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The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark

Автор Уильям Шекспир

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Дата написания1970-01-01

Язык книгиen

Возрастное ограничение12+

Жанры

европейская старинная литература пьесы и драматургия зарубежная драматургия

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Страница 5 из 26

Scene IV. The platform.

[Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus.]

Ham.

The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.

Hor.

It is a nipping and an eager air.

Ham.

What hour now?

Hor.

I think it lacks of twelve.

Mar.

No, it is struck.

Hor.

Indeed? I heard it not: then draws near the season

Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.

[A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot off within.]

What does this mean, my lord?

Ham.

The King doth wake to-night and takes his rouse,

Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels;

And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,

The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out

The triumph of his pledge.

Hor.

Is it a custom?

Ham.

Ay, marry, is't;

But to my mind,--though I am native here,

And to the manner born,--it is a custom

More honour'd in the breach than the observance.

This heavy-headed revel east and west

Makes us traduc'd and tax'd of other nations:

They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase

Soil our addition; and, indeed, it takes

From our achievements, though perform'd at height,

The pith and marrow of our attribute.

So oft it chances in particular men

That, for some vicious mole of nature in them,

As in their birth,--wherein they are not guilty,

Since nature cannot choose his origin,--

By the o'ergrowth of some complexion,

Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason;

Or by some habit, that too much o'er-leavens

The form of plausive manners;--that these men,--

Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,

Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,--

Their virtues else,--be they as pure as grace,

As infinite as man may undergo,--

Shall in the general censure take corruption

From that particular fault: the dram of eale

Doth all the noble substance often doubt

To his own scandal.

Hor.

Look, my lord, it comes!

[Enter Ghost.]

Ham.

Angels and ministers of grace defend us!--

Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd,

Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,

Be thy intents wicked or charitable,

Thou com'st in such a questionable shape

That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet,

King, father, royal Dane; O, answer me!

Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell

Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,

Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre,

Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd,

Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws

To cast thee up again! What may this mean,

That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel,

Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,

Making night hideous, and we fools of nature

So horridly to shake our disposition

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?

Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?

[Ghost beckons Hamlet.]

Hor.

It beckons you to go away with it,

As if it some impartment did desire

To you alone.

Mar.

Look with what courteous action

It waves you to a more removed ground:

But do not go with it!

Hor.

No, by no means.

Ham.

It will not speak; then will I follow it.

Hor.

Do not, my lord.

Ham.

Why, what should be the fear?

I do not set my life at a pin's fee;

And for my soul, what can it do to that,

Being a thing immortal as itself?

It waves me forth again;--I'll follow it.

Hor.

What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord,

Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff

That beetles o'er his base into the sea,

And there assume some other horrible form

Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason,

And draw you into madness? think of it:

The very place puts toys of desperation,

Without more motive, into every brain

That looks so many fadoms to the sea

And hears it roar beneath.

Ham.

It waves me still.--

Go on; I'll follow thee.

Mar.

You shall not go, my lord.

Ham.

Hold off your hands.

Hor.

Be rul'd; you shall not go.

Ham.

My fate cries out,

And makes each petty artery in this body

As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.--

[Ghost beckons.]

Still am I call'd;--unhand me, gentlemen;--

[Breaking free from them.]

By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!--

I say, away!--Go on; I'll follow thee.

[Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet.]

Hor.

He waxes desperate with imagination.

Mar.

Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.

Hor.

Have after.--To what issue will this come?

Mar.

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

Hor.

Heaven will direct it.

Mar.

Nay, let's follow him.

[Exeunt.]

Scene V. A more remote part of the Castle.

[Enter Ghost and Hamlet.]

Ham.

Whither wilt thou lead me? speak! I'll go no further.

Ghost.

Mark me.

Ham.

I will.

Ghost.

My hour is almost come,

When I to sulph'uous and tormenting flames

Must render up myself.

Ham.

Alas, poor ghost!

Ghost.

Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing

To what I shall unfold.

Ham.

Speak; I am bound to hear.

Ghost.

So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.

Ham.

What?

Ghost.

I am thy father's spirit;

Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,

And for the day confin'd to wastein fires,

Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature

Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid

To tell the secrets of my prison-house,

I could a tale unfold whose lightest word

Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood;

Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres;

Thy knotted and combined locks to part,

And each particular hair to stand on end

Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:

But this eternal blazon must not be

To ears of flesh and blood.--List, list, O, list!--

If thou didst ever thy dear father love--

Ham.

O God!

Ghost.

Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

Ham.

Murder!

Ghost.

Murder most foul, as in the best it is;

But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.

Ham.

Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift

As meditation or the thoughts of love,

May sweep to my revenge.

Ghost.

I find thee apt;

And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed

That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,

Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear.

'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,

A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark

Is by a forged process of my death

Rankly abus'd; but know, thou noble youth,

The serpent that did sting thy father's life

Now wears his crown.

Ham.

O my prophetic soul!

Mine uncle!

Ghost.

Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,

With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,--

O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power

So to seduce!--won to his shameful lust

The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen:

O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!

From me, whose love was of that dignity

That it went hand in hand even with the vow

I made to her in marriage; and to decline

Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor

To those of mine!

But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,

Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven;

So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,

Will sate itself in a celestial bed

And prey on garbage.

But soft! methinks I scent the morning air;

Brief let me be.--Sleeping within my orchard,

My custom always of the afternoon,

Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,

With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,

And in the porches of my ears did pour

The leperous distilment; whose effect

Holds such an enmity with blood of man

That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through

The natural gates and alleys of the body;

And with a sudden vigour it doth posset

And curd, like eager droppings into milk,

The thin and wholesome blood; so did it mine;

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The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark

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Scene IV. The platform.

Scene V. A more remote part of the Castle.

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