Hamlet, Act 5, Scene 2

So much for this, sir. Now let me see the other; You do remember all the circumstance?

That's enough about this, sir. Now let me tell you the rest. You remember all the details?

Remember it, my lord!

Remember it, my lord!

Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting That would not let me sleep. Methought I lay Worse than the mutinies in the bilboes. Rashly, And prais’d be rashness for it,—let us know, Our indiscretion sometime serves us well, When our deep plots do pall; and that should teach us There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.

Sir, there was a kind of struggle in my heart that would not let me sleep. It seemed to me I lay worse off than mutineers in shackles. On impulse — and let impulse be praised for it — let us admit that our recklessness sometimes serves us well when our carefully laid plans fail; and that should teach us that there is a divine power shaping our conclusions, however roughly we carve them out ourselves.

That is most certain.

That is absolutely certain.

Up from my cabin, My sea-gown scarf’d about me, in the dark Grop’d I to find out them; had my desire, Finger’d their packet, and in fine, withdrew To mine own room again, making so bold, My fears forgetting manners, to unseal Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio, Oh royal knavery! an exact command, Larded with many several sorts of reasons, Importing Denmark’s health, and England’s too, With ho! such bugs and goblins in my life, That on the supervise, no leisure bated, No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, My head should be struck off.

Up out of my cabin, my sailor's coat wrapped around me, I groped in the dark to find them; I got what I wanted, laid my hands on their packet, and finally withdrew to my own room again, making so bold — my fears making me forget good manners — as to open the seal of their important document. There I found, Horatio — oh, royal villainy! — a precise order, padded out with all sorts of separate reasons about the welfare of Denmark and of England too, and with, oh, such terrors and monsters said to lie in my being alive, that immediately on reading it, with no delay allowed, no, not even to wait for the axe to be sharpened, my head should be cut off.

Is’t possible?

Is that possible?

Here’s the commission, read it at more leisure. But wilt thou hear me how I did proceed?

Here is the document; read it when you have more time. But will you hear how I went on from there?

I beseech you.

Please do tell me.

Being thus benetted round with villanies,— Or I could make a prologue to my brains, They had begun the play,—I sat me down, Devis’d a new commission, wrote it fair: I once did hold it, as our statists do, A baseness to write fair, and labour’d much How to forget that learning; but, sir, now It did me yeoman’s service. Wilt thou know The effect of what I wrote?

Being caught in a net of villainies like that — before I could even compose an opening speech for my brain, it had begun the play — I sat down, drew up a new commission, and wrote it out in a fine hand. I once thought, as our statesmen do, that writing a clear hand was beneath me, and I worked hard at forgetting the skill; but, sir, now it did me solid service. Do you want to know what I wrote?

Ay, good my lord.

Yes, my good lord.

An earnest conjuration from the King, As England was his faithful tributary, As love between them like the palm might flourish, As peace should still her wheaten garland wear And stand a comma ’tween their amities, And many such-like ‘as’es of great charge, That on the view and know of these contents, Without debatement further, more or less, He should the bearers put to sudden death, Not shriving-time allow’d.

A solemn appeal from the King: since England was his loyal tribute-payer, since the love between them ought to flourish like the palm tree, since peace should always wear her crown of wheat and stand as a link between their friendships, and many more such weighty "since"s — that on reading and understanding these contents, without any further discussion at all, he should have the bearers put to death at once, with no time allowed for confession.

How was this seal’d?

How was this sealed?

Why, even in that was heaven ordinant. I had my father’s signet in my purse, Which was the model of that Danish seal: Folded the writ up in the form of the other, Subscrib’d it: gave’t th’impression; plac’d it safely, The changeling never known. Now, the next day Was our sea-fight, and what to this was sequent Thou know’st already.

Why, even in that heaven was directing things. I had my father's signet ring in my purse, which was the pattern the Danish state seal was made from. I folded the document up in the same shape as the other, signed it, stamped it, and put it back safely; the substitution was never discovered. Now, the next day came our sea-fight, and what followed after that you already know.

So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to’t.

So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to their deaths.

Why, man, they did make love to this employment. They are not near my conscience; their defeat Does by their own insinuation grow. ’Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes Between the pass and fell incensed points Of mighty opposites.

Why, man, they courted this job eagerly. They do not weigh on my conscience; their destruction comes from their own meddling. It is dangerous when a lesser creature gets between the thrust and the fiercely angry sword-points of powerful enemies.

Why, what a king is this!

Why, what a king this is!

Does it not, thinks’t thee, stand me now upon,— He that hath kill’d my king, and whor’d my mother, Popp’d in between th’election and my hopes, Thrown out his angle for my proper life, And with such cozenage—is’t not perfect conscience To quit him with this arm? And is’t not to be damn’d To let this canker of our nature come In further evil?

Don't you think it is now my duty — he who has killed my king and made a whore of my mother, slipped in between the election and my hopes, cast out his fishing line for my own life, and with such trickery — isn't it entirely right in conscience to pay him back with this arm? And isn't it damnable to let this ulcer on our human nature go on doing further evil?

It must be shortly known to him from England What is the issue of the business there.

He must soon hear from England what the outcome of the business there is.

It will be short. The interim is mine; And a man’s life’s no more than to say ‘One’. But I am very sorry, good Horatio, That to Laertes I forgot myself; For by the image of my cause I see The portraiture of his. I’ll court his favours. But sure the bravery of his grief did put me Into a tow’ring passion.

It will be soon. The time in between is mine; and a man's life takes no longer than saying "one." But I am very sorry, good Horatio, that I lost control of myself with Laertes; for in the picture of my own cause I see the likeness of his. I will seek his goodwill. But certainly the showiness of his grief drove me into a towering rage.

Peace, who comes here?

Quiet — who is coming here?

Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.

Your lordship is very welcome back to Denmark.

I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this waterfly?

I humbly thank you, sir. Do you know this water-fly?

No, my good lord.

No, my good lord.

Thy state is the more gracious; for ’tis a vice to know him. He hath much land, and fertile; let a beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the king’s mess; ’tis a chough; but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt.

You are the more fortunate for it, for knowing him is a vice. He has a great deal of land, and fertile land too. Let a beast be lord over beasts, and his feeding trough will stand at the king's own table. He's a chattering jackdaw, but, as I say, he owns a great stretch of dirt.

Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should impart a thing to you from his Majesty.

Sweet lord, if your lordship had the time, I have something to pass on to you from his Majesty.

I will receive it with all diligence of spirit. Put your bonnet to his right use; ’tis for the head.

I will take it in with all the attention of my mind. Put your hat to its proper use; it is meant for the head.

I thank your lordship, ’tis very hot.

I thank your lordship, but it is very hot.

No, believe me, ’tis very cold, the wind is northerly.

No, believe me, it is very cold; the wind is from the north.

It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.

It is fairly cold, my lord, indeed.

Methinks it is very sultry and hot for my complexion.

It seems to me it is very close and hot for my constitution.

Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,—as ’twere—I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his Majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head. Sir, this is the matter,—

Extremely so, my lord; it is very close — as it were — I can't say how. But, my lord, his Majesty told me to inform you that he has placed a large bet on you. Sir, this is the matter—

I beseech you, remember,—

Please, remember—

Nay, in good faith; for mine ease, in good faith. Sir, here is newly come to court Laertes; believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent differences, of very soft society and great showing. Indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card or calendar of gentry; for you shall find in him the continent of what part a gentleman would see.

No, truly; I am more comfortable like this, truly. Sir, Laertes has just arrived at court; believe me, a perfect gentleman, full of the most excellent distinctions, of very gentle manners and fine appearance. Indeed, to speak of him with real feeling, he is the chart or the calendar of gentlemanliness; for you will find in him everything a gentleman could wish to look for.

Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you, though I know, to divide him inventorially would dizzy th’arithmetic of memory, and yet but yaw neither, in respect of his quick sail. But, in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of great article and his infusion of such dearth and rareness as, to make true diction of him, his semblable is his mirror and who else would trace him his umbrage, nothing more.

Sir, his description loses nothing in your hands, though I know that to list his qualities item by item would exhaust the arithmetic of memory, and even then it would only fall short of the speed of his sailing. But, in all honesty of praise, I take him to be a spirit of great substance, and his nature of such richness and rarity that, to speak truly of him, his only likeness is his own reflection, and anyone else who tried to follow him would be no more than his shadow, nothing more.

Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him.

Your lordship speaks of him with perfect accuracy.

The concernancy, sir? Why do we wrap the gentleman in our more rawer breath?

What is the relevance, sir? Why do we wrap the gentleman up in our cruder breath?

Sir?

Sir?

Is’t not possible to understand in another tongue? You will do’t, sir, really.

Is it not possible to understand when someone else uses your language? You can manage it, sir, really.

What imports the nomination of this gentleman?

What is the point of naming this gentleman?

Of Laertes?

Of Laertes?

His purse is empty already, all’s golden words are spent.

His purse is empty already; all his golden words are spent.

Of him, sir.

Of him, sir.

I know you are not ignorant,—

I know you are not unaware—

I would you did, sir; yet in faith if you did, it would not much approve me. Well, sir?

I wish you did know, sir; though honestly, if you did, it would not say much for me. Well, sir?

You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is,—

You are not unaware of the excellence Laertes has—

I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him in excellence; but to know a man well were to know himself.

I dare not admit that, in case I should seem to be claiming equal excellence with him; but to know another man well would be to know oneself.

I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation laid on him, by them in his meed he’s unfellowed.

I mean, sir, with his weapon; but by the reputation given him by those who serve him, he has no equal.

What’s his weapon?

What is his weapon?

Rapier and dagger.

Rapier and dagger.

That’s two of his weapons. But well.

That is two of his weapons. But never mind.

The King, sir, hath wager’d with him six Barbary horses, against the which he has imponed, as I take it, six French rapiers and poniards, with their assigns, as girdle, hangers, and so. Three of the carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, very responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of very liberal conceit.

The King, sir, has bet six Barbary horses against him, and against those he has staked, as I understand it, six French rapiers and daggers, with their accessories, such as belt, straps, and so on. Three of the mountings, truly, are delightful to the eye, well matched to the hilts, most exquisite mountings, and of very generous design.

What call you the carriages?

What do you call the mountings?

I knew you must be edified by the margin ere you had done.

I knew you would have to be instructed by notes in the margin before you were done.

The carriages, sir, are the hangers.

The mountings, sir, are the straps that hold the sword.

The phrase would be more german to the matter if we could carry cannon by our sides. I would it might be hangers till then. But on. Six Barbary horses against six French swords, their assigns, and three liberal conceited carriages: that’s the French bet against the Danish. Why is this all imponed, as you call it?

The word would be more fitting to the subject if we could carry cannons at our sides. Until then, I would rather they were called straps. But go on. Six Barbary horses against six French swords, their accessories, and three generously designed mountings: that's the French stake against the Danish. Why is all this staked, as you call it?

The King, sir, hath laid that in a dozen passes between you and him, he shall not exceed you three hits. He hath laid on twelve for nine. And it would come to immediate trial if your lordship would vouchsafe the answer.

The King, sir, has bet that in a dozen bouts between you and him, he will not get more than three hits more than you. He has staked twelve against nine. And it would come to an immediate test if your lordship would be so good as to give an answer.

How if I answer no?

What if I answer no?

I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial.

I mean, my lord, your facing him in person in the contest.

Sir, I will walk here in the hall. If it please his Majesty, it is the breathing time of day with me. Let the foils be brought, the gentleman willing, and the King hold his purpose, I will win for him if I can; if not, I will gain nothing but my shame and the odd hits.

Sir, I will be walking here in the hall. If it pleases his Majesty, this is the time of day when I take my exercise. Let the practice swords be brought, and if the gentleman is willing and the King keeps to his intention, I will win for him if I can; if not, I will gain nothing but my shame and the extra hits against me.

Shall I re-deliver you e’en so?

Shall I report your answer in just those words?

To this effect, sir; after what flourish your nature will.

To that effect, sir; with whatever ornamental flourishes your nature likes to add.

I commend my duty to your lordship.

I offer my service to your lordship.

Yours, yours.

And mine to you, and mine.

He does well to commend it himself, there are no tongues else for’s turn.

He does well to recommend his own service; there are no other tongues that would do it for him.

This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head.

This lapwing runs off with the shell still on his head.

He did comply with his dug before he suck’d it. Thus has he,—and many more of the same bevy that I know the drossy age dotes on,— only got the tune of the time and outward habit of encounter; a kind of yeasty collection, which carries them through and through the most fanned and winnowed opinions; and do but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are out.

He was paying polite compliments to his nurse's breast before he sucked it. This is how he is — and so are many more of the same flock that I know this trashy age is infatuated with: they have picked up nothing but the fashionable manner of speech and the outward style of social greeting; a sort of frothy mixture that carries them safely through the most refined and carefully sifted company; but just blow on them to test them, and the bubbles burst.

My lord, his Majesty commended him to you by young Osric, who brings back to him that you attend him in the hall. He sends to know if your pleasure hold to play with Laertes or that you will take longer time.

My lord, his Majesty sent his greetings to you by young Osric, who brings back word that you are waiting for him in the hall. He sends to ask whether you still wish to fence with Laertes, or whether you would rather take more time.

I am constant to my purposes, they follow the King’s pleasure. If his fitness speaks, mine is ready. Now or whensoever, provided I be so able as now.

I stick to my intentions; they follow the King's wishes. If he is ready, I am ready. Now or at any other time, provided I am as fit as I am now.

The King and Queen and all are coming down.

The King and Queen and everyone are coming down.

In happy time.

At a good moment.

The Queen desires you to use some gentle entertainment to Laertes before you fall to play.

The Queen asks you to greet Laertes courteously before you begin to fence.

She well instructs me.

Her advice is good.

You will lose this wager, my lord.

You will lose this bet, my lord.

I do not think so. Since he went into France, I have been in continual practice. I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all’s here about my heart: but it is no matter.

I don't think so. Since he went to France, I have been practising constantly. I shall win with the handicap I'm given. But you wouldn't believe how uneasy everything is here around my heart — but it doesn't matter.

Nay, good my lord.

No, my good lord.

It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of gain-giving as would perhaps trouble a woman.

It's only foolishness; but it is the kind of misgiving that might upset a woman.

If your mind dislike anything, obey it. I will forestall their repair hither, and say you are not fit.

If your mind objects to anything, do what it tells you. I'll head them off before they come here, and say you are not well enough.

Not a whit, we defy augury. There’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come. The readiness is all. Since no man has aught of what he leaves, what is’t to leave betimes?

Not at all; we reject omens. There is a special providence at work even in the fall of a sparrow. If it is to be now, it isn't still to come; if it isn't to come, it will be now; if it isn't now, it will still come. Being ready is everything. Since no man keeps any part of what he leaves behind, what does it matter to leave early?

Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me.

Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me.

Give me your pardon, sir. I have done you wrong; But pardon’t as you are a gentleman. This presence knows, and you must needs have heard, How I am punish’d with sore distraction. What I have done That might your nature, honour, and exception Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness. Was’t Hamlet wrong’d Laertes? Never Hamlet. If Hamlet from himself be ta’en away, And when he’s not himself does wrong Laertes, Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it. Who does it, then? His madness. If’t be so, Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong’d; His madness is poor Hamlet’s enemy. Sir, in this audience, Let my disclaiming from a purpos’d evil Free me so far in your most generous thoughts That I have shot my arrow o’er the house And hurt my brother.

Forgive me, sir. I have wronged you; but pardon it, as you are a gentleman. Everyone here knows, and you must certainly have heard, how I am afflicted with a painful derangement of mind. Whatever I have done that might have roughly stirred up your feelings, your honour, and your resentment, I declare here was madness. Was it Hamlet who wronged Laertes? Never Hamlet. If Hamlet is taken away from himself, and while he is not himself he wrongs Laertes, then Hamlet does not do it — Hamlet denies it. Who does it, then? His madness. If that is so, Hamlet is on the side of the injured party; his madness is poor Hamlet's enemy. Sir, before this company, let my denial of any intended harm clear me so far in your most generous judgement that you see me as a man who shot an arrow over a house and hit his own brother.

I am satisfied in nature, Whose motive in this case should stir me most To my revenge. But in my terms of honour I stand aloof, and will no reconcilement Till by some elder masters of known honour I have a voice and precedent of peace To keep my name ungor’d. But till that time I do receive your offer’d love like love, And will not wrong it.

My natural feelings are satisfied, though in a case like this they should be what drives me hardest to revenge. But where my honour is concerned I hold back, and will accept no reconciliation until some older authorities of recognised honour give me a judgement and a precedent for peace that will keep my name unwounded. But until then I accept your offered friendship as friendship, and will not do it any wrong.

I embrace it freely, And will this brother’s wager frankly play.— Give us the foils; come on.

I accept that gladly, and will play this brotherly match openly and honestly. Give us the swords; come on.

Come, one for me.

Come, one for me.

I’ll be your foil, Laertes; in mine ignorance Your skill shall like a star i’ th’ darkest night, Stick fiery off indeed.

I'll be the dark setting that shows you off, Laertes; against my clumsiness your skill will stand out blazing like a star on the darkest night.

You mock me, sir.

You are making fun of me, sir.

No, by this hand.

No, I swear by this hand.

Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet, You know the wager?

Give them the swords, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet, you know the terms of the bet?

Very well, my lord. Your Grace has laid the odds o’ the weaker side.

Very well, my lord. Your Grace has backed the weaker side with a handicap.

I do not fear it. I have seen you both; But since he is better’d, we have therefore odds.

I'm not worried about it. I have seen you both fence; but since he has improved, we get odds in return.

This is too heavy. Let me see another.

This one is too heavy. Let me see another.

This likes me well. These foils have all a length?

This one suits me. Are these swords all the same length?

Ay, my good lord.

Yes, my good lord.

Set me the stoups of wine upon that table. If Hamlet give the first or second hit, Or quit in answer of the third exchange, Let all the battlements their ordnance fire; The King shall drink to Hamlet’s better breath, And in the cup an union shall he throw Richer than that which four successive kings In Denmark’s crown have worn. Give me the cups; And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, The trumpet to the cannoneer without, The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth, ‘Now the King drinks to Hamlet.’ Come, begin. And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.

Set the jugs of wine for me on that table. If Hamlet scores the first or the second hit, or pays Laertes back in the third exchange, let all the battlements fire their guns; the King will drink a toast to Hamlet's better wind, and into the cup he will drop a pearl richer than the one worn in the Danish crown by four kings in succession. Give me the cups; and let the drum speak to the trumpet, the trumpet to the gunner outside, the cannons to the heavens, and the heavens to the earth: 'Now the King drinks to Hamlet.' Come, begin. And you, the judges, keep a careful watch.

Come on, sir.

Come on, sir.

Come, my lord.

Come, my lord.

One.

One.

No.

No.

Judgement.

Let the judges decide.

A hit, a very palpable hit.

A hit, a very obvious hit.

Well; again.

All right; again.

Stay, give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine; Here’s to thy health.

Wait, give me a drink. Hamlet, this pearl is yours; here's to your health.

Give him the cup.

Give him the cup.

I’ll play this bout first; set it by awhile.

I'll fence this round first; set it aside for a while.

Come. Another hit; what say you?

Come on. Another hit; what do you say?

A touch, a touch, I do confess.

A touch, a touch, I admit it.

Our son shall win.

Our son will win.

He’s fat, and scant of breath. Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows. The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.

He's sweaty and short of breath. Here, Hamlet, take my handkerchief and wipe your forehead. The Queen drinks a toast to your success, Hamlet.

Good madam.

Thank you, madam.

Gertrude, do not drink.

Gertrude, do not drink.

I will, my lord; I pray you pardon me.

I will, my lord; please excuse me.

[Aside.] It is the poison’d cup; it is too late.

[Aside.] It is the poisoned cup; it is too late.

I dare not drink yet, madam. By and by.

I dare not drink yet, madam. In a little while.

Come, let me wipe thy face.

Come, let me wipe your face.

My lord, I’ll hit him now.

My lord, I'll hit him this time.

I do not think’t.

I don't think you will.

[Aside.] And yet ’tis almost ’gainst my conscience.

[Aside.] And yet it is almost against my conscience.

Come for the third, Laertes. You do but dally. I pray you pass with your best violence. I am afeard you make a wanton of me.

Come for the third round, Laertes. You're only playing with me. Please attack with your full force. I'm afraid you're treating me like a spoiled child.

Say you so? Come on.

Do you say so? Come on.

Nothing neither way.

Nothing scored on either side.

Have at you now.

Take that.

Part them; they are incens’d.

Separate them; they are furious.

Nay, come again!

No, come on again!

Look to the Queen there, ho!

See to the Queen there, hey!

They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord?

They are both bleeding. How are you, my lord?

How is’t, Laertes?

How are you, Laertes?

Why, as a woodcock to my own springe, Osric. I am justly kill’d with mine own treachery.

Why, like a woodcock caught in my own snare, Osric. I am killed, and justly, by my own treachery.

How does the Queen?

How is the Queen?

She swoons to see them bleed.

She has fainted at the sight of them bleeding.

No, no, the drink, the drink! O my dear Hamlet! The drink, the drink! I am poison’d.

No, no, the drink, the drink! Oh, my dear Hamlet! The drink, the drink! I have been poisoned.

O villany! Ho! Let the door be lock’d: Treachery! Seek it out.

Oh, villainy! Hey! Lock the door: treachery! Find it out.

It is here, Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slain. No medicine in the world can do thee good. In thee there is not half an hour of life; The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, Unbated and envenom’d. The foul practice Hath turn’d itself on me. Lo, here I lie, Never to rise again. Thy mother’s poison’d. I can no more. The King, the King’s to blame.

It is here, Hamlet. Hamlet, you have been killed. No medicine in the world can do you any good. You have not half an hour of life left in you. The treacherous weapon is in your hand, unblunted and poisoned. The vile plot has turned back on me. Look, here I lie, never to get up again. Your mother has been poisoned. I can say no more. The King, the King is to blame.

The point envenom’d too! Then, venom, to thy work.

The point poisoned as well! Then, poison, get to your work.

Treason! treason!

Treason! Treason!

O yet defend me, friends. I am but hurt.

Oh, still defend me, friends. I am only wounded.

Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane, Drink off this potion. Is thy union here? Follow my mother.

Here, you incestuous, murdering, damned Dane, drink this down. Is your pearl in here? Go after my mother.

He is justly serv’d. It is a poison temper’d by himself. Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet. Mine and my father’s death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me.

He gets what he deserves. It is a poison he mixed himself. Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet. Let my death and my father's not be charged against you, nor yours against me.

Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee. I am dead, Horatio. Wretched Queen, adieu. You that look pale and tremble at this chance, That are but mutes or audience to this act, Had I but time,—as this fell sergeant, death, Is strict in his arrest,—O, I could tell you,— But let it be. Horatio, I am dead, Thou liv’st; report me and my cause aright To the unsatisfied.

May Heaven clear you of it! I am coming after you. I am dead, Horatio. Unhappy Queen, goodbye. You who look pale and tremble at this event, who are only silent players or onlookers at this act, if I only had time — but death, this cruel officer of the law, allows no delay in his arrest — oh, I could tell you — but let it go. Horatio, I am dead, you are alive; report me and my cause correctly to those who are left in doubt.

Never believe it. I am more an antique Roman than a Dane. Here’s yet some liquor left.

Never think it. I am more an ancient Roman than a Dane. There is still some liquid left here.

As th’art a man, Give me the cup. Let go; by Heaven, I’ll have’t. O good Horatio, what a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me. If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.

As you are a man, give me the cup. Let go; by Heaven, I will have it. Oh, good Horatio, what a damaged reputation will live on after me, with things left unexplained like this. If you ever held me in your heart, keep away from happiness a little longer, and go on breathing painfully in this cruel world, to tell my story.

What warlike noise is this?

What is this warlike noise?

Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland, To the ambassadors of England gives This warlike volley.

Young Fortinbras, come back victorious from Poland, is firing this military salute for the ambassadors of England.

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 th’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.

Oh, I am dying, Horatio. The powerful poison completely overcrows my spirit: I cannot live to hear the news from England, but I do predict that the choice of king will fall on Fortinbras. He has my dying vote. Tell him so, along with everything that has happened, great and small, which brought it on. The rest is silence.

Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest. Why does the drum come hither?

Now a noble heart breaks. Good night, sweet prince, and may flights of angels sing you to your rest. Why is the drum coming here?

Where is this sight?

Where is this sight?

What is it you would see? If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.

What is it you want to see? If it is anything sorrowful or amazing, stop looking.

This quarry cries on havoc. O proud death, What feast is toward in thine eternal cell, That thou so many princes at a shot So bloodily hast struck?

This heap of dead bodies shouts of slaughter. Oh, proud death, what feast is being prepared in your everlasting cell, that you have struck down so many princes at one shot, so bloodily?

The sight is dismal; And our affairs from England come too late. The ears are senseless that should give us hearing, To tell him his commandment is fulfill’d, That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. Where should we have our thanks?

The sight is grim; and our business from England comes too late. The ears that should hear us are dead, so we cannot tell him his order has been carried out, that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. Who is to thank us now?

Not from his mouth, Had it th’ability of life to thank you. He never gave commandment for their death. But since, so jump upon this bloody question, You from the Polack wars, and you from England Are here arriv’d, give order that these bodies High on a stage be placed to the view, And let me speak to th’ yet unknowing world How these things came about. So shall you hear Of carnal, bloody and unnatural acts, Of accidental judgements, casual slaughters, Of deaths put on by cunning and forc’d cause, And, in this upshot, purposes mistook Fall’n on the inventors’ heads. All this can I Truly deliver.

Not his mouth, even if it had the power of life to thank you. He never gave any order for their death. But since you have arrived here at exactly this bloody moment, you from the Polish wars and you from England, give orders for these bodies to be laid out high on a platform for everyone to see, and let me tell the world, which still knows nothing, how all this came about. Then you will hear of acts of the flesh, of blood and against nature, of judgements that fell by chance, of killings done at random, of deaths brought on by cunning and by compulsion, and, in this outcome, of plans that went wrong falling back on the heads of those who devised them. All this I can truthfully deliver.

Let us haste to hear it, And call the noblest to the audience. For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune. I have some rights of memory in this kingdom, Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me.

Let us hurry to hear it, and summon the noblest to listen. As for me, I take up my fortune with sorrow. I have certain long-remembered claims in this kingdom, and my position now invites me to press them.

Of that I shall have also cause to speak, And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more. But let this same be presently perform’d, Even while men’s minds are wild, lest more mischance On plots and errors happen.

Of that I shall have reason to speak too, and to speak the words of one whose voice will bring more votes with it. But let this that I have said be carried out at once, while men's minds are still wild, in case more disaster comes of plots and mistakes.

Let four captains Bear Hamlet like a soldier to the stage, For he was likely, had he been put on, To have prov’d most royally; and for his passage, The soldiers’ music and the rites of war Speak loudly for him. Take up the bodies. Such a sight as this Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss. Go, bid the soldiers shoot.

Let four captains carry Hamlet to the platform like a soldier, for he would probably, had he been given the chance, have proved a most royal king; and for his funeral procession, let the soldiers' music and the rites of war speak loudly for him. Pick up the bodies. A sight like this belongs on a battlefield, but here it looks badly out of place. Go, order the soldiers to fire.