Complete Plays, The Read online

  Antony

  Where is he?

  Lucilius

  Safe, Antony; Brutus is safe enough:

  I dare assure thee that no enemy

  Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus:

  The gods defend him from so great a shame!

  When you do find him, or alive or dead,

  He will be found like Brutus, like himself.

  Antony

  This is not Brutus, friend; but, I assure you,

  A prize no less in worth: keep this man safe;

  Give him all kindness: I had rather have

  Such men my friends than enemies. Go on,

  And see whether Brutus be alive or dead;

  And bring us word unto Octavius’ tent

  How every thing is chanced.

  Exeunt

  SCENE V. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD.

  Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius

  Brutus

  Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.

  Clitus

  Statilius show’d the torch-light, but, my lord,

  He came not back: he is or ta’en or slain.

  Brutus

  Sit thee down, Clitus: slaying is the word;

  It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.

  Whispers

  Clitus

  What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world.

  Brutus

  Peace then! no words.

  Clitus

  I’ll rather kill myself.

  Brutus

  Hark thee, Dardanius.

  Whispers

  Dardanius

  Shall I do such a deed?

  Clitus

  O Dardanius!

  Dardanius

  O Clitus!

  Clitus

  What ill request did Brutus make to thee?

  Dardanius

  To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates.

  Clitus

  Now is that noble vessel full of grief,

  That it runs over even at his eyes.

  Brutus

  Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word.

  Volumnius

  What says my lord?

  Brutus

  Why, this, Volumnius:

  The ghost of Caesar hath appear’d to me

  Two several times by night; at Sardis once,

  And, this last night, here in Philippi fields:

  I know my hour is come.

  Volumnius

  Not so, my lord.

  Brutus

  Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.

  Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes;

  Our enemies have beat us to the pit:

  Low alarums

  It is more worthy to leap in ourselves,

  Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius,

  Thou know’st that we two went to school together:

  Even for that our love of old, I prithee,

  Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.

  Volumnius

  That’s not an office for a friend, my lord.

  Alarum still

  Clitus

  Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here.

  Brutus

  Farewell to you; and you; and you, Volumnius.

  Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep;

  Farewell to thee too, Strato. Countrymen,

  My heart doth joy that yet in all my life

  I found no man but he was true to me.

  I shall have glory by this losing day

  More than Octavius and Mark Antony

  By this vile conquest shall attain unto.

  So fare you well at once; for Brutus’ tongue

  Hath almost ended his life’s history:

  Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest,

  That have but labour’d to attain this hour.

  Alarum. Cry within, ‘Fly, fly, fly!’

  Clitus

  Fly, my lord, fly.

  Brutus

  Hence! I will follow.

  Exeunt Clitus, Dardanius, and Volumnius

  I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord:

  Thou art a fellow of a good respect;

  Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it:

  Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face,

  While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?

  Strato

  Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord.

  Brutus

  Farewell, good Strato.

  Runs on his sword

  Caesar, now be still:

  I kill’d not thee with half so good a will.

  Dies

  Alarum. Retreat. Enter Octavius, Antony, Messala, Lucilius, and the army

  Octavius

  What man is that?

  Messala

  My master’s man. Strato, where is thy master?

  Strato

  Free from the bondage you are in, Messala:

  The conquerors can but make a fire of him;

  For Brutus only overcame himself,

  And no man else hath honour by his death.

  Lucilius

  So Brutus should be found. I thank thee, Brutus,

  That thou hast proved Lucilius’ saying true.

  Octavius

  All that served Brutus, I will entertain them.

  Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?

  Strato

  Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.

  Octavius

  Do so, good Messala.

  Messala

  How died my master, Strato?

  Strato

  I held the sword, and he did run on it.

  Messala

  Octavius, then take him to follow thee,

  That did the latest service to my master.

  Antony

  This was the noblest Roman of them all:

  All the conspirators save only he

  Did that they did in envy of great Caesar;

  He only, in a general honest thought

  And common good to all, made one of them.

  His life was gentle, and the elements

  So mix’d in him that Nature might stand up

  And say to all the world ‘This was a man!’

  Octavius

  According to his virtue let us use him,

  With all respect and rites of burial.

  Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie,

  Most like a soldier, order’d honourably.

  So call the field to rest; and let’s away,

  To part the glories of this happy day.

  Exeunt

  The Tragedy of

  Hamlet, Prince of Denmark

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY

  ACT I

  SCENE I. ELSINORE. A PLATFORM BEFORE THE CASTLE.

  SCENE II. A ROOM OF STATE IN THE CASTLE.

  SCENE III. A ROOM IN POLONIUS’ HOUSE.

  SCENE IV. THE PLATFORM.

  SCENE V. ANOTHER PART OF THE PLATFORM.

  ACT II

  SCENE I. A ROOM IN POLONIUS’ HOUSE.

  SCENE II. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

  ACT III

  SCENE I. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

  SCENE II. A HALL IN THE CASTLE.

  SCENE III. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

  SCENE IV. THE QUEEN’S CLOSET.

  ACT IV

  SCENE I. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

  SCENE II. ANOTHER ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

  SCENE III. ANOTHER ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

  SCENE IV. A PLAIN IN DENMARK.

  SCENE V. ELSINORE. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

  SCENE VI. ANOTHER ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

  SCENE VII. ANOTHER ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

  ACT V

  SCENE I. A CHURCHYARD.

  SCENE II. A HALL IN THE CASTLE.

  ACT I

  SCENE I. ANTECHAMBER IN LEONTES’ PALACE.

  Enter Camillo and Archidamus

  Archidamus

 
If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my services are now on foot, you shall see, as I have said, great difference betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia.

  Camillo

  I think, this coming summer, the King of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him.

  Archidamus

  Wherein our entertainment shall shame us we will be justified in our loves; for indeed —

  Camillo

  Beseech you,—

  Archidamus

  Verily, I speak it in the freedom of my knowledge: we cannot with such magnificence — in so rare — I know not what to say. We will give you sleepy drinks, that your senses, unintelligent of our insufficience, may, though they cannot praise us, as little accuse us.

  Camillo

  You pay a great deal too dear for what’s given freely.

  Archidamus

  Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me and as mine honesty puts it to utterance.

  Camillo

  Sicilia cannot show himself over-kind to Bohemia. They were trained together in their childhoods; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection, which cannot choose but branch now. Since their more mature dignities and royal necessities made separation of their society, their encounters, though not personal, have been royally attorneyed with interchange of gifts, letters, loving embassies; that they have seemed to be together, though absent, shook hands, as over a vast, and embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed winds. The heavens continue their loves!

  Archidamus

  I think there is not in the world either malice or matter to alter it. You have an unspeakable comfort of your young prince Mamillius: it is a gentleman of the greatest promise that ever came into my note.

  Camillo

  I very well agree with you in the hopes of him: it is a gallant child; one that indeed physics the subject, makes old hearts fresh: they that went on crutches ere he was born desire yet their life to see him a man.

  Archidamus

  Would they else be content to die?

  Camillo

  Yes; if there were no other excuse why they should desire to live.

  Archidamus

  If the king had no son, they would desire to live on crutches till he had one.

  Exeunt

  SCENE II. A ROOM OF STATE IN THE SAME.

  Enter Leontes, Hermione, Mamillius, Polixenes, Camillo, and Attendants

  Polixenes

  Nine changes of the watery star hath been

  The shepherd’s note since we have left our throne

  Without a burthen: time as long again

  Would be find up, my brother, with our thanks;

  And yet we should, for perpetuity,

  Go hence in debt: and therefore, like a cipher,

  Yet standing in rich place, I multiply

  With one ‘We thank you’ many thousands moe

  That go before it.

  Leontes

  Stay your thanks a while;

  And pay them when you part.

  Polixenes

  Sir, that’s to-morrow.

  I am question’d by my fears, of what may chance

  Or breed upon our absence; that may blow

  No sneaping winds at home, to make us say

  ‘This is put forth too truly:’ besides, I have stay’d

  To tire your royalty.

  Leontes

  We are tougher, brother,

  Than you can put us to’t.

  Polixenes

  No longer stay.

  Leontes

  One seven-night longer.

  Polixenes

  Very sooth, to-morrow.

  Leontes

  We’ll part the time between’s then; and in that

  I’ll no gainsaying.

  Polixenes

  Press me not, beseech you, so.

  There is no tongue that moves, none, none i’ the world,

  So soon as yours could win me: so it should now,

  Were there necessity in your request, although

  ’Twere needful I denied it. My affairs

  Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder

  Were in your love a whip to me; my stay

  To you a charge and trouble: to save both,

  Farewell, our brother.

  Leontes

  Tongue-tied, our queen? speak you.

  Hermione

  I had thought, sir, to have held my peace until

  You have drawn oaths from him not to stay. You, sir,

  Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sure

  All in Bohemia’s well; this satisfaction

  The by-gone day proclaim’d: say this to him,

  He’s beat from his best ward.

  Leontes

  Well said, Hermione.

  Hermione

  To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong:

  But let him say so then, and let him go;

  But let him swear so, and he shall not stay,

  We’ll thwack him hence with distaffs.

  Yet of your royal presence I’ll adventure

  The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia

  You take my lord, I’ll give him my commission

  To let him there a month behind the gest

  Prefix’d for’s parting: yet, good deed, Leontes,

  I love thee not a jar o’ the clock behind

  What lady-she her lord. You’ll stay?

  Polixenes

  No, madam.

  Hermione

  Nay, but you will?

  Polixenes

  I may not, verily.

  Hermione

  Verily!

  You put me off with limber vows; but I,

  Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with oaths,

  Should yet say ‘sir, no going.’ Verily,

  You shall not go: a lady’s ‘Verily’ ’s

  As potent as a lord’s. Will you go yet?

  Force me to keep you as a prisoner,

  Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees

  When you depart, and save your thanks. How say you?

  My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread ‘Verily,’

  One of them you shall be.

  Polixenes

  Your guest, then, madam:

  To be your prisoner should import offending;

  Which is for me less easy to commit

  Than you to punish.

  Hermione

  Not your gaoler, then,

  But your kind hostess. Come, I’ll question you

  Of my lord’s tricks and yours when you were boys:

  You were pretty lordings then?

  Polixenes

  We were, fair queen,

  Two lads that thought there was no more behind

  But such a day to-morrow as to-day,

  And to be boy eternal.

  Hermione

  Was not my lord

  The verier wag o’ the two?

  Polixenes

  We were as twinn’d lambs that did frisk i’ the sun,

  And bleat the one at the other: what we changed

  Was innocence for innocence; we knew not

  The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream’d

  That any did. Had we pursued that life,

  And our weak spirits ne’er been higher rear’d

  With stronger blood, we should have answer’d heaven

  Boldly ‘not guilty;’ the imposition clear’d

  Hereditary ours.

  Hermione

  By this we gather

  You have tripp’d since.

  Polixenes

  O my most sacred lady!

  Temptations have since then been born to’s; for

  In those unfledged days was my wife a girl;

  Your precious self had then not cross’d the eyes

  Of my young play-fellow.

  Hermione

  Grace to boot!

  Of this make no conclusion, lest you say

/>   Your queen and I are devils: yet go on;

  The offences we have made you do we’ll answer,

  If you first sinn’d with us and that with us

  You did continue fault and that you slipp’d not

  With any but with us.

  Leontes

  Is he won yet?

  Hermione

  He’ll stay my lord.

  Leontes

  At my request he would not.

  Hermione, my dearest, thou never spokest

  To better purpose.

  Hermione

  Never?

  Leontes

  Never, but once.

  Hermione

  What! have I twice said well? when was’t before?

  I prithee tell me; cram’s with praise, and make’s

  As fat as tame things: one good deed dying tongueless

  Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that.

  Our praises are our wages: you may ride’s

  With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere

  With spur we beat an acre. But to the goal:

  My last good deed was to entreat his stay:

  What was my first? it has an elder sister,

  Or I mistake you: O, would her name were Grace!

  But once before I spoke to the purpose: when?

  Nay, let me have’t; I long.

  Leontes

  Why, that was when

  Three crabbed months had sour’d themselves to death,

  Ere I could make thee open thy white hand

  And clap thyself my love: then didst thou utter

  ‘I am yours for ever.’

  Hermione

  ’Tis grace indeed.

  Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice:

  The one for ever earn’d a royal husband;

  The other for some while a friend.

  Leontes

  [Aside] Too hot, too hot!

  To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods.

  I have tremor cordis on me: my heart dances;

  But not for joy; not joy. This entertainment

  May a free face put on, derive a liberty

  From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom,

  And well become the agent; ’t may, I grant;

  But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers,

  As now they are, and making practised smiles,

  As in a looking-glass, and then to sigh, as ’twere

  The mort o’ the deer; O, that is entertainment

  My bosom likes not, nor my brows! Mamillius,

  Art thou my boy?

  Mamillius

  Ay, my good lord.

  Leontes

  I’ fecks!

  Why, that’s my bawcock. What, hast smutch’d thy nose?

  They say it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain,

  We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain:

  And yet the steer, the heifer and the calf

  Are all call’d neat.— Still virginalling