; The natural gates and alleys of the body; And with his other hand thus o'er his brow And, with a sudden vigor, it doth posset

| He falls to such perusal of my face, And cord, like eager droppings into milk,

As he would draw it. Long staid he so; The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine;

At last a little shaking of mine arm, And a most instant tetter bark'd about,

And thrice his head thus waving up and down, Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust,

He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound, All my smooth body.

As it did seein to shatter all his bulk, Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand,

And end his being. That done, he let me go; Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd:

And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd, Cot off even in the blossonis of my sin,

He seem'd to find his way without his eyes ; C'nbousel'd, disappointed, unaneld;

For out of doors he went without their helps, No reckoning marle, but sent to my account

And, to the last, bended their light on me. With all my imperfections on my head : O horrible! O horrible! most horrible !

Old Age. If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;

*Beshrew my jealousy! Let not the roval bed of Denmark be

It seems, it is as proper to our age A couch for luxury and danned incest.

To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions, But howsoever thou porsiest this act,

As it is common for the younger sort
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive To lack discretion.
Against thy mother aught; leave her to Heaven,

Happiness consists in Opinion.
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,

Why, then, 'tis none to you;
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once! | For there is nothing either good or bad,
The glow-worm shows the marin to be near,

But thinking makes it so :
Ani 'gins to pale his ineffectual fire:

To ine it is a prison. Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me. Exit. Hamlet's Reflections on the Player and himself. Ham. O, all you host of heaven! O earth! O what a rogue and peasant slave am I! what else?

| Is it not monstrous, that this player here,

But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,

King. O, 'tis too true! how smart
Could force his soul so to his own conceit, A lash that speech does give my conscience!
That, from her working, all his visage wann'd? The harlot'scheek, beautied with plast'ring art,
Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect, Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it,
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting | Than is my deed to my most painted word.
With forms to his conceit; and all for nothing!

Life and Death weighed.
For Hecuba!
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,

To be, or not to be, that is the questions That he should weep for her? what would he do,

| Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer Had he the motive and the cue for passion

| The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune; That I have? he would drown the stage with

| Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, tears,

And, by opposing, end them: Todie-io sleep And cleave the gen'ral ear with horrid speech;

No more; and by a sleep to say we end Make mad the guilty and appal the free,

The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks Confound the ignorant; and amaze, indeed,

That flesh is heir to ;-'tis a consummation The very faculties of eyes and ears.

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die ;- to sleep; Yet I

To sleep! perchance to dream ;-ay, there's A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, speak,

the rub;

[come, Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,

For in that sleep of death what dreams may And can say nothing ; no, not for a king,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Upon whose property and most dear life

Must give us pause :- there's the respect, A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?

| That makes calamity of so long life; (time, Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?

For who would bear the whips and scorns of Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face? Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's conTweaks me by the nose, gives me the lie i' the

tumely, throat,

The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this?

The insolence of office, and the spurns Ha! why, I should take it :--for it cannot be

That patient inerit of th' unworthy takes, But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall

When he himself might his quietus make To make oppression bitter; or, cre this,

With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, I should have fatted all the region kites

To grunt and sweat under a weary life; With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain! | But that the dread of something after death Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless

The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn villain!

| No traveller returns-puzzles the will, Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave;

And makes us rather bear those ills we hare, Thai I, the son of a dear father murder’d,

Than fly to others that we know not of? Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; Must, like a whore, un pack my heart with

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; words, And fall a cursing like a very drab,

| And enterprises of great pith and moment, A scullion!

With this regard, their currents turn awry, Fie upon 't! foh! About, my brains! Humph!

And lose the name of action
I have heard,

Calumny.
That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,

Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, Have by the very cunning of the scene Thoa sbalt not escape calumny. Been struck so to the soul, that presently They have proclaim'd their malefactions :

A noble Mind disordered. For murder, though it have notongne, will speak!.

O what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! With most miraculous organ. I'll have these | The courtiers, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, players

sword : Play something like the murder of my father,

Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state, Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;

The glass of fashion, and the mould of form, I'll tent him to the quick; if he do blench,

Th'observ'd of all observers ! quite, quite

Thobs I know my course. The spirit, that I have seen,

down! May be a devil: and the devil hath pow'r

And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and, perhaps,

That suck'd the honey of his music-vows, Out of my weakness and my melancholy,

Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, (As he is very potent with such spirits)

Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds That unmatchd form and feature of blown More relative than this: the play's the thing

youth, Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. / Blasted with ecstasy. Hypocrisy.

| On Flattery, and an even-minded Man. We are to blame in this

| Nay, do not think I flatter: 'Tis too much prov'd--that, with devotion's For what advancement may I hope from thee, visage

That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits, And pious action, we do sugar o'er

To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor The devil himself,

be flatter'd ?

been

Midnight.

No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp; Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart, with strings And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,

of steel, Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe ; hear?

All inay be well!

[The king kneels. Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,

Enter Hamlet.

[ing; And could of men distinguish her election,

Ham. Now might I do it, pat, now he is praya She hath seal'd thee for herself : for thou hast | And now I'll do 't; and so he goes to heav'n:

And so am I reveng'd ? that would be scann'd: As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing; La villain kills my father : and, for that. A man, that fortune's buffets and rewards -11, his sole son, do this same villain send Hast ta'en with equal thanks : and blest are those,

[mingled, Why this is hire and salary, not rerenge. Whose blood and judgment are so well com- | He took my father grossly, full of bread; That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger

With all his crimes broad-blown, as flush as To sound what stop she please: Give me the man

May;

[Hearen ? That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him

And, how his audit stands, who knows, save In my heart's core-ay, in my heart of heart,

But, in ourcircumstance and course of thought, As I do thee.

'Tis heavy with him: and am I then reveng'd

To take him in the purging of his soul, "Tis now the very witching time of night; When he is fit and seasoned for his passage? When church-yards yawn, and hell itself No. • breathes out

shot blood, | Up. sword; and know thou a more horrid hent: Contagion to this world: Now could I drink / When he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage; And do such business as the better day

Or in the incestuous pleasures of his bed ; Would quake to look on. Soft; now to my At gaming. swearing; or about some act inother.

That has no relish of salvation in 't: (ven; O heart, lose not thy nature: let not ever

Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaThe soul of Nero enter this firm bosom : And that his soul may be as damn'd and black, Let me be cruel, not unnatural :

As hell whereto it goes. I will speak daggers to her, but use none.

Hamlet and his Mother. The King's despairing Soliloquy, and Hamlet's. Queen. What have I done, that thou dar’st Reflections on him.

| In noise so rude against me? [wag thy tongue O, my offence is rank, it smells to heav'n;

Ham. Such an act, It hath the primal, eldest curse upon 't,

That blurs the grace and blush of modesty; A brother's murder! Pray can I not,

Calls virtue hypocrite; takes off the rose Though inclination be as sharp as will';

From the fair forehead of an innocent love, My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;

| And sets a blister there; makes marriage-vows And, like a man to double business bound,

As false as dicers' oaths: 0, such a deed, I stand in pause where I shall first begin,

As from the body of contraction plucks
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand | The very soul ! and sweet religion makes
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood? | A rhapsody of words.
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens

Queen. Ah me, what act ?
Ab me what act?

this, To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves

Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and on But to confront the visage of offence? [mercy,

The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. And what's in prayer, but this twofold force; See what a grace was seated on this brow: To be forestalled, ere we come to fall,

Hyperion's curls; the front of. Jove himself; Or pardon'd, being down? Then I'll look up;

An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; My fault is past. But 0, what form of prayer A station like the herald Mercury, Can serve myturn? Forgive me my foul murder!

New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; That cannot be; since I am still possess'd

A combination, and a form, indeed, Of those effects for which I did the murder,

Where every god did seem to set his seal, : My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. To give the world assurance of a man; [follows; May one be pardon'd, and retain th' offence?

This was your husband.-Look you now, what In the corrupted currents of this world, Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear, Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice:

Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself

Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, Boys out the law: but 'tis not so above: And batten on this moor? There is no shuffling, there the action lies

Queen. 0 Hamlet, speak no more; In its true nature, and we ourselves compellid | Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul; Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults

And there I see such black and grained spots, To give in evidence. What then? what rests ? As will not leave their tinct. Trv what repentance can : what can it not?

Enter Ghost. Yet what can it, when one cannot repent? Ham. Save me, and hover o'er nie with your O wretched state! O bosom, black as death!

wings, O limed soul! that, struggling to be free, You heavenly guards I-What would your graArt more engag'd! Help, angels, make assay ! | cious figure?

« AnteriorContinuar »