Hamlet
William Shakespeare


Act I, Scene 2
HAMLET
My father!--methinks I see my father.

HORATIO 
Where, my lord?

HAMLET 
In my mind's eye, Horatio.


Act I, Scene 3

LORD POLONIUS 
Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame!
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
And you are stay'd for. There; my blessing with thee!
And these few precepts in thy memory
See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportioned thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in,
Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice;
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man,
And they in France of the best rank and station
Are of a most select and generous chief in that.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all: to thine ownself be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell: my blessing season this in thee!


Act III, Scene 1

HAMLET 
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take 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 heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
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 calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.

Act III, Scene 2

HAMLET 
Why, let the stricken deer go weep,
The hart ungalled play;
For some must watch, while some must sleep:
So runs the world away.


Act IV, Scene 3

KING CLAUDIUS 
Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?

HAMLET 
At supper.

KING CLAUDIUS 
At supper! where?

HAMLET 
Not where he eats, but where he is eaten: a certain
convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your
worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all
creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for
maggots: your fat king and your lean beggar is but
variable service, two dishes, but to one table:
that's the end.

KING CLAUDIUS 
Alas, alas!

HAMLET 
A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a
king, and cat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.

KING CLAUDIUS 
What dost you mean by this?

HAMLET 
Nothing but to show you how a king may go a
progress through the guts of a beggar.

KING CLAUDIUS 
Where is Polonius?

HAMLET 
In heaven; send hither to see: if your messenger
find him not there, seek him i' the other place
yourself. But indeed, if you find him not within
this month, you shall nose him as you go up the
stairs into the lobby.

KING CLAUDIUS 
Go seek him there.

To some Attendants

HAMLET 
He will stay till ye come.

Act IV, Scene 5

OPHELIA 
[Sings]
     They bore him barefaced on the bier;
     Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny;
     And in his grave rain'd many a tear:--
Fare you well, my dove!

LAERTES 
Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move thus.

OPHELIA 
[Sings]
You must sing a-down a-down,
An you call him a-down-a.
O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false
steward, that stole his master's daughter.

LAERTES 
This nothing's more than matter.

OPHELIA 
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray,
love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts.

LAERTES 
A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.

OPHELIA 
There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue
for you; and here's some for me: we may call it
herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with
a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you
some violets, but they withered all when my father
died: they say he made a good end,--

Sings

     For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.

LAERTES 
Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
She turns to favour and to prettiness.

OPHELIA 
[Sings]

     And will he not come again?
     And will he not come again?
     No, no, he is dead:
     Go to thy death-bed:
     He never will come again.

     His beard was as white as snow,
     All flaxen was his poll:
     He is gone, he is gone,
     And we cast away moan:
     God ha' mercy on his soul!

And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye.

Exit


Act IV, Scene 7

KING CLAUDIUS
Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home:
We'll put on those shall praise your excellence
And set a double varnish on the fame
The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together
And wager on your heads: he, being remiss,
Most generous and free from all contriving,
Will not peruse the foils; so that, with ease,
Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
A sword unbated, and in a pass of practise
Requite him for your father.

LAERTES 
I will do't:
And, for that purpose, I'll anoint my sword.
I bought an unction of a mountebank,
So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare,
Collected from all simples that have virtue
Under the moon, can save the thing from death
That is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point
With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
It may be death.


Act 5, Scene 1

A churchyard.

Enter two Clowns, with spades,&c 

First Clown 
Is she to be buried in Christian burial that
wilfully seeks her own salvation?

Second Clown 
I tell thee she is: and therefore make her grave
straight: the crowner hath sat on her, and finds it
Christian burial.

First Clown 
How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her
own defence?

Second Clown 
Why, 'tis found so.

First Clown 
It must be 'se offendendo;' it cannot be else. For
here lies the point: if I drown myself wittingly,
it argues an act: and an act hath three branches: it
is, to act, to do, to perform: argal, she drowned
herself wittingly.

Second Clown 
Nay, but hear you, goodman delver,--

First Clown 
Give me leave. Here lies the water; good: here
stands the man; good; if the man go to this water,
and drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he
goes,--mark you that; but if the water come to him
and drown him, he drowns not himself: argal, he
that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life.

Second Clown 
But is this law?

First Clown 
Ay, marry, is't; crowner's quest law.

Second Clown 
Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been
a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o'
Christian burial.

First Clown 
Why, there thou say'st: and the more pity that
great folk should have countenance in this world to
drown or hang themselves, more than their even
Christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient
gentleman but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers:
they hold up Adam's profession.

Second Clown 
Was he a gentleman?

First Clown 
He was the first that ever bore arms.

Second Clown 
Why, he had none.

First Clown 
What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the
Scripture? The Scripture says 'Adam digged:'
could he dig without arms? I'll put another
question to thee: if thou answerest me not to the
purpose, confess thyself--

Second Clown 
Go to.

First Clown 
What is he that builds stronger than either the
mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?

Second Clown 
The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a
thousand tenants.

First Clown 
I like thy wit well, in good faith: the gallows
does well; but how does it well? it does well to
those that do in: now thou dost ill to say the
gallows is built stronger than the church: argal,
the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come.

Second Clown 
'Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or
a carpenter?'

First Clown 
Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.

Second Clown 
Marry, now I can tell.

First Clown 
To't.

Second Clown 
Mass, I cannot tell.

Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, at a distance

First Clown 
Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull
ass will not mend his pace with beating; and, when
you are asked this question next, say 'a
grave-maker: 'the houses that he makes last till
doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan: fetch me a
stoup of liquor.

Exit Second Clown

He digs and sings

     In youth, when I did love, did love,
     Methought it was very sweet,
     To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove,
     O, methought, there was nothing meet.

HAMLET 
Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he
sings at grave-making?

HORATIO 
Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.

HAMLET 
'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath
the daintier sense.

(...)

I will speak to this fellow. Whose
grave's this, sirrah?

First Clown 
Mine, sir.

Sings

     O, a pit of clay for to be made
     For such a guest is meet.

HAMLET 
I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.

First Clown 
You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not
yours: for my part, I do not lie in't, and yet it is mine.

HAMLET 
'Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine:
'tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest.

First Clown 
'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away gain, from me to
you.

HAMLET 
What man dost thou dig it for?

First Clown 
For no man, sir.

HAMLET 
What woman, then?

First Clown 
For none, neither.

HAMLET 
Who is to be buried in't?

First Clown 
One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.

HAMLET 
How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the
card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord,
Horatio, these three years I have taken a note of
it; the age is grown so picked that the toe of the
peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he
gaffs his kibe. How long hast thou been a
grave-maker?

First Clown 
Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that day
that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.

HAMLET 
How long is that since?

First Clown 
Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: it
was the very day that young Hamlet was born; he that
is mad, and sent into England.

HAMLET 
Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?

First Clown 
Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits
there; or, if he do not, it's no great matter there.

HAMLET 
Why?

First Clown 
'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men
are as mad as he.

HAMLET 
How came he mad?

First Clown 
Very strangely, they say.

HAMLET 
How strangely?

First Clown 
Faith, e'en with losing his wits.

HAMLET 
Upon what ground?

First Clown 
Why, here in Denmark: I have been sexton here, man
and boy, thirty years.

HAMLET 
How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot?

First Clown 
I' faith, if he be not rotten before he die--as we
have many pocky corses now-a-days, that will scarce
hold the laying in--he will last you some eight year
or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year.

HAMLET 
Why he more than another?

First Clown 
Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade, that
he will keep out water a great while; and your water
is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body.


Act V, Scene 2

HAMLET 
O, I die, Horatio;
The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit:
I cannot live to hear the news from England;
But I do prophesy the election lights
On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice;
So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less,
Which have solicited. The rest is silence.

Dies

HORATIO 
Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince:
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!