THE TRAGEDY OF HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK

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 married to Claudius
POLONIUS, Lord Chamberlain
LAERTES, Polonius’s son
OPHELIA, Polonius’s daughter
HORATIO, Hamlet’s friend
FORTINBRAS, Prince of Norway
VOLTEMAND, Courtier
CORNELIUS, Courtier
ROSENCRANTZ, Courtier
GUILDENSTERN, Courtier
MARCELLUS, Officer
BARNARDO, Officer
FRANCISCO, a soldier
OSRIC, Courtier
REYNALDO, Polonius’s servant
Players
A Gentleman, Courtier
A Priest
Two Clowns, Gravediggers
A Captain
English Ambassadors.
Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers, and Attendants

Enter Francisco and Barnardo, two guards.

BARNARDO.
Who's there?

FRANCISCO.
No, answer me. Stand and reveal yourself.

BARNARDO.
Long live the King!

FRANCISCO.
Barnardo?

BARNARDO.
He.

FRANCISCO.
You show up right on time.

BARNARDO.
It's now midnight. Go to bed, Francisco.

FRANCISCO.
Thanks a lot for this help. It's really cold,
And I'm feeling down.

BARNARDO.
Have you had a silent guard?

FRANCISCO.
Not a mouse moving.

BARNARDO.
Well, good night.
If you run into Horatio and Marcellus,
The ones who are on watch with me, tell them to hurry up.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

FRANCISCO.
I think I hear them. Stop! Who's there?

HORATIO.
Friends to this place.

MARCELLUS.
And vassals to the Dane.

FRANCISCO.
Have a good night.

MARCELLUS.
Oh, goodbye, honest soldier. Who helped you?

FRANCISCO.
Barnardo has my spot. Good night to you.

[Log out.]

Marcellus.
Hey, Barnardo!

BARNARDO.
Hey, is Horatio there?

Horatio.
A part of him.

BARNARDO.
Hey, Horatio. Hey, Marcellus.

MARCELLUS.
What, has this thing shown up again tonight?

BARNARDO.
I haven't seen anything.

MARCELLUS.
Horatio says it's just our imagination,
And he won't let himself believe
In this terrifying sight that we've seen twice.
So I've asked him to join us
To keep watch tonight,
So that if this ghost appears again,
He can confirm what we see and talk to it.

HORATIO.
Nah, it won’t show up.

BARNARDO.
Sit down for a bit,
And let us once again attack your ears,
Which are so guarded against our tale,
Of what we’ve seen these past two nights.

HORATIO.
Alright, let’s sit down,
And listen to Barnardo talk about this.

BARNARDO.
Last night, of all nights,
When that same star in the west, far from the pole,
Had completed its path to light up that part of the sky
Where it now shines, Marcellus and I,
As the bell struck one—

MARCELLUS.
Hold on, stop talking. Look, it’s coming back again.

Enter Ghost.

BARNARDO.
In the same shape, like the dead King.

MARCELLUS.
You're a scholar; talk to it, Horatio.

BARNARDO.
Doesn't it look like the King? Pay attention to it, Horatio.

HORATIO.
Yeah, definitely. It fills me with a mix of fear and curiosity.

BARNARDO
It would be spoken to.

MARCELLUS.
Question it, Horatio.

HORATIO.
Who are you that takes up this time of night,
Along with that noble and fierce figure
In which the greatness of the late Denmark
Once walked? By heaven, I command you to speak.

MARCELLUS.
It's offended.

BARNARDO.
Look, it's stalking away.

HORATIO.
Wait! Talk, talk! I urge you to say something!

[Exit Ghost.]

MARCELLUS.
It’s gone and won’t react.

BARNARDO.
Hey, Horatio! You look nervous and pale.
Isn’t this more than just an illusion?
What do you think about it?

HORATIO.
Honestly, I couldn’t believe this
Without the clear and undeniable proof
Of my own eyes.

MARCELLUS.
Doesn't it look like the King?

HORATIO.
Just like you are to yourself:
That was exactly the armor he wore
When he fought ambitious Norway;
He frowned like that once, during an angry conversation
When he defeated the Polacks on the ice.
It’s strange.

MARCELLUS.
So twice before, and right at this late hour,
With a military stride he has passed our watch.

HORATIO.
I'm not sure what specific thought to pursue;
But in the general sense of my opinion,
This seems to signal some unusual disturbance in our state.

MARCELLUS.
Alright, sit down and tell me, whoever knows,
Why this same strict and careful watch
Works so hard every night for the country,
And why there’s a constant supply of cannons
And foreign markets for weapons;
Why there’s such a demand for shipbuilders, whose hard work
Doesn't even give them a break on Sundays.
What’s going on that this rush
Makes the night work alongside the day:
Who can tell me?

HORATIO.
I can do that;
At least, that's what everyone’s saying. Our last King,
Whose ghost just showed up to us,
Was challenged to a duel by Fortinbras of Norway,
Who was fueled by intense pride,
And dared to fight; in which our brave Hamlet,
As everyone on this side of the world regards him,
Killed Fortinbras; who, by a sealed agreement,
Well ratified by law and heraldry,
Gave up his life and all his lands
That he owned, to the victor;
Against which, a significant portion
Was wagered by our King; which would have returned
To Fortinbras’ inheritance,
Had he won; as indicated by the same agreement
And terms laid out,
That went to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras,
With untested metal, eager and full of fire,
Has gathered a group of lawless men,
For food and supplies, for some venture
That clearly has ambition; which is none other,
As it seems to our state,
Than to forcibly reclaim from us,
By might and coercive terms, those lands
His father lost. And I think,
This is the main reason for our preparations,
The basis for our watch, and the primary reason
For this urgent hustle in the country.

BARNARDO.
I think it can only be this way:
It's no surprise that this ominous figure
Shows up armed during our watch, looking just like the King
That was and is the topic of these wars.

HORATIO.
It's a tiny speck that troubles the mind's eye.
In the very high and glorious days of Rome,
Just before the powerful Julius fell,
The graves were empty, and the ghostly dead
Were making noises in the streets of Rome;
Like stars with trails of fire and drops of blood,
Signs of disaster in the sunlight; and the damp star,
On whose influence Neptune's realm exists,
Was almost sick to the point of doom with an eclipse.
And even similar warnings of fierce events,
Like messengers that lead to fate,
And the introduction to the ominous events coming,
Have been shown by heaven and earth together
To our climates and fellow countrymen.

Re-enter Ghost.

But wait, look! There it is again!
I’ll face it, even if it destroys me. Hold on, illusion!
If you have any sound or can speak,
Talk to me.
If there’s any good you can do,
That might bring you peace and me some grace,
Talk to me.
If you know anything about your nation's fate,
Which, knowing in advance, might help avoid it,
Oh, please speak!
Or if you have buried in your life
Stolen treasures deep in the earth,
For which they say spirits often wander in death,
Speak about it. Stay, and talk!

The rooster crows.

Stop it, Marcellus!

MARCELLUS.
Should I take a shot at it with my spear?

HORATIO.
Go ahead, if it won’t hold.

BARNARDO.
It's here!

HORATIO.
It's here!

[Exit Ghost.]

MARCELLUS.
It’s gone!
We’re wrong to act so grandly,
Trying to attack it with force,
Because it’s like the air, untouchable,
And our futile strikes are just cruel mockery.

BARNARDO.
It was about to speak when the rooster crowed.

HORATIO.
And then it began, like something guilty
At a terrifying call. I've heard
The rooster, which announces the dawn,
With his high and piercing voice
Wakes the god of day; and at his call,
Whether in the sea or fire, on land or in the sky,
The wandering and lost spirit rushes
To its confinement. And of the truth in this,
This current sight provides proof.

MARCELLUS.
It disappeared with the crow of the rooster.
Some say that every time this season arrives
When we celebrate the birth of our Savior,
The dawn bird sings all night long;
And then, they say, no spirit dares to roam,
The nights are pure, and no planets have an effect,
No fairy can trick, nor witch has the power to enchant;
This time is so sacred and so blessed.

HORATIO.
I've heard about it and I partly believe it.
But look, the morning dressed in red,
Walks over the dew on that high hill to the east.
Let's end our watch, and I suggest
We tell young Hamlet what we've seen tonight,
Because I swear, this spirit, silent to us, will talk to him.
Do you agree we should inform him,
Since it's necessary for our friendship and right for us to do?

MARCELLUS.
Let's do it, please, and I know this morning
Where we can find him most conveniently.

[They exit.]

Enter Claudius King of Denmark, Gertrude the Queen, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, Voltemand,
Cornelius, Lords and Staff Member.

KING.
Though the memory of our dear brother Hamlet’s death is still fresh, and it is fitting for us to grieve in our hearts, and for our entire kingdom to share in this sorrow; discretion has fought with nature so that we reflect on him with wise sadness, while also keeping ourselves in mind. Therefore, our former sister, now our queen, the joint ruler of this warrior state, we have taken as our wife, albeit with mixed feelings—one eye celebrating and another in tears, with joy in mourning, and a funeral tone in marriage, balancing both happiness and sorrow. We have not disregarded your wisdom, which has willingly supported this decision. Thank you for that. Now, regarding young Fortinbras: he mistakenly believes that our strength is weak, or thinks that due to our late dear brother’s death, our state is unstable and disorganized. Joining forces with this misguided belief for his gain, he has bombarded us with messages requesting the return of lands lost by his father, all under legal pretexts, to our most valiant brother. That’s enough about him. Now, for our own business and the purpose of this gathering: here’s what’s happening: we have written to Norway, the uncle of young Fortinbras, who, weak and bedridden, barely hears about his nephew’s intent to control the situation; this is because the military preparations, the lists, and all the necessary arrangements are being made outside of his control. We are sending you, good Cornelius, and you, Voltemand, to deliver this message to old Norway, giving you no additional authority to engage with the King, beyond what these detailed articles permit. Farewell; let your urgency commend your duty.

CORNELIUS and VOLTEMAND.
In that, and everything else, we will prove our loyalty.

KING.
We have no doubts about it: a heartfelt farewell.

[Voltemand and Cornelius exit.]

And now, Laertes, what’s going on with you?
You mentioned something about a request. What is it, Laertes?
You can’t talk sense to the Dane,
And expect to be heard. What do you want, Laertes,
That I won’t give you, or that you won’t ask for?
The head doesn’t belong to the heart any more,
The hand isn’t more useful to the mouth,
Than the throne of Denmark is to your father.
What do you want, Laertes?

LAERTES.
My lord,
I ask for your permission to return to France,
From where I came to Denmark willingly
To show my respect during your coronation;
But now I must admit, with that duty fulfilled,
My thoughts and desires are turning back to France,
And I respectfully seek your leave and forgiveness.

KING.
Do you have your father's permission? What did Polonius say?

POLONIUS.
He has, my lord, gotten my reluctant permission
Through persistent requests; and at last
By his insistence I agreed to let him go.
I strongly urge you to allow him to leave.

KING.
Take your time, Laertes; the hour is yours,
And use your best qualities as you wish!
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son—

HAMLET.
[Aside.] More than family, but not really friendly.

KING.
Why do the clouds still linger around you?

HAMLET.
Not really, my lord, I'm just too much in the spotlight.

QUEEN.
Good Hamlet, stop hiding in your dark clothes,
And let your eyes look friendly at Denmark.
Don’t always keep your eyes closed,
Looking for your noble father among the dead.
You know it’s natural—everyone who lives must die,
Moving through life to eternity.

HAMLET.
Yes, ma'am, it's common.

QUEEN.
If it is,
Why does it seem so specific to you?

HAMLET.
It seems so, madam! No, it really is; I can’t just pretend.
It’s not just my dark cloak, dear mother,
Or the usual black clothing,
Or the deep sighs I take,
No, nor the tears that flow from my eyes,
Nor the sad look on my face,
Along with all the different expressions, moods, and displays of grief,
That can truly express me. These really only seem,
Because they’re actions a person might perform;
But I have something inside me that goes beyond appearances;
These are just the outer signs and costumes of sorrow.

KING.
It's sweet and commendable in you, Hamlet,
To show these mourning duties to your father;
But you need to understand, your father lost a father,
That father lost his, and the surviving one is expected
To show sadness for a while.
However, to cling to stubborn mourning is a sign
Of impious stubbornness. It's unmanly grief;
It demonstrates a will that goes against heaven,
A heart that's weak, a mind that's impatient,
An understanding that's simple and unlearned;
For what we know must happen, and is as common
As anything that’s obvious to the senses,
Why should we, in our childish opposition,
Take it to heart? Come on, it's a sin against heaven,
A sin against the dead, a sin against nature,
And completely unreasonable, since the common theme
Is the death of fathers, and it's been proclaimed,
From the first corpse until the one that died today,
‘This must be how it is.’ We ask you to let go of
This pointless sorrow, and think of us
As if we were a father; for let the world take note
You are the closest to our throne,
And with no less love and nobility
Than that which a dear father has for his son,
I feel the same towards you. Regarding your plan
To go back to school in Wittenberg,
That goes against our wishes:
And we ask you to stay
Here in the warmth and comfort of our presence,
Our most valued courtier, cousin, and our son.

QUEEN.
Don't let your mother lose her prayers, Hamlet.
Please stay with us; don't go to Wittenberg.

HAMLET.
I will do my best to obey you, ma'am.

KING.
Well, that's a kind and beautiful response.
Be like us here in Denmark. Madam, come;
This kind and unforced agreement of Hamlet
Brings joy to my heart; because of it,
No cheerful toast that Denmark raises today
Will go by without the great cannon firing into the sky,
And the King’s toast will echo in the heavens,
Re-sounding like thunder on Earth. Let’s go.

[Everyone exits except Hamlet.]

HAMLET.
Oh, that this heavy body would just melt away,
Thaw, and turn into a dew!
Or that the Eternal had not imposed
His rule against taking one's own life. Oh God! Oh God!
How tired, dull, empty, and useless
Everything in this world seems to me!
What a shame! Oh what a shame! It’s like an unkempt garden
That has gone to seed; things vile and disgusting in nature
Fill it completely. How did it come to this!
Just two months dead—no, not even two:
Such an amazing king; he was like
Hyperion compared to a satyr; so loving to my mother,
That he wouldn’t let the winds of heaven
Touch her face too harshly. Heaven and earth!
Must I remember? She would cling to him
As if her appetite grew
By what it fed on; and yet, within a month—
Let me not think of it—Frailty, your name is woman!
Just a month, or before 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 lacks reason
Would have mourned longer,—married my uncle,
My father’s brother; but he’s nothing like my father
Than I am to Hercules. Within a month,
Before the salt of most wrongful tears
Had dried in her pained eyes,
She married. Oh, such wicked haste, to rush
Into incestuous sheets!
It’s not right, and it can’t lead to anything good.
But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.

Enter Horatio, Marcellus, and Barnardo.

HORATIO.
Greetings, my lord!

HAMLET.
I'm glad to see you doing well:
Horatio, or I'm losing track of myself.

HORATIO.
The same goes for me, my lord,
And I'm always here for you.

HAMLET.
Hey there, my good friend;
I’ll swap that name with you:
What brings you from Wittenberg, Horatio?—
Marcellus?

MARCELLUS.
My lord.

HAMLET.
I’m really happy to see you.—Good evening, sir.—
But really, what brings you back from Wittenberg?

HORATIO.
A restless spirit, my lord.

HAMLET.
I wouldn't want to hear your enemy say that;
And you won't force my ears to accept your version
Against yourself. I know you aren't a slacker.
But what brings you to Elsinore?
We'll show you how to party hard before you leave.

HORATIO.
My lord, I came to attend your father’s funeral.

HAMLET.
Please don’t make fun of me, fellow student.
I think it was to see my mother’s wedding.

HORATIO.
Really, my lord, it happened right after.

HAMLET.
Waste not, Horatio! The leftovers from the funeral
Chilled and set the stage for the wedding feast.
I wish I had encountered my greatest enemy in heaven
Before I had to witness that day, Horatio.
My father—I think I see my father.

HORATIO.
Where, my lord?

HAMLET.
In my mind, Horatio.

HORATIO.
I saw him once; he was a great king.

HAMLET.
He was a man, all things considered,
I won't see anyone like him again.

HORATIO.
My lord, I think I saw him last night.

HAMLET.
Saw? Who?

HORATIO.
My lord, your father the King.

HAMLET.
My father the King!

HORATIO.
Take a moment to temper your admiration
With a listening ear, until I can share
With the support of these gentlemen
This incredible story with you.

HAMLET.
For God's sake, let me hear.

HORATIO.
For the last two nights, these guys, Marcellus and Barnardo, have been on watch
In the dead of night,
And they've encountered this figure. It looks just like your father,
Fully armed, just as he was,
It appears before them and walks by
With a serious air, slow and steady: it passed
By their stunned and terrified eyes three times,
Just within arm's reach; while they, nearly frozen
With fear, stood silent, not speaking to him. They told me this
In haunting secrecy,
And I joined them on the watch the third night,
Where, just as they described, in every detail,
The apparition appeared. I recognized your father;
These hands are not more similar.

HAMLET.
But where was this?

MARCELLUS.
My lord, on the platform where we’re keeping watch.

HAMLET.
Did you not talk to it?

HORATIO.
My lord, I did;
But it didn't respond: still, for a moment, I thought
It lifted its head and seemed ready to move,
As if it would speak.
But just then the morning rooster crowed loudly,
And at that sound, it quickly shrank away,
And vanished from our sight.

HAMLET.
It's very strange.

HORATIO.
I swear, my honored lord, it’s true;
And we thought it was our duty
To let you know about it.

HAMLET.
Yes, yes, gentlemen, but this bothers me.
Are you on watch tonight?

MARCELLUS and BARNARDO.
Yes, my lord.

HAMLET.
Armed, you say?

Both.
Armed, my lord.

HAMLET.
Whole body?

BOTH.
My lord, from head to toe.

HAMLET.
Did you not see his face?

HORATIO.
Oh yes, my lord, he had his hat on.

HAMLET.
What, did he look angry?

HORATIO.
A face that shows more sadness than anger.

HAMLET.
Pale or red?

HORATIO.
No, very pale.

HAMLET.
And stared at you?

Definitely.

HAMLET.
I wish I had been there.

HORATIO.
It would have amazed you a lot.

HAMLET.
Sounds about right. Did it last long?

HORATIO.
While someone could quickly share a hundred.

MARCELLUS and BARNARDO.
Longer, longer.

HORATIO.
Not when I saw it.

HAMLET.
Wasn't his beard grizzled?

HORATIO.
It was, as I’ve seen it in his life,
A black and silver mix.

HAMLET.
I'll keep watch tonight;
Maybe it'll walk again.

HORATIO.
I guarantee it will.

HAMLET.
If it takes on my noble father's form,
I’ll talk to it, even if hell itself opens up
And tells me to be quiet. I ask you all,
If you've kept this sight a secret until now,
Please continue to keep it that way;
And whatever else happens tonight,
Let it be understood but not spoken of.
I will repay your kindness. So, take care.
I'll meet you on the platform between eleven and twelve.

ALL.
Our duty to your honor.

HAMLET.
My love for you is the same as yours for me: goodbye.

[Exit Horatio, Marcellus and Barnardo.]

My father’s spirit in arms! All is not well;
I suspect something is wrong: I wish night would come!
Until then, stay calm, my soul: bad deeds will surface,
Even if the whole earth hides them from people.

[Leave.]

Enter Laertes and Ophelia.

LAERTES.
My things are all packed. Goodbye.
And, sister, since the winds are favorable
And the journey is smooth, don't sleep,
But keep me updated.

OPHELIA.
Are you doubting that?

LAERTES.
For Hamlet, and the games he plays with his affection,
Consider it a trend and a fleeting distraction;
A violet in the vibrant youth of nature,
Intense, but not enduring, sweet, but not lasting;
The scent and indulgence of a moment;
Nothing more.

OPHELIA.
Is that all there is?

LAERTES.
Don't think about it anymore.
Nature doesn't just grow in size; as this body develops,
The inner workings of the mind and soul
Expand as well. He may love you now,
And right now, nothing taints
The purity of his intentions; but you need to be cautious,
His position means his will isn't entirely his own;
He’s bound by his status:
He can’t choose freely like unimportant people do,
Because his decisions affect
The health and stability of the entire nation;
So his choices must be limited
By the collective voice of the body
Of which he is the leader. If he claims to love you,
You’d be wise to believe it
Only as far as he can act on that claim,
Which is only as credible
As the general opinion of Denmark allows.
Consider the potential damage to your honor
If you listen to his sweet words too easily,
Or risk losing your heart, or exposing your virtue
To his relentless pursuit.
Be careful, Ophelia, be careful, my dear sister;
Guard your feelings,
Stay away from the dangers of desire.
Even the most cautious girl can be indiscreet
If she reveals her beauty to the moon.
Virtue isn't safe from slanderous attacks:
The pest can harm young buds
Before they even bloom,
And during the tender morning of youth,
The threat of temptation is the greatest.
So be alert, your best protection is to be afraid.
Youth rebels even when no one else is watching.

OPHELIA.
I will keep the impact of this good lesson
As a guard over my heart. But please, my brother,
Don't be like some unkind teachers who,
Point out the difficult and painful path to heaven;
While like a spoiled and reckless person
He walks the easy road of pleasure,
Not caring about his own advice.

LAERTES.
Oh, don’t be afraid of me.
I’m overstaying my welcome. But here comes my father.

Enter Polonius.

A double blessing is a double gift;
Opportunity comes with a second chance.

POLONIUS.
So, Laertes? Get going, get going, for shame.
The wind’s at your back,
And you’re being held up. There, my blessings go with you.

[Laying his hand on Laertes’s head.]

And keep these few rules in your mind:
Look at your character. Don’t speak every thought,
And don’t let any irrational thought drive your actions.
Be friendly, but don’t be common.
Stick with the friends you have tested and trusted,
Bind them to your soul with strong bonds;
But don’t wear yourself out with every new,
immature friend. Watch out
for getting into a fight; but if you do,
make sure your opponent knows they should be careful.
Listen to everyone, but speak to only a few:
Take each person’s criticism, but keep your own judgment.
Dress well, according to what you can afford,
but don’t be flashy; be rich but not over-the-top:
Because clothes often reflect the man;
And in France, the highest ranks and positions
are known for their excellent and generous style.
Don’t borrow or lend money:
Because a loan often loses both the money and a friend;
And borrowing weakens your ability to manage.
Above all, be true to yourself;
And it will follow, like night follows day,
that you won’t be false to anyone.
Goodbye: may my blessing be with you.

LAERTES.
I humbly take my leave, my lord.

POLONIUS.
It's time for you to go; your attendants are waiting.

LAERTES.
Goodbye, Ophelia, and keep in mind
What I've told you.

OPHELIA.
It's locked in my memory,
And you will hold the key to it.

LAERTES.
Goodbye.

[Log out.]

POLONIUS.
What has he said to you, Ophelia?

OPHELIA.
Can we talk about Lord Hamlet?

POLONIUS.
Well, I’ve thought about it:
I’ve been told that he has been spending a lot of private time with you lately; and you yourself
Have been very open and generous with your audience.
If that’s the case—because it’s what I’ve been told,
And it’s a matter of caution—I have to tell you
You might not understand yourself as clearly
As is fitting for my daughter and your reputation.
What’s going on between you? Tell me the truth.

OPHELIA.
He has, my lord, lately expressed his feelings for me many times.

POLONIUS.
Love! Seriously? You sound like an inexperienced girl,
Clueless in such a dangerous situation.
Do you really trust his affections, as you call them?

OPHELIA.
I’m not sure, my lord, what to think.

POLONIUS.
Well, I’ll teach you; think of yourself as a kid;
That you’ve taken these offers as genuine,
When they’re not worth anything. Value yourself more;
Or—without being too harsh on the poor saying,
Putting it this way—you’ll make me look like a fool.

OPHELIA.
My lord, he has persistently expressed his love for me
In an honorable way.

POLONIUS.
Yeah, you can call it that; come on, come on.

OPHELIA.
And has supported his words, my lord,
With nearly all the sacred promises of heaven.

POLONIUS.
Yes, it's traps to catch unsuspecting fools. I know
When emotions run high, how easily people
Make promises: those sparks, my daughter,
Give more light than warmth, dying out in both,
Even in their potential, as they're being made,
You shouldn't mistake for real passion. From now on,
Be more reserved with your presence;
Set your requests at a higher value
Than just a command to talk. For Lord Hamlet,
Believe this much: he is young;
And with more freedom, he may act
Than what you're allowed. In short, Ophelia,
Don’t trust his promises; they are empty,
Not of the nature they seem to portray,
But just manipulators of dishonest desires,
Pretending to be pure and honorable,
To deceive further. This is for your own good:
I would not, in plain terms, from now on,
Have you waste any free time
Talking or interacting with Lord Hamlet.
Pay attention to this, I insist; go your way.

OPHELIA.
I will obey, my lord.

[Exit.]

Enter Hamlet, Horatio and Marcellus.

HAMLET.
The air is really chilly; it's freezing.

HORATIO.
It's a chilly and restless atmosphere.

HAMLET.
What time is it now?

HORATIO.
I think it's twelve short.

MARCELLUS.
No, it's hit.

HORATIO.
Really? I didn't hear it. It’s almost that time of year
When the spirit usually walks around.

A blast of trumpets, and cannon fire went off inside.

What does this mean, my lord?

HAMLET.
The King is partying tonight and getting drunk,
Having a wild celebration, and the merry atmosphere swirls;
And as he downs his glasses of Rhine wine,
The drums and trumpets blare out
The celebration of his toast.

HORATIO.
Is it a tradition?

HAMLET.
Yes, it really is;
And to me, even though I'm from here,
And accustomed to it, it’s a tradition
More respected when violated than followed.
This heavy drinking in all directions
Makes us criticized and judged by other nations:
They call us drunkards, and with filthy language
Spoil our reputation; and indeed it takes
Away from our accomplishments, even when they’re at their best,
The essence and core of who we are.
It often happens with specific individuals
That due to some flaw in their nature,
As in their birth, where they’re not to blame,
Since nature can’t choose its origins,
By their excessive traits,
They often break down the barriers of reason;
Or through some habit that overly disrupts
The appearance of charming manners;—that these individuals,
Carrying, I say, the mark of one weakness,
Being Nature’s uniform or Fate’s influence,—
Their virtues, even if they are as pure as grace,
As boundless as what a person can endure,
Shall suffer in public judgment
Because of that specific fault. A little bit of evil
Destroys all the noble substance of a person
With its own disgrace.

HORATIO.
Look, my lord, it’s coming!

Enter Ghost.

HAMLET.
Angels and ministers of grace, protect us!
Are you a spirit of health or a damned ghost?
Bring with you breezes from heaven or blasts from hell,
Are your intentions wicked or kind?
You come in such a questionable form
That I must speak to you. I’ll call you Hamlet,
King, father, royal Dane. Oh, answer me!
Don’t let me be left in ignorance; tell me
Why your holy bones, resting in death,
Have broken free from their grave clothes; why the tomb,
Where we saw you peacefully buried,
Has opened its heavy marble jaws
To bring you back again! What could this mean,
That you, dead body, once again in full armor,
Return to haunt the light of the moon,
Making the night terrifying, and us fools of nature
So horrifically shaken
With thoughts beyond what we can comprehend?
Tell me, why is this? Why? What should we do?

[Ghost calls Hamlet.]

HORATIO.
It calls you to go away with it,
As if it wants to share something
Just with you.

MARCELLUS.
Notice how politely it gestures
For you to step back to a more distant place.
But don’t follow it.

HORATIO.
No way.

HAMLET.
It won’t say anything; then I’ll follow it.

HORATIO.
Don't, my lord.

HAMLET.
Why should I be scared?
I don’t value my life at all;
And as for my soul, what can it do to that,
Being something immortal like itself?
It’s beckoning me again. I’ll follow it.

HORATIO.
What if it lures you toward the water, my lord,
Or to the terrifying edge of the cliff
That juts out over the sea,
And there takes on some other terrible form
That could rob you of your sense,
And pull you into madness? Think about it.
The very spot puts thoughts of despair,
Without any other reason, into every mind
That looks so deep into the sea
And hears it roar below.

HAMLET.
It's still calling me.
Keep going, I’ll follow you.

MARCELLUS.
You can't leave, my lord.

HAMLET.
Step back.

HORATIO.
Just let it go; you can't leave.

HAMLET.
My fate is calling out,
And makes every little vein in this body
As tough as the nerve of the Nemean lion.

Ghost beckons.

Still I am being called. Let go of me, gentlemen.

Breaking free from them.

By heaven, I'll make a ghost of anyone who lets me.
I say, get lost!—Go ahead, I'll follow you.

[Exit Ghost and Hamlet.]

HORATIO.
He becomes desperate with imagination.

MARCELLUS.
Let’s follow him; it’s not right to obey him like this.

HORATIO.
Let's follow them. Where will this lead?

MARCELLUS.
Something is seriously wrong in Denmark.

HORATIO.
Heaven will guide it.

MARCELLUS.
No, let's follow him.

[Exit.]

Enter Ghost and Hamlet.

HAMLET.
Where will you take me? Speak, I won't go any further.

GHOST.
Remember me.

HAMLET.
I will.

GHOST.
My time is almost here,
When I must submit myself to fiery and painful flames.

HAMLET.
Oh no, poor ghost!

GHOST.
Don’t feel sorry for me, but pay close attention
To what I’m about to reveal.

HAMLET.
Talk, I'm here to listen.

GHOST.
So you're going to take revenge when you hear.

HAMLET.
What?

GHOST.
I am your father's spirit,
Condemned to wander the night for a certain time,
And stuck in flames during the day,
Until the awful crimes I committed in my life
Are burned and cleansed away. But since I'm forbidden
To share the secrets of my prison,
I could tell a story so intense
That even the lightest word would shake your soul; freeze your young blood,
Make your eyes pop out like stars,
And your tangled hair stand on end,
Like quills on a nervous porcupine.
But this eternal truth must not be
Heard by ears of flesh and blood. Listen, listen, oh, listen!
If you ever loved your dear father—

HAMLET.
Oh God!

GHOST.
Get revenge for his horrible and unnatural murder.

HAMLET.
Murder!

GHOST.
A really terrible murder, like the best of them;
But this one is extremely awful, bizarre, and unnatural.

HAMLET.
Quickly tell me, so that I, as fast as a thought
Or the feelings of love
Can rush to my revenge.

GHOST.
I see you're ready;
And you would be duller than the lazy weed
That rots itself in comfort on Lethe wharf,
If you didn't react to this. Now, Hamlet, listen.
It’s said that while I was sleeping in my orchard,
A serpent bit me; so the whole of Denmark
Is being misled by a fake story about my death
In a terrible way; but know this, you noble young man,
The serpent that killed your father
Now wears his crown.

HAMLET.
O my prophetic soul!
My uncle!

GHOST.
Yes, that incestuous, that adulterous beast,
With the charm of his intelligence, with treacherous gifts,—
Oh wicked intelligence, and gifts, that have the power
To seduce like this!—he won over to his shameful lust
The will of my seemingly virtuous queen.
Oh Hamlet, what a fall there was,
From me, whose love was so noble
That it went hand in hand with the vow
I made to her in marriage; and to turn
To a wretch whose natural gifts were so poor
Compared to mine. But virtue, as it never can be swayed,
Even when lewdness courts it in a heavenly guise;
So lust, though linked to a radiant angel,
Will satisfy itself in a heavenly bed
And feed on filth.
But wait! I think I smell the morning air;
Let me be brief. While I was sleeping in my orchard,
My usual habit in the afternoon,
At my secure hour, your uncle stole
With a vial of the cursed hebenon juice,
And poured the leprous distillate in my ears,
Which has such enmity with human blood
That it courses through the natural gates and passages of the body
As quickly as quicksilver does;
And with sudden vigor, it clots
And curdles, like eager droppings into milk,
The thin and wholesome blood. So it did to mine;
And a most immediate plague erupted,
Most leprous, with vile and loathsome crust
Over all my smooth body.
Thus was I, sleeping, dispatched by a brother’s hand,
Of life, of crown, of queen all at once:
Cut off even in the bloom of my sins,
Unblessed, disappointed, with no last rites;
No account taken, but sent to my fate
With all my imperfections on my head.
Oh horrible! Oh horrible! most horrible!
If you have any human nature in you, bear it not;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damned incest.
But however you pursue this act,
Don’t taint your mind, nor let your soul plot
Against your mother; leave her to heaven,
And to those thorns that lodge in her heart,
To prick and sting her. Farewell for now!
The glow-worm shows that morning is near,
And begins to pale its ineffective fire.
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. Remember me.

[Leave.]

HAMLET.
Oh, all you hosts of heaven! Oh, earth! What else?
And should I include hell? Oh, no! Hold on, my heart;
And you, my muscles, don’t become weak right away,
But support me firmly. Do I remember you?
Yes, you poor ghost, as long as memory occupies
This troubled world. Do I remember you?
Yes, from the table of my memory
I’ll erase all the trivial, sentimental records,
All the sayings from books, all forms, all past pressures,
That youth and experience copied there;
And your command all alone will live
Within the book and volume of my mind,
Unmixed with any lesser matters. Yes, by heaven!
Oh, most wicked woman!
Oh, villain, villain, smiling damned villain!
My notes. It’s fitting I write it down,
That one may smile, and smile, and still be a villain!
At least I know that can happen in Denmark.

Writing.

So, uncle, here you are. Now, to my point;
It is ‘Goodbye, goodbye, remember me.’
I have sworn to it.

HORATIO and MARCELLUS.
[In here.] My lord, my lord.

MARCELLUS.
[Inside.] Lord Hamlet.

HORATIO.
[Inside.] May heaven protect him.

HAMLET.
Let it be!

MARCELLUS.
[Inside.] Hey, my lord!

HAMLET.
Hey there, come here, little buddy! Come on, bird, come.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

MARCELLUS.
How are you, my lord?

HORATIO.
What's the news, my lord?

HAMLET.
Oh, amazing!

HORATIO.
Please, my lord, share it.

HAMLET.
No, you’ll spill the beans.

HORATIO.
Not me, my lord, I swear.

MARCELLUS.
Me neither, my lord.

HAMLET.
What do you think, could anyone even imagine it?—
But you'll keep it to yourself?

HORATIO and MARCELLUS.
Yes, by heaven, my lord.

HAMLET.
There’s not a single villain in all of Denmark
Who isn’t a complete scoundrel.

HORATIO.
We don’t need a ghost, my lord, to tell us this.

HAMLET.
Exactly; you’re right;
So, without any more fuss,
I think it’s best that we shake hands and say goodbye:
You, go follow your own goals and needs,—
Because everyone has their own goals and needs,
Whatever they may be;—and for my own part,
I’ll just go pray.

HORATIO.
These are just crazy and confusing words, my lord.

HAMLET.
I really regret that they upset you, truly;
Yes, truly.

HORATIO.
There's no offense, my lord.

HAMLET.
Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio,
And a lot of trouble too. Regarding this vision here,
It's a genuine ghost, let me tell you.
For your curiosity about what’s going on between us,
Take control of it as you can. And now, good friends,
Since you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,
I have one small request.

HORATIO.
What is it, my lord? We will.

HAMLET.
Don’t tell anyone what you saw tonight.

HORATIO and MARCELLUS.
My lord, we won't.

HAMLET.
No, but swear it.

HORATIO.
Honestly, my lord, not me.

Me neither, my lord, seriously.

HAMLET.
On my sword.

MARCELLUS.
We've already taken an oath, my lord.

HAMLET.
Seriously, upon my sword, seriously.

GHOST.
[Cries from under the stage.] I swear.

HAMLET.
Ha, ha boy, are you serious? Is that you, truepenny?
Come on, you hear this guy in the basement.
Agree to swear.

HORATIO.
Suggest the oath, my lord.

HAMLET.
Never speak of what you’ve seen here.
Swear on my sword.

GHOST.
[Beneath.] I swear.

HAMLET.
Here and everywhere? Then we’ll change our approach.
Come here, gentlemen,
And put your hands on my sword again.
Never to mention what you’ve heard.
Swear by my sword.

GHOST.
[Beneath.] Promise.

HAMLET.
Well said, old mole! Can you dig in the ground so quickly?
A worthy worker! Once again, move aside, good friends.

HORATIO.
Oh day and night, this is incredibly strange.

HAMLET.
So, as a stranger, welcome it.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than you can even imagine. But come,
As before, never, I swear to you,
No matter how strange or odd I may act,—
As I might decide in the future
To put on a crazy persona—
You must never, at those times when you see me,
With arms all loaded like this, or this head-shake,
Or by saying some vague phrase,
Like ‘Well, we know’, or ‘We could if we wanted’,
Or ‘If we choose to speak’; or ‘There are, and if they could’,
Or any such ambiguous comments, hint
That you know anything about me:—this you must not do.
So may grace and mercy help you when you need it most,
Swear.

GHOST.
[Beneath.] I swear.

HAMLET.
Rest, rest, troubled spirit. So, gentlemen,
With all my love, I commend myself to you;
And whatever a poor man like Hamlet can do
To show his love and friendship to you,
God willing, won't be missing. Let's go in together,
And keep your fingers on your lips, please.
The time is out of joint. O cursed fate,
That I was born to set it right.
Come on, let’s go together.

[Exit.]

Enter Polonius and Reynaldo.

POLONIUS.
Give Reynaldo this money and these notes.

REYNALDO.
Sure thing, my lord.

POLONIUS.
You’ll do very well, good Reynaldo,
Before you visit him, to check on his behavior.

REYNALDO.
My lord, I meant to do it.

POLONIUS.
Well said; very well said. Listen, sir,
First ask me what Danes are in Paris;
And who they are, what they want, and where they hang out,
What their company is like and how much they spend; and by
this line of questioning,
If you find that they know my son, get closer
than just your specific questions. Take it like you have some indirect knowledge of him,
Like saying, ‘I know his father and his friends,
and partly him’—do you understand this, Reynaldo?

REYNALDO.
Yes, very well, my lord.

POLONIUS.
'And partly him, but,’ you might say, ‘not in a good way;
But if it’s him I mean, he’s really reckless;
He’s into this and that;’ and there you can attribute to him
Whatever falsehoods you want; but make sure none are so severe
That they would bring him shame; be careful about that;
But, sir, those careless, wild, and common mistakes
That are typical and well-known
To youth and freedom.

REYNALDO.
Are you gaming, my lord?

POLONIUS.
Yeah, or drinking, fencing, cursing,
Arguing, partying. You can go that far.

REYNALDO.
My lord, that would bring shame on him.

POLONIUS.
No, definitely not, as you might phrase it in the accusation.
You shouldn’t imply another rumor about him,
That he is prone to reckless behavior;
That’s not what I mean: but present his faults in such a way
That they appear to be the marks of freedom;
The spark and eruption of a passionate mind,
A wildness in untamed blood,
Of general attack.

REYNALDO.
But my good man—

POLONIUS.
Why would you do this?

REYNALDO.
Yeah, my lord, I want to know that.

POLONIUS.
Well, sir, here’s what I mean,
And I think it’s a serious point.
You throwing these little insults at my son,
As if it was something minor in the making,
Just so you know,
Your side in conversation, the person you’d test,
Always having seen in the mentioned offenses
The young man you’re talking about is guilty, rest assured
He agrees with you on this;
‘Good sir,’ or something like that; or ‘friend,’ or ‘gentleman’—
Depending on the context or the title
Of the person and the place.

REYNALDO.
Sounds great, my lord.

POLONIUS.
And then, sir, he does this—
He does—What was I going to say?
By the mass, I was about to say something. Where did I leave off?

REYNALDO.
At ‘closes in the consequence.’
At ‘friend or so,’ and ‘gentleman.’

POLONIUS.
When it comes to "the result," yes, indeed!
He connects with you like this: "I know the guy,
I saw him yesterday or the other day,
Or sometime around then; and as you mentioned,
There he was gambling, there caught up in his fun,
There getting into a fight at tennis": or maybe,
"I saw him go into such-and-such place"—
Specifically, a brothel, or something like that. Do you see?
Your falsehood lures this truth.
And so, us wise and clever folks,
With twists and turns, and tests of influence,
Find our way through indirect means.
So, based on my earlier guidance and advice,
You will, my son. Do you understand me, right?

REYNALDO.
My lord, I’ve got it.

See you later, take care.

REYNALDO.
Good, my lord.

POLONIUS.
Notice his tendency in you.

REYNALDO.
Sure thing, my lord.

POLONIUS.
And let him play his music.

REYNALDO.
Alright, my lord.

POLONIUS.
Goodbye.

[Exit Reynaldo.]

Enter Ophelia.

How are you, Ophelia? What's going on?

OPHELIA.
Oh no, my lord, I have been so scared.

POLONIUS.
With what, for goodness' sake?

OPHELIA.
My lord, while I was sewing in my room,
Lord Hamlet, with his clothes all disheveled,
No hat on his head, his stockings dirty,
Hems undone, and hanging down to his ankles,
Pale like his shirt, his knees shaking together,
And with such a sorrowful look
As if he had just escaped from hell
To talk about terrible things, he comes to me.

Really into your love?

OPHELIA.
My lord, I’m not sure, but I really do fear it.

POLONIUS.
What did he say?

OPHELIA.
He grabbed my wrist and held it tightly;
Then he stretched out his arm;
And with his other hand over his forehead,
He stared at my face
As if he wanted to paint it. He stayed like that a long time,
Finally, after a little shake of my arm,
And three times nodding his head up and down,
He let out a sigh so pitiful and deep
That it seemed to shake him to his core
And almost end his existence. After that, he let me go,
And with his head turned back over his shoulder,
He appeared to find his way without seeing,
Because he walked out the door without their help,
And right until the end, his eyes were still on me.

POLONIUS.
Come, go with me. I’m going to talk to the King.
This is the peak of love,
Whose intense nature destroys itself,
And drives the will to reckless actions,
Just like any other emotion under the heavens
That troubles our hearts. I’m sorry,—
What, have you said anything harsh to him lately?

OPHELIA.
No, my good lord; but just as you instructed,
I turned away his letters and refused
His access to me.

POLONIUS.
That has driven him mad.
I regret that I didn’t pay better attention and use better judgment
when I quoted him. I worried he was just messing around,
and intended to destroy you. But curse my jealousy!
It seems it's just as typical for our age
to make assumptions about ourselves
as it is for younger people
to lack good sense. Come, let’s go to the King.
This needs to be known, and keeping it a secret might cause
more pain than just revealing love rather than hate.

[They exit.]

Enter King, Queen, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern and Attendants.

KING.
Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
We were eager to see you, and our need for your help
prompted us to send for you so quickly. You've likely heard
about Hamlet’s changes; that’s what I’m calling it,
since neither his outward appearance nor his inner self
is like it used to be. What could have caused this,
beyond his father’s death, which has pushed him
so far from understanding himself, I can’t imagine. I ask you both,
since you grew up with him and are so close to his youth and nature,
to please stay here in our court for a little while,
so you can engage him in some fun and find out,
as much as you can, whether anything we don’t know
is bothering him that we could help with if we understood it.

QUEEN.
Good gentlemen, he has talked a lot about you,
And I'm sure there are no two men alive
To whom he is more loyal. If you would be so kind
As to spend some time with us,
For the benefit and support of our hopes,
Your visit will be met with the gratitude
That is appropriate for a king's remembrance.

ROSENCRANTZ.
Both your majesties
Could, with the authority you have over us,
Demand your wishes more than just ask for them.

GUILDENSTERN.
We both agree,
And here we surrender ourselves completely,
To offer our service willingly at your feet
To be directed.

KING.
Thanks, Rosencrantz and kind Guildenstern.

QUEEN.
Thanks, Guildenstern and kind Rosencrantz.
And I ask you to go see
My son, who’s changed so much. Go, some of you,
And bring these gentlemen to where Hamlet is.

GUILDENSTERN.
May our presence and actions
Be pleasant and helpful to him.

QUEEN.
Yeah, amen.

[Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and some Attendants exit.]

Enter Polonius.

POLONIUS.
The ambassadors from Norway, my good lord,
Have happily returned.

KING.
You have always been the bearer of good news.

POLONIUS.
Have I, my lord? I assure you, my good king,
I take my duty as seriously as my soul,
Both to my God and to my gracious King:
And I believe—or else my mind isn’t
Following the path of strategy as well
As it used to—that I’ve found
The real reason behind Hamlet’s madness.

KING.
Oh, talk about that; I really want to hear it.

POLONIUS.
First, let the ambassadors in;
My news will be the highlight of that big event.

KING.
You should honor them and bring them in.

[Exit Polonius.]

He tells me, my sweet queen, that he has found
The main cause of all your son’s troubles.

QUEEN.
I suspect it's none other than the main issue,
His father's death and our rushed marriage.

KING.
Well, we'll figure him out.

Enter Polonius with Voltemand and Cornelius.

Welcome, my good friends!
So, Voltemand, what's the news from our brother Norway?

VOLTEMAND.
Most polite exchange of greetings and wishes.
In response to our initial communication, he sent out forces to put down
His nephew’s troops, which he thought
Were preparing against the Poles;
But upon closer inspection, he discovered
It was actually targeted at your Highness; which saddened him,
That due to his illness, age, and weakness
He was misled, so he issues orders
To Fortinbras; who briefly complies,
Receives criticism from Norway; and ultimately,
Promises his uncle never again
To challenge your Majesty in battle.
To which old Norway, filled with joy,
Grants him three thousand crowns as an annual salary,
And his commission to use those soldiers
Gathered previously against the Poles:
With a request, detailed further here,
[Hands over a document.]
That it would be pleasing for you to allow a safe passage
Through your lands for this mission,
Under the terms of safety and permissions
As outlined in this document.

KING.
It likes us a lot;
And when we have a moment, we’ll read,
Respond, and think about this matter.
In the meantime, we appreciate your hard work.
Go get some rest, tonight we’ll celebrate together.
You’re very welcome home.

[Exit Voltemand and Cornelius.]

POLONIUS.
This matter is well concluded.
Your highness and my lady, to discuss
What greatness should be, what duty means,
Why day is day, night is night, and time is time
Would only waste night, day, and time.
So, since brevity is the essence of wit,
And lengthy explanations are just distractions,
I’ll keep it short. Your noble son is crazy.
I call it crazy; for to truly define madness,
What is it but to be nothing more than crazy?
But let’s move past that.

QUEEN.
More substance, less style.

POLONIUS.
Madam, I promise I’m not using any tricks at all.
That he’s crazy, it’s true: it’s true it’s a shame;
And it’s a shame it’s true. A foolish situation,
But let’s forget about it, because I won’t use any tricks.
Let’s agree he’s mad then. And now we need
To find out what’s causing this behavior,
Or rather, what’s causing this flaw,
Because this problematic behavior comes from a cause.
So it stands, and this is the rest. Think about it,
I have a daughter—while she is mine—
Who in her duty and obedience, notice,
Has given me this. Now think, and guess.
[Reads.]
To the heavenly, and my soul’s idol, the most beautiful Ophelia—
That’s a terrible phrase, an awful phrase; ‘beautiful’ is an awful
phrase: but you’ll hear it.
[Reads.]
these; in her lovely white bosom, these, &c.

QUEEN.
Did this come from Hamlet to her?

POLONIUS.
Good lady, please stay a moment; I will be honest.
[Reads.]
  Question whether the stars are fire,
     Question whether the sun moves,
   Question whether truth is a liar,
     But never doubt that I love you.
Oh dear Ophelia, I struggle with these words. I can’t express my pain in numbers. But that I love you the most, oh, the very most, believe it. Goodbye.
  Yours forever, dearest lady, as long as this life lasts,
     HAMLET.
My daughter has shown me this out of obedience;
And more than that, I’ve heard all his advances,
As they happened over time, through circumstances, and in the right place,
All shared with me.

KING.
But how has she received his love?

POLONIUS.
What do you think of me?

KING.
As a man who is loyal and honorable.

POLONIUS.
I'd love to prove that. But what would you think,
When I saw this intense love in action?
As I understood it, I have to tell you that,
Before my daughter mentioned it, what would you,
Or my dear Majesty, your queen here, think,
If I had acted like an indifferent bystander,
Or kept my heart closed, silent and passive,
Or looked at this love without any concern?
What would you think? No, I took a different approach,
And this is what I said to my young lady:
‘Lord Hamlet is a prince, not meant for you.
This can't happen.’ And then I instructed her
To shut herself off from his company,
To refuse all messages and gifts.
After following my advice,
She saw the results, and he, turned away,—
To sum it up quickly,—
Fell into sadness, then into fasting,
From there to sleepless nights, then to weakness,
Then to a carefree attitude, and, through this decline,
Into the madness he’s in now,
And for which we all mourn.

KING.
Do you think it's this?

QUEEN.
It could be, very likely.

POLONIUS.
Has there ever been a time, I’d really like to know,
That I have definitely said ‘’Tis so,’
When it turned out to be false?

KING.
Not that I’m aware.

POLONIUS.
Take this from this, if it’s different.
[Points to his head and shoulder.]
If the situation guides me, I will discover
Where the truth is hidden, even if it’s buried
At the core.

KING.
How can we test it more?

POLONIUS.
You know sometimes he walks for four hours straight
here in the lobby.

QUEEN.
So he really does.

POLONIUS.
At that time, I’ll let my daughter see him.
You and I will hide behind a curtain,
And watch how it goes. If he doesn’t love her,
And isn’t crazy because of it,
Then let me not help with politics,
But just manage a farm and cart drivers.

KING.
We'll give it a shot.

Enter Hamlet, reading.

QUEEN.
But look, here comes the poor unfortunate reading sadly.

POLONIUS.
Please, just go away, both of you.
I'll talk to him right now. Oh, just let me go.

[King, Queen, and Attendants exit.]

How is my good friend Hamlet?

HAMLET.
Well, thank God.

POLONIUS.
Do you recognize me, my lord?

HAMLET.
Awesome. You're a fishmonger.

Not I, my lord.

HAMLET.
Then I wish you were a genuinely honest person.

POLONIUS.
Really, my lord?

HAMLET.
Yeah, man, to be real in this world is to be one person chosen out of ten thousand.

POLONIUS.
That’s so true, my lord.

HAMLET.
Because if the sun makes maggots in a dead dog, which is a decent rotting corpse,—
Do you have a daughter?

I have, my lord.

HAMLET.
Don't let her walk in the sun. Being able to have children is a blessing, but not the way your daughter might imagine it. Friend, be careful.

POLONIUS.
What do you think about that? [Aside.] Still going on about my daughter. He didn't recognize me at first; he called me a fishmonger. He's really lost it, really lost it. Honestly, when I was young, I went through a lot for love; it was very similar to this. I’ll talk to him again.—What are you reading, my lord?

HAMLET.
Blah, blah, blah.

POLONIUS.
What's happening, my lord?

HAMLET.
Between whom?

POLONIUS.
I’m talking about the issue you just read, my lord.

HAMLET.
That's just slander, sir. The sarcastic fool claims here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes leaking thick amber and plum gum, and that they have a serious lack of intelligence, along with very weak thighs. All of which, sir, I completely and firmly believe, yet I don't think it's honest to state it like this. Because you yourself, sir, should be as old as I am, if you could move backwards like a crab.

POLONIUS.
[Aside.] Even though this seems crazy, there’s some logic to it.—
Are you going to step out of the air, my lord?

HAMLET.
Into my grave?

POLONIUS.
Actually, that’s out of the blue. [Aside.] Sometimes, his responses are so insightful! It’s a luck that madness often stumbles upon, something reason and sanity couldn’t express as successfully. I’ll leave him now and quickly come up with a way for him to meet my daughter.
My esteemed lord, I will respectfully take my leave.

HAMLET.
You can’t take anything from me that I’d be more willing to give up, except my life, except my life, except my life.

Take care, my lord.

HAMLET.
These annoying old fools.

Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

POLONIUS.
You're going to see Lord Hamlet; there he is.

ROSENCRANTZ.
[To Polonius.] Hi there, sir.

[Exit Polonius.]

GUILDENSTERN.
My respected lord!

ROSENCRANTZ.
My dearest lord!

HAMLET.
My excellent good friends! How are you, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz. Good guys, how are you both?

ROSENCRANTZ.
Like the uninterested kids of the world.

GUILDENSTERN.
Glad that we’re not overly happy;
We’re not the top of Fortune’s cap.

HAMLET.
Not even the soles of her shoes?

ROSENCRANTZ.
No, my lord.

HAMLET.
So you hang out around her waist, or in the middle of her charms?

GUILDENSTERN.
Trust, her secrets we.

HAMLET.
In the hidden aspects of luck? Oh, that's so true; she's unfaithful. What’s the news?

ROSENCRANTZ.
None, my lord, except that the world has become honest.

HAMLET.
Then doomsday is close. But your news isn't true. Let me ask more specifics. What have you, my good friends, done to deserve this from Fortune, that she sends you to prison here?

GUILDENSTERN.
Prison, my lord?

HAMLET.
Denmark is a prison.

ROSENCRANTZ.
Then the world is one.

HAMLET.
It's a nice place; it has a lot of boundaries, watchtowers, and dungeons, with Denmark being one of the worst.

ROSENCRANTZ.
We don't think so, my lord.

HAMLET.
Well, then it doesn't matter to you; because there's nothing that’s really good or bad, it’s all about how we think about it. To me, it feels like a prison.

ROSENCRANTZ.
Then your ambition makes it one; it's too small for your mind.

HAMLET.
Oh God, I could be contained in a nutshell and consider myself the king of limitless space, if only I didn't have such terrible dreams.

GUILDENSTERN.
Which dreams, in fact, are ambition; because the essence of the ambitious is just the shadow of a dream.

HAMLET.
A dream is just a shadow.

ROSENCRANTZ.
Honestly, I have such a light and fleeting sense of ambition that it’s just a shadow of a shadow.

HAMLET.
Then our beggars are just bodies, while our kings and stretched-out heroes are merely shadows of those beggars. Shall we head to the court? Because, honestly, I can't think straight.

ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.
We’ll be here for you.

HAMLET.
That's not important. I won’t include you with the rest of my staff; to be honest, I’m dealing with some serious trouble. But, as friends do, why are you here in Elsinore?

ROSENCRANTZ.
I'm just here to see you, my lord, and for no other reason.

HAMLET.
As much as I appreciate it, I feel like a beggar because I’m not very good at expressing my gratitude; but I thank you anyway. And honestly, my thanks might be worth more than they seem. Were you called here? Is this something you chose to do? Is this just a friendly visit? Come on, be honest with me. Come on, don’t hold back; speak up.

GUILDENSTERN.
What should we say, my lord?

HAMLET.
Why, anything. But let’s get to the point. You were summoned; and there’s a certain acknowledgment in your expressions that your modesty can’t really hide. I know the good King and Queen have called for you.

ROSENCRANTZ.
What's the purpose, my lord?

HAMLET.
You have to teach me that. But please, I ask you, by the bond of our friendship, by the harmony of our youth, by the duty of our lasting love, and by whatever more precious a better person could ask of you, be straightforward with me and tell me if you were sent for or not.

ROSENCRANTZ.
[To Guildenstern.] What do you say?

HAMLET.
[Aside.] Well, now I see what you're doing. If you care about me, don't pull away.

GUILDENSTERN.
My lord, we got called.

HAMLET.
Let me explain why; this way I can share my thoughts before you find out, and your secret will remain safe with the King and Queen. Recently, for reasons I can’t explain, I’ve lost all my joy and given up all my usual activities; it weighs so heavily on my mind that this beautiful world feels to me like a barren rock; this incredible sky, this amazing dome sprinkled with golden light, just seems to me like a disgusting and toxic cloud of vapors. What a piece of work is man—so noble in thought, so limitless in abilities, in shape and motion, so distinct and admirable; in action, like an angel; in understanding, like a god: the beauty of the world, the finest of animals. And yet, to me, what is this essence of dust? Man doesn’t delight me; nor does woman, even though your smile suggests otherwise.

ROSENCRANTZ.
My lord, those thoughts never crossed my mind.

HAMLET.
Why did you laugh when I said, 'People don't interest me'?

ROSENCRANTZ.
Just think, my lord, if you don't enjoy being around people, what a dull time the players will have with you. We ran into them on the way, and here they are coming to offer their services to you.

HAMLET.
The one who plays the king will be welcome—his Majesty will receive my tribute; the brave knight will use his sword and shield; the lover won’t sigh for no reason, the funny guy will finish his role peacefully; the clown will make those laugh whose lungs are tickled by the dry season; and the lady will express her thoughts honestly, or the blank verse will stumble because of it. What actors are they?

ROSENCRANTZ.
Even those you used to enjoy so much—the actors of the city.

HAMLET.
Why do they travel? Their home was better for them in terms of reputation and profit.

ROSENCRANTZ.
I think their hesitation comes from the recent changes.

HAMLET.
Do they think of me the same way they did when I was in the city? Are they still as popular?

ROSENCRANTZ.
No, they're definitely not.

HAMLET.
What’s going on? Are they getting rusty?

ROSENCRANTZ.
No, their effort is still moving at the usual speed; but there’s, sir, a group of kids, little ones, making a lot of noise at the top of the question, and they’re being pushed to perform in a really overbearing way. These are the latest trend, and they’re causing such a ruckus on the common stages—so they call them—that many people with swords are scared of these kids and hardly dare to show up there.

HAMLET.
What, are they kids? Who supports them? How are they being treated? Will they only keep up the act as long as they can perform? Won't they later complain if they end up being just regular actors—which is likely if they don’t have better resources—arguing that their writers have done them dirty by making them criticize their own future?

ROSENCRANTZ.
Honestly, there's been a lot going on on both sides; and the country thinks it's no wrong to provoke them into a debate. For a while, there was no incentive to argue unless the poet and the actor got into a fight over it.

HAMLET.
Is it possible?

GUILDENSTERN.
Oh, there's been a lot of brainwork going on.

HAMLET.
Do the guys take it away?

ROSENCRANTZ.
Yes, they do, my lord. Just like Hercules and his burden too.

HAMLET.
It's not that strange; my uncle is the King of Denmark, and those who used to mock him when my father was alive now pay twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred ducats each for his likeness. Damn it, there’s something unnatural about this if philosophy could figure it out.

Trumpets playing inside.

GUILDENSTERN.
Here come the players.

HAMLET.
Gentlemen, welcome to Elsinore. Come here, shake hands. The proper way to welcome you is through tradition and rituals. Let me join you in this moment, so my performance for the actors, which I assure you should be quite evident, doesn’t come off more like a show than your presence deserves. You are welcome. But my uncle-father and aunt-mother are mistaken.

GUILDENSTERN.
In what, my dear friend?

HAMLET.
I’m only crazy in a specific way. When the wind is coming from the south, I can tell a hawk from a handsaw.

Enter Polonius.

Polonius: Take care, gentlemen.

HAMLET.
Listen, Guildenstern, and you too, with an ear for each. That big baby you see over there is still in diapers.

ROSENCRANTZ.
Fortunately, he’s come to them for the second time; because they say an old man is like a child again.

HAMLET.
I predict he's here to tell me about the actors. Remember that.—You’re right, sir: it was indeed like that for a Monday morning.

POLONIUS.
My lord, I have some news for you.

HAMLET.
My lord, I have news to share with you. When Roscius was an actor in Rome—

POLONIUS.
The actors have arrived, my lord.

HAMLET.
Buzz, buzz.

POLONIUS.
I swear.

HAMLET.
Then each actor showed up on his donkey—

POLONIUS.
The best actors in the world, whether for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comedy, historical-pastoral, tragic-historical, tragic-comedy-historical-pastoral, a seamless scene, or an endless poem. Seneca can't be too serious, nor can Plautus be too funny, because of the rules of writing and the freedom of expression. These are the only ones that matter.

HAMLET.
Oh Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure you had!

POLONIUS.
What treasure did he have, my lord?

HAMLET.
Why—
'One beautiful daughter, and no more,
The one he loved very dearly.'

POLONIUS.
[Aside.] Still on my daughter.

HAMLET.
Am I not in the right, old Jephthah?

POLONIUS.
If you're calling me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter whom I care for very much.

HAMLET.
No, that doesn't follow.

POLONIUS.
What's next, my lord?

HAMLET.
Why,
   As fate would have it, God knows,
and then, you know,
   It happened just as you’d expect.
The first line of the sacred song will reveal more to you. For see where my summary begins.

Enter four or five players.

Welcome, everyone, so glad to see you all. Hello, good friends. Oh, my old friend! You look different since I last saw you. Are you here to confront me in Denmark? And my young lady! I must say, you seem closer to heaven than when I last saw you, by quite a bit. I hope your voice, like a rare coin, isn’t cracked. Everyone, you’re all welcome. Let's dive in like French falconers, going after whatever we see. Let’s hear a speech right away. Come on, show us what you’ve got. Give us an impassioned speech!

FIRST PLAYER.
What are you talking about, my lord?

HAMLET.
I once heard you give a speech, but it was never performed, or if it was, it was only once, because the play didn’t really connect with the audience; it was like caviar to the average person. But it was—as I received it, and others whose judgments on such things I trust—an excellent play, well-structured in the scenes, presented with as much humility as skill. I remember one person said there were no exciting elements in the lines to make it appealing, nor anything in the wording that could suggest the author was trying too hard, but they called it a straightforward method, as good as it is sweet, and certainly more attractive than just fancy. There was one speech in it that I particularly loved. It was Aeneas’ story to Dido, especially the part where he talks about Priam’s death. If you remember it, start from this line, let me see, let me see:
   The rugged Pyrrhus, like th’ Hyrcanian beast,—
It’s not right: it starts with Pyrrhus—
   The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms,
   Black as his purpose, did the night resemble
   When he lay couched in the ominous horse,
   Hath now this dread and black complexion smear’d
   With heraldry more dismal. Head to foot
   Now is he total gules, horridly trick’d
   With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,
   Bak’d and impasted with the parching streets,
   That lend a tyrannous and a damned light
   To their vile murders. Roasted in wrath and fire,
   And thus o’ersized with coagulate gore,
   With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
   Old grandsire Priam seeks.
So, go ahead.

POLONIUS.
"For God’s sake, my lord, well said, with a good tone and good judgment."

FIRST PLAYER.
   Suddenly he finds him,
   Striking too short at the Greeks. His ancient sword,
   Rebellious to his grip, lies where it drops,
   Resistant to control. An unequal match,
   Pyrrhus drives against Priam, striking wildly in rage;
   But with the swish and gust of his deadly sword
   The helpless father falls. Then the senseless city,
   Seeming to feel this blow, with its burning top
   Lowers to its base, and with a loud crash
   Holds captive Pyrrhus’s ear. For behold, his sword,
   Which was poised over the pale head
   Of venerable Priam, seemed to hang in the air.
   So, like a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood,
   And like a bystander to his will and actions,
   Did nothing.
   But as we often see before a storm,
   A calm in the sky, the clouds standing still,
   The strong winds silent, and the earth below
   As quiet as death, suddenly the dreadful thunder
   Rips through the area; so after Pyrrhus’s pause,
   Awakened vengeance drives him back to work,
   And never did the Cyclops’ hammers fall
   On Mars’s armor, forged for eternal use,
   With less heartlessness than Pyrrhus’ bloody sword
   Now falls on Priam.
   Out, out, you whore, Fortune! All you gods,
   In general assembly, strip her of power;
   Break all the spokes and rims from her wheel,
   And roll the wheel down the hill of heaven,
   As low as to the demons.

POLONIUS.
This is too long.

HAMLET.
It'll go to the barber’s, with your beard.—Please continue.
He’s up for a dance or a dirty story, or he's just sleeping.
Go on; let's get to Hecuba.

FIRST PLAYER.
But who, oh who, had seen the disheveled queen,—

HAMLET.
'The messy queen'?

POLONIUS.
That's great! "Mobled queen" is fantastic.

FIRST PLAYER.
   Running barefoot back and forth, threatening the flames
   With tears streaming down. A rag on her head
   Where a crown used to be, and as for a robe,
   Around her thin, trembling body,
   A blanket, caught up in panic—
   Anyone who saw this, with words full of bitterness,
   Would have declared treason against Fortune’s power.
   But if the gods themselves were watching her at that moment,
   When she saw Pyrrhus cruelly playing
   With her husband’s severed limbs,
   The immediate shout she let out—
   Unless mortal affairs mean nothing to them—
   Would have made the burning eyes of heaven weep,
   And filled the gods with emotion.

POLONIUS.
Look, he hasn’t changed color, and he has tears in his eyes. Please, no more.

HAMLET.
It's fine. I'll have you finish the rest of this soon.—Good my lord, will you make sure the actors are taken care of? Do you hear me? Treat them well; they are the summaries and brief histories of the time. After you die, you'd rather have a bad epitaph than their poor reputation while you're still alive.

POLONIUS.
My lord, I will treat them according to what they deserve.

HAMLET.
Goodness, man, much better. Treat everyone according to what they deserve, and who would escape punishment? Treat them according to your own honor and dignity. The less they deserve, the more merit there is in your kindness. Bring them in.

Polonius: Come on, guys.

HAMLET.
Let's follow him, friends. We'll hear a play tomorrow.

[Exit Polonius with all the Players except the First.]

Do you hear me, old friend? Can you play The Murder of Gonzago?

Sure, my lord.

HAMLET.
We’ll have it tomorrow night. If you need to, you could memorize a speech of about twelve or sixteen lines that I would write down and include, right?

Sure thing, my lord.

HAMLET.
Okay. Follow that lord, and make sure you don't mock him.

[Leave First Player.]

[To Rosencrantz and Guildenstern] My good friends, I’ll see you tonight. You’re welcome at Elsinore.

Rosencrantz.
Hello, my lord.

[Exit Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.]

HAMLET.
Yeah, so, goodbye to you. Now I'm alone.
Oh, what a fool and peasant I am!
Isn't it insane that this actor here,
Just in a performance, in a passionate dream,
Can stir his soul so intensely in his own mind
That from this effort all his face grows pale;
Tears in his eyes, madness in his expression,
A broken voice, and his whole demeanor matching
The roles he’s playing? And all for nothing!
For Hecuba?
What does Hecuba mean to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should cry for her? What would he do,
If he had the motive and prompt for passion
That I have? He would flood the stage with tears
And pierce the audience with horrifying words;
Drive the guilty mad, and shock the innocent,
Confound the ignorant, and truly amaze,
The very abilities of sight and sound. Yet I,
A dull and muddy-minded fool, pout
Like a daydreamer, clueless about my cause,
And can’t say anything. Not even for a king
For whom a horrible defeat was made against his life.
Am I a coward?
Who calls me a villain, strikes my head?
Pulls out my beard and blows it in my face?
Tweaks my nose, gives me a lie in my throat
So deep it goes to my lungs? Who does this to me?
Ha! By heaven, I should take it: because it can't be
But I'm weak-hearted and lack the gall
To make this oppression painful, or I would have
Feasted all the scavengers with this coward's waste. Bloody, disgusting villain!
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, cruel villain!
Oh, revenge!
Why, what an idiot I am! This is so brave,
That I, the son of a dearly murdered father,
Pushed to seek my revenge by heaven and hell,
Must, like a whore, spill my heart with words
And start cursing like a common maid,
A kitchen servant! Shame on it! Ugh!
Use your brain! I've heard
That guilty people sitting in a play,
Have been so struck by the power of the scene,
That they immediately proclaimed their crimes.
For murder, though it has no voice, will speak
With the most miraculous power. I’ll have these actors
Perform something like my father’s murder
Before my uncle. I’ll watch his face;
I’ll probe him to the quick. If he even flinches,
I know my path. The spirit I’ve seen
Might be the devil, and the devil has the power
To take on a pleasing appearance, yeah, and maybe
Out of my weakness and my sadness,
Because he’s very good with such spirits,
Manipulates me to damn me. I need more proof
Than this. The play's the thing
Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the King.

[Leave.]

Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

KING.
Is there no way you can find out from him why he’s acting so strangely, disrupting all his peaceful days with this chaotic and risky madness?

ROSENCRANTZ.
He admits he feels confused,
But he won't say what it is that's bothering him.

GUILDENSTERN.
We also notice that he's not eager to open up,
But with a sly craziness, he stays distant
When we try to get him to admit
His true situation.

QUEEN.
Did he treat you well?

ROSENCRANTZ.
Looks like a gentleman.

GUILDENSTERN.
But with a lot of pushing of his character.

ROSENCRANTZ.
Stingy with questions, but very open with his answers.

QUEEN.
Did you try to get him involved in any activities?

ROSENCRANTZ.
Ma'am, it just so happened that we ran into some actors
On our way. We told him about them,
And he seemed kind of happy
To hear that. They’re in the court,
And, if I’m not mistaken, they’ve already arranged
To perform for him tonight.

POLONIUS.
It’s true;
And he asked me to urge your Majesties
To hear and see the situation.

KING.
With all my heart; and it makes me very happy
To hear him so motivated.
Good gentlemen, encourage him even more,
And push his intentions toward these pleasures.

Sure thing, my lord.

[Rosencrantz and Guildenstern exit.]

KING.
Sweet Gertrude, please leave us too,
Because we’ve called Hamlet here,
So that, as if by chance, he might run into Ophelia.
Her father and I, legitimate observers,
Will position ourselves so that, watching without being seen,
We can openly judge their interaction,
And figure out from him, based on how he acts,
If it’s really his love that causes him to suffer like this.

QUEEN.
I will do as you say.
And as for you, Ophelia, I truly hope
That your kindness is the reason
For Hamlet’s craziness: then I can hope your qualities
Will help him return to his usual self,
For both your honors.

OPHELIA.
Ma'am, I hope it does.

[Exit Queen.]

POLONIUS.
Ophelia, come walk with me here.—If it pleases you,
We’ll spend some time together.—[To Ophelia.] Read this book,
So that the appearance of being busy might lighten
Your solitude.—We often make mistakes here,
It’s too well-known that with a face of devotion
And good deeds, we can mask
Even the devil himself.

KING.
[Aside.] Oh, it’s too true!
How sharp that comment cuts into my conscience!
The face of a prostitute, covered in makeup,
Is not more hideous to the thing that enhances it
Than my actions are to my most deceptive words.
Oh, what a heavy weight!

POLONIUS.
I hear him coming. Let's step back, my lord.

[Exit King and Polonius.]

Enter Hamlet.

HAMLET.
To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Is it nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take up arms against a sea of troubles,
And, by opposing, end them? To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: it’s a conclusion
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep.
To sleep, maybe to dream—ah, there’s the catch,
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes the calamity of such a long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contempt,
The pains of unrequited love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the insults
That patient merit of the unworthy endures,
When he himself could make his quietus
With a simple dagger? Who would bear these burdens,
To grunt and sweat through a weary life,
Except that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country, from whose border
No traveler returns, confuses the will,
And makes us prefer to bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know nothing about?
Thus conscience makes cowards of us all,
And thus the natural color of resolution
Is sickened by the pale cast of thought,
And great enterprises,
With this concern, lose their momentum
And lose the name of action. Soft, here comes
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in your prayers
Remember all my sins.

OPHELIA.
Hello, my lord,
How have you been these past few days?

HAMLET.
Thank you so much; alright, alright, alright.

OPHELIA.
My lord, I have some things of yours
That I've been wanting to return for a while.
Please, take them now.

HAMLET.
No, not me.
I never gave you anything.

OPHELIA.
My respected lord, you know very well that you did,
And with such sweet words crafted
That made the things even richer; their scent faded,
Take these back; for a noble mind
Sees valuable gifts as worthless when the givers are unkind.
There, my lord.

HAMLET.
Ha, ha! Are you for real?

OPHELIA.
My lord?

HAMLET.
Are you beautiful?

OPHELIA.
What does your lordship mean?

HAMLET.
If you're honest and beautiful, your honesty shouldn't let anything distract from your beauty.

OPHELIA.
Could beauty, my lord, have a better connection than with honesty?

HAMLET.
Yeah, really; because the power of beauty can change honesty into a pimp faster than honesty can change beauty to its own level. This used to seem like a paradox, but now the times prove it true. I did love you once.

OPHELIA.
Honestly, my lord, you really made me believe that.

HAMLET.
You shouldn’t have trusted me; because virtue can't completely change our old nature. We still feel its effects. I didn’t love you.

I was more deceived.

HAMLET.
Get yourself to a nunnery. Why would you want to be responsible for bringing sinners into the world? I myself am somewhat honest; but I could still accuse myself of things that would make it better if my mother had never given birth to me. I am very proud, vengeful, ambitious, with more wrongdoings at my disposal than I have thoughts to express them, imagination to give them form, or time to act on them. What should people like me do, crawling between earth and heaven? We’re all terrible deceivers, don't trust any of us. Go on to a nunnery. Where’s your father?

At home, my lord.

HAMLET.
Close the doors on him so he can be a fool only in his own home. Goodbye.

OPHELIA.
O help him, you kind heavens!

HAMLET.
If you get married, I’ll give you this curse as your dowry. You can be as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, but you won’t escape slander. Get yourself to a convent, go: goodbye. Or if you must marry, marry a fool; because wise men know exactly what kind of monsters you turn them into. To a convent, go; and do it quickly. Goodbye.

OPHELIA.
Oh heavenly powers, bring him back!

HAMLET.
I've heard about your paintings too, pretty well. God gave you one face, and you make yourselves another. You dance, you walk around, and you talk in a silly way, giving names to God's creatures, turning your recklessness into ignorance. Enough, I won't tolerate it any longer; it's driven me insane. I say, we won't have any more marriages. Those who are already married, all but one, will stay alive; the rest will stay as they are. Go to a nunnery.

[Leave.]

OPHELIA.
Oh, what a noble mind has been destroyed!
The perspective of the courtier, the soldier, the scholar,
The hope and pride of the beautiful state,
The model of style and the standard of grace,
The one admired by all observers, is completely fallen!
And I, the most miserable and wretched of women,
Who enjoyed the sweetness of his musical vows,
Now see that noble and powerful reasoning,
Like sweet bells out of tune and sounding harsh,
That unmatched beauty and youth,
Ruined by ecstasy. Oh, woe is me,
To have witnessed what I've seen and to see what I see now.

Enter King and Polonius.

KING.
Love? His feelings don’t go that way,
And what he said, even though it was a bit off,
Wasn't really madness. There's something in his heart
That his sadness just keeps dwelling on,
And I fear that what comes from that
Might bring some trouble. To avoid that,
I've decided quickly
That he should go to England
To address our overdue tribute:
Maybe the different seas and lands,
With their changing sights, will help clear
This issue that's settled in his heart,
Which is making him act so unlike himself. What do you think?

POLONIUS.
That sounds good. But I still believe
The source of his sadness
Came from unreturned love. What’s up, Ophelia?
You don’t need to tell us what Lord Hamlet said,
We heard it all. My lord, do as you wish,
But if you think it’s best, after the play,
Let his mother, the queen, talk to him alone
To encourage him to express his feelings, let her be straightforward with him,
And I’ll be positioned, if that pleases you, to overhear
All of their conversation. If she doesn’t get through to him,
Send him to England; or confine him wherever
You think is best.

KING.
It will be done.
We can't let madness in powerful people go unchecked.

[Exit.]

Enter Hamlet and some Players.

HAMLET.
Please deliver the speech just like I taught you, fluid and easy. But if you just blurt it out like many actors do, I’d prefer the town crier read my lines. And don’t overdo it with hand gestures; use them sparingly. In the midst of passion's storm, you need to maintain a control that keeps it smooth. It really bothers me to hear some loud, over-the-top guy tear apart a performance, turning it into shreds, and creating such a racket that only confuses the groundlings, who mostly can’t handle anything but meaningless gestures and noise. I’d have such a person punished for overdoing it. It's excessive. Please steer clear of that.

I assure you, your honor.

HAMLET.
Don't be too dull either; just let your own judgment guide you. Match the action to the words and the words to the action, with the special point that you don’t go beyond the modesty of nature; because anything done excessively strays from the point of acting, which is, both at the beginning and now, to hold up a mirror to nature; to show virtue its own likeness, reveal scorn its own image, and portray the very age and shape of the time. Now, when something is overdone or comes off awkwardly, although it may make the unskilled laugh, it surely makes the discerning upset; and their judgment is what you should consider more than an entire theater of others. Oh, there are actors I’ve seen perform—and heard others praise highly—not to say it disrespectfully, who, lacking the accent of Christians, or the manner of any decent person, have strutted and shouted in such a way that I thought some of Nature’s workers had made them, but not very well, as they imitated humanity so grotesquely.

FIRST PLAYER.
I hope we've managed to fix that fairly well, sir.

HAMLET.
Oh, change it completely. And let those who are playing your clowns say nothing more than what is written for them. Because there are some who will laugh themselves, trying to get a bunch of uninterested spectators to laugh along, even when something important about the play needs to be considered. That’s just shameful and shows a really sad ambition in the fool who does it. Now go get ready.

[Players exit.]

Enter Polonius, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

How's it going, my lord?
Will the King listen to this work?

POLONIUS.
And the Queen as well, and that soon.

HAMLET.
Tell the actors to hurry.

[Exit Polonius.]

Will you both help speed things up?

ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.
We will, my lord.

[Rosencrantz and Guildenstern exit.]

Hamlet.
Hey, Horatio!

Enter Horatio.

HORATIO.
Here I am, my lord, ready to help you.

HAMLET.
Horatio, you are just as good a man
As anyone I’ve ever talked to.

HORATIO.
Oh my dear lord.

HAMLET.
No, don’t think I’m flattering you;
What advancement can I expect from you,
When you have no wealth, only your good spirit
To feed and clothe yourself? Why should the poor be flattered?
Let the smooth talkers indulge in ridiculous pride,
And bend the knee where thrift might come from flattery. Do you hear?
Since my dear soul was in control of her choice,
And could distinguish between men, her decision
Has marked you as hers. For you have been
Like one who suffers all but feels nothing,
A man who has taken Fortune’s blows and rewards
With equal gratitude. And blessed are those
Whose blood and judgment are so well combined
That they are not just a tool for Fortune
To play whatever tune she likes. Give me that man
Who is not a slave to his passions, and I will cherish him
In my heart, yes, in the deepest part of my heart,
As I do with you. This is getting a bit too much.
There's a play tonight in front of the King.
One scene is very close to what I’ve told you about my father’s death.
I beg you, when you see that act unfold,
With all the depth of your soul,
Watch my uncle. If his hidden guilt
Doesn't reveal itself in one speech,
Then we have seen a damned ghost;
And my thoughts are as foul
As Vulcan’s forge. Pay careful attention to him;
I will fix my eyes on his face;
And afterward, we will both join our judgments
In criticizing his appearance.

HORATIO.
Well, my lord.
If he steals anything while this play is on,
And gets away with it, I’ll cover the loss.

HAMLET.
They’re coming to the play. I need to act casual.
Find yourself a seat.

Danish march. A flourish. Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern and others.

KING.
How is our cousin Hamlet?

HAMLET.
Great, honestly; like a chameleon’s meal: I’m eating the empty promises in the air: you can’t feed capons that way.

KING.
I have nothing to do with this response, Hamlet; those words aren't mine.

HAMLET.
No, not mine either. [To Polonius.] My lord, you performed once at the university, didn’t you?

POLONIUS.
I did that, my lord, and was considered a good actor.

HAMLET.
What did you perform?

POLONIUS.
I played Julius Caesar. I was killed in the Capitol. Brutus killed me.

HAMLET.
It was really cruel of him to kill such a valuable calf there. Are the players ready?

ROSENCRANTZ.
Yes, my lord; they are waiting for you to make the next move.

QUEEN.
Come here, my dear Hamlet, sit next to me.

HAMLET.
No, good mother, here's something much more interesting.

POLONIUS.
[To the King.] Oh, do you see that?

HAMLET.
Lady, can I rest my head in your lap?

Lying down at Ophelia's feet.

OPHELIA.
No, my lord.

HAMLET.
Do you mean, my head on your lap?

OPHELIA.
Yes, my lord.

HAMLET.
Do you think I was talking about rural issues?

OPHELIA.
I don’t think about anything, my lord.

HAMLET.
That’s a nice thought to have between girls’ legs.

OPHELIA.
What is it, my lord?

HAMLET.
Nada.

OPHELIA.
You’re cheerful, my lord.

HAMLET.
Me?

OPHELIA.
Yes, my lord.

HAMLET.
Oh God, your only entertainer! What should a man do but be happy? Just look at how cheerful my mom looks, and my dad died just two hours ago.

OPHELIA.
No, it's been two months, my lord.

HAMLET.
So long? Well then, let the devil wear black, because I’ll get a suit made of sable. Oh heavens! He died two months ago, and people still remember him? Then there’s hope that a great man's memory can last longer than his life by half a year. But, honestly, he better build churches then; otherwise, he’ll suffer from being forgotten, like the hobby horse, whose epitaph is ‘For, oh, for oh, the hobby horse is forgotten!’

Trumpets play. The silent performance begins.

Enter a King and a Queen very affectionately; the Queen embraces him and he her. She kneels and pretends to protest to him. He lifts her up and rests his head on her neck. He lies down on a bed of flowers. She, seeing him asleep, leaves him. Soon, a man enters, removes the King’s crown, kisses it, pours poison into the King’s ears, and exits. The Queen returns, finds the King dead, and reacts with intense emotion. The Poisoner comes back in with three or four Mutes, seeming to mourn with her. The dead body is taken away. The Poisoner tries to win the Queen over with gifts. She seems hesitant and unwilling for a while, but eventually accepts his affection.

[Exit.]

OPHELIA.
What does this mean, my lord?

HAMLET.
Sure, this is sneaky behavior; it means trouble.

OPHELIA.
This performance probably reflects the main theme of the play.

Enter Prologue.

HAMLET.
We'll figure it out from this guy: the actors can't keep a secret; they'll spill everything.

OPHELIA.
Will they explain what this show was all about?

HAMLET.
Yes, or any indication that you’ll give him. Don’t be ashamed to show it; he won’t hesitate to explain what it means.

OPHELIA.
You're nothing, you're nothing: I’ll watch the play.

PROLOGUE.
   For us, and for our tragedy,
   Here humbly asking for your kindness,
   We ask for your patience in listening.

HAMLET.
Is this a preface, or the inscription on a ring?

OPHELIA.
It's brief, my lord.

HAMLET.
Like a woman's love.