SCENE I. A room in the castle. |
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/Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, |
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ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN/ |
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*KING CLAUDIUS* |
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And can you, by no drift of circumstance, |
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Get from him why he puts on this confusion, |
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Grating so harshly all his days of quiet |
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With turbulent and dangerous lunacy? |
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*ROSENCRANTZ* |
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He does confess he feels himself distracted; |
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But from what cause he will by no means speak. |
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*GUILDENSTERN* |
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Nor do we find him forward to be sounded, |
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But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof, |
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When we would bring him on to some confession |
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Of his true state. |
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*QUEEN GERTRUDE* |
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Did he receive you well? |
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*ROSENCRANTZ* |
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Most like a gentleman. |
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*GUILDENSTERN* |
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But with much forcing of his disposition. |
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*ROSENCRANTZ* |
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Niggard of question; but, of our demands, |
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Most free in his reply. |
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*QUEEN GERTRUDE* |
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Did you assay him? |
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To any pastime? |
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*ROSENCRANTZ* |
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Madam, it so fell out, that certain players |
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We o'er-raught on the way: of these we told him; |
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And there did seem in him a kind of joy |
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To hear of it: they are about the court, |
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And, as I think, they have already order |
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This night to play before him. |
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*LORD POLONIUS* |
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'Tis most true: |
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And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties |
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To hear and see the matter. |
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*KING CLAUDIUS* |
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With all my heart; and it doth much content me |
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To hear him so inclined. |
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Good gentlemen, give him a further edge, |
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And drive his purpose on to these delights. |
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*ROSENCRANTZ* |
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We shall, my lord. |
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/Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN/ |
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*KING CLAUDIUS* |
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Sweet Gertrude, leave us too; |
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For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither, |
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That he, as 'twere by accident, may here |
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Affront Ophelia: |
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Her father and myself, lawful espials, |
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Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing, unseen, |
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We may of their encounter frankly judge, |
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And gather by him, as he is behaved, |
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If 't be the affliction of his love or no |
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That thus he suffers for. |
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*QUEEN GERTRUDE* |
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I shall obey you. |
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And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish |
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That your good beauties be the happy cause |
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Of Hamlet's wildness: so shall I hope your virtues |
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Will bring him to his wonted way again, |
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To both your honours. |
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*OPHELIA* |
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Madam, I wish it may. |
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/Exit QUEEN GERTRUDE/ |
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*LORD POLONIUS* |
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Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious, so please you, |
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We will bestow ourselves. |
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/To OPHELIA/ |
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Read on this book; |
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That show of such an exercise may colour |
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Your loneliness. We are oft to blame in this,-- |
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'Tis too much proved--that with devotion's visage |
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And pious action we do sugar o'er |
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The devil himself. |
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*KING CLAUDIUS* |
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[Aside] O, 'tis too true! |
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How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience! |
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The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastering art, |
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Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it |
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Than is my deed to my most painted word: |
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O heavy burthen! |
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*LORD POLONIUS* |
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I hear him coming: let's withdraw, my lord. |
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/Exeunt KING CLAUDIUS and POLONIUS/ |
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/Enter HAMLET/ |
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*HAMLET* |
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To be, or not to be: that is the question: |
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Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer |
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The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, |
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Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, |
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And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; |
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No more; and by a sleep to say we end |
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The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks |
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That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation |
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Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; |
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To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; |
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For in that sleep of death what dreams may come |
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When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, |
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Must give us pause: there's the respect |
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That makes calamity of so long life; |
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For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, |
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The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, |
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The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, |
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The insolence of office and the spurns |
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That patient merit of the unworthy takes, |
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When he himself might his quietus make |
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With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, |
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To grunt and sweat under a weary life, |
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But that the dread of something after death, |
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The undiscover'd country from whose bourn |
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No traveller returns, puzzles the will |
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And makes us rather bear those ills we have |
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Than fly to others that we know not of? |
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Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; |
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And thus the native hue of resolution |
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Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, |
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And enterprises of great pith and moment |
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With this regard their currents turn awry, |
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And lose the name of action.--Soft you now! |
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The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons |
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Be all my sins remember'd. |
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*OPHELIA* |
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Good my lord, |
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How does your honour for this many a day? |
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*HAMLET* |
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I humbly thank you; well, well, well. |
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*OPHELIA* |
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My lord, I have remembrances of yours, |
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That I have longed long to re-deliver; |
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I pray you, now receive them. |
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*HAMLET* |
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No, not I; |
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I never gave you aught. |
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*OPHELIA* |
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My honour'd lord, you know right well you did; |
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And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed |
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As made the things more rich: their perfume lost, |
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Take these again; for to the noble mind |
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Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. |
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There, my lord. |
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*HAMLET* |
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Ha, ha! are you honest? |
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*OPHELIA* |
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My lord? |
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*HAMLET* |
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Are you fair? |
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*OPHELIA* |
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What means your lordship? |
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*HAMLET* |
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That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should |
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admit no discourse to your beauty. |
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*OPHELIA* |
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Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than |
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with honesty? |
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*HAMLET* |
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Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner |
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transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the |
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force of honesty can translate beauty into his |
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likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the |
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time gives it proof. I did love you once. |
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*OPHELIA* |
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Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so. |
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*HAMLET* |
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You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot |
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so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of |
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it: I loved you not. |
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*OPHELIA* |
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I was the more deceived. |
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*HAMLET* |
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Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a |
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breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest; |
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but yet I could accuse me of such things that it |
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were better my mother had not borne me: I am very |
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proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at |
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my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, |
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imagination to give them shape, or time to act them |
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in. What should such fellows as I do crawling |
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between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves, |
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all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. |
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Where's your father? |
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*OPHELIA* |
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At home, my lord. |
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*HAMLET* |
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Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the |
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fool no where but in's own house. Farewell. |
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*OPHELIA* |
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O, help him, you sweet heavens! |
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*HAMLET* |
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If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for |
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thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as |
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snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a |
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nunnery, go: farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs |
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marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough |
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what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go, |
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and quickly too. Farewell. |
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*OPHELIA* |
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O heavenly powers, restore him! |
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*HAMLET* |
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I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God |
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has given you one face, and you make yourselves |
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another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and |
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nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness |
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your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath |
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made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages: |
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those that are married already, all but one, shall |
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live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a |
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nunnery, go. |
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/Exit/ |
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*OPHELIA* |
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O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! |
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The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword; |
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The expectancy and rose of the fair state, |
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The glass of fashion and the mould of form, |
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The observed of all observers, quite, quite down! |
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And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, |
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That suck'd the honey of his music vows, |
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Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, |
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Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; |
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That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth |
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Blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me, |
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To have seen what I have seen, see what I see! |
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/Re-enter KING CLAUDIUS and POLONIUS/ |
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*KING CLAUDIUS* |
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Love! his affections do not that way tend; |
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Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little, |
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Was not like madness. There's something in his soul, |
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O'er which his melancholy sits on brood; |
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And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose |
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Will be some danger: which for to prevent, |
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I have in quick determination |
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Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England, |
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For the demand of our neglected tribute |
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Haply the seas and countries different |
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With variable objects shall expel |
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This something-settled matter in his heart, |
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Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus |
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From fashion of himself. What think you on't? |
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*LORD POLONIUS* |
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It shall do well: but yet do I believe |
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The origin and commencement of his grief |
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Sprung from neglected love. How now, Ophelia! |
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You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said; |
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We heard it all. My lord, do as you please; |
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But, if you hold it fit, after the play |
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Let his queen mother all alone entreat him |
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To show his grief: let her be round with him; |
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And I'll be placed, so please you, in the ear |
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Of all their conference. If she find him not, |
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To England send him, or confine him where |
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Your wisdom best shall think. |
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*KING CLAUDIUS* |
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It shall be so: |
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Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. |
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/Exeunt/ |
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