Scene II

[A room of state in the Castle.]

Flourish. Enter Claudius, King of Denmark, Gertrude the Queen, [Hamlet, Polonius, his son Laertes [his sister Ophelia], Voltimand, Cornelius, Lords Attendant.]

KING:

Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death
The memory be green, and that it us befitted
To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom
To be contracted in one brow of woe,
Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature(5)
That we with wisest sorrow think on him
Together with remembrance of ourselves.
Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
The imperial jointress to this warlike state,
Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,(10)
With an auspicious, and a dropping eye,
With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage,
In equal scale weighing delight and dole,
Taken to wife. Nor have we herein barr'd
Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone(15)
With this affair along. For all, our thanks.
Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras,
Holding a weak supposal of our worth,
Or thinking by our late dear brother's death
Our state to be disjoint and out of frame,(20)
Colleagued with this dream of his advantage,
He hath not fail'd to pester us with message,
Importing the surrender of those lands
Lost by his father, with all bonds of law,
To our most valiant brother. So much for him.(25)
Now for ourself, and for this time of meeting.
Thus much the business is: we have here writ
To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras—
Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears
Of this his nephew's purpose—to suppress(30)
His further gait herein, in that the levies,
The lists, and full proportions, are all made
Out of his subject; and we here dispatch
You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand,
For bearers of this greeting to old Norway,(35)
Giving to you no further personal power
To business with the King, more than the scope
Of these dilated articles allow.
Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty.

KING:

Though the memory of our dear brother, Hamlet’s death
Is still fresh, and that it was proper for us
To grieve for him in our hearts, and our whole kingdom
To be united in one sorrow,
Yet discretion has fought with nature so much
That we now think on him with more tempered sorrow,
Together with remembrance of ourselves,
Therefore, our former sister-in-law, now our queen,
The royal dowager of this warring country,
We have, as it were with an unhappy joy,
With a hopeful and crying eye,
With joy in mourning, and with lament in marriage,
In equal parts weighing delight and sorrow,
Married. We have not disregarded
Your good advice, which has freely gone
Along with this affair. To all, our thanks.
I will tell you now, as you know, young Fortinbras,
Not thinking very much of us,
Or thinking that our late dear brother's death
Made our country disorganized and no longer powerful,
Conspiring with this dream of his advantage,
Has not failed to pester us with messages,
Asking us to the surrender of those lands
Lost by his father, within all the rules of law,
To our most valiant brother. So much for him!
Now what we have done so far
Is this. we have here written
To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,
Who, impotent and bed-rid, knows nothing
Of his nephew's intentions, to stop
His further progress in this plan because the levies,
The lists, and full proportions are all made
Without his knowledge, and we are sending
You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand,
To take this greeting to old Norway,
Without giving you any further personal power
To do business with the king, more than the scope
Of these detailed items allow.
Farewell and hurry to do your duty.

CORNELIUS, VOLTIMAND:

In that and all things will we show(40)
our duty.

CORNELIUS, VOLTIMAND:

In that and all things, we will show our duty.

KING:

We doubt it nothing. Heartily farewell.

[Exit Voltimand and Cornelius.]

And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?
You told us of some suit. What is't, Laertes?
You cannot speak of reason to the Dane,(45)
And lose your voice. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes,
That shall not be my offer, not thy asking?
The head is not more native to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.(50)
What wouldst thou have, Laertes?

KING:

We do not doubt it. Heartily, farewell.

And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?
You told us you want something. What is it, Laertes?
You cannot start to ask the King of Denmark,
And then stop. What do you want, Laertes,
That I shall not my offer before you ask?
The head is not more native to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than is the throne of Denmark to your father.
What would you ask, Laertes?

LAERTES:

Dread my lord,
Your leave and favour to return to France;
From whence though willingly I came to Denmark,
To show my duty in your coronation,(55)
Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.

LAERTES:

My fearful lord,
Your permission and good wishes to return to France.
I came from there willingly to Denmark,
To show my duty at your coronation,
But now, I must confess, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France,
And I bow to your gracious permission and good wishes.

KING:

Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius?

KING:

Have you your father's permission? What says Polonius?

POLONIUS:

He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave(60)
By laboursome petition, and at last
Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent.
I do beseech you, give him leave to go.

POLONIUS:

My lord, he has wrung from me my reluctant permission
By asking me again and again, and I
Finally had to give in.
I do beg you, give him permission to go.

KING:

Take thy fair hour, Laertes. Time be thine,
And thy best graces spend it at thy will!(65)
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,—

KING:

Take your best chance, Laertes, time be yours,
And do whatever you want to do with it!
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son.

HAMLET:

A little more than kin, and less than kind!

HAMLET:

A little more than related and less than kind!

KING:

How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

KING:

How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

HAMLET:

Not so, my lord: I am too much i' the sun.

HAMLET:

That’s not so, my lord, I am too much in the sun.

QUEEN:

Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color off,(70)
And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Do not for ever with thy vailed lids
Seek for thy noble father in the dust.
Thou know'st 'tis common. All that lives must die,
Passing through nature to eternity.(75)

QUEEN:

Good Hamlet, take off your black looks,
And let your eye look on the King like a friend.
Don’t look for your noble father on the ground
Forever with sad eyes.
You know it’s the way it goes, that everyone must die,
Passing through this life to eternity.

HAMLET:

Ay, madam, it is common.

HAMLET:

Yes, madam, that’s the way it goes.

QUEEN:

If it be,
Why seems it so particular with thee?

QUEEN:

If that’s the way it goes,
Why does it seem unusual with you?

HAMLET:

Seems, madam? Nay, it is. I know not seems.
'tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,(80)
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected havior of the visage,
Together with all forms, modes, shapes of grief,(85)
That can denote me truly. These indeed seem,
For they are actions that a man might play;
But I have that within which passeth show,
These but the trappings and the suits of woe.

HAMLET:

”Seem?”, madam! No, it is. I don’t know “seem.”
It’s not just my black clothes, good mother,
Or the usual mourning suits of solemn black,
Or loud sighs of forced breath,
No, or the tears of grief in my eyes,
Or the dejected behavior that’s on my face,
Together with all forms, moods, shows of grief,
That truly say what I feel. These things, indeed, “seem”
Because these are actions that might be found in a play,
But within me, I have feelings that cannot be acted,
Those things are only the outside signs of grief.

KING:

'tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,(90)
To give these mourning duties to your father;
But you must know, your father lost a father;
That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound
In filial obligation for some term
To do obsequious sorrow. But to persever(95)
In obstinate condolement is a course
Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief;
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,
A heart unfortified, a mind impatient,
An understanding simple and unschool'd;(100)
For what we know must be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,(105)
To reason most absurd, whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first corse till he that died today,
This must be so. We pray you throw to earth
This unprevailing woe, and think of us(110)
As of a father; for let the world take note
You are the most immediate to our throne,
And with no less nobility of love
Than that which dearest father bears his son
Do I impart toward you. For your intent(115)
In going back to school in Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our desire;
And we beseech you, bend you to remain
Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.(120)

KING:

It is sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,
To give these mourning duties to your father,
But, you must know, That your father lost his father,
His father lost his father, and the sons were bound,
In the obligation of a good son, for some time after
To do some general rites and grieving, but to persist
In such a long grieving period is to be on a path
Of unholy stubbornness. It is unmanly grief.
It demonstrates a wrong observance of holy rites,
A weak heart, a restless mind,
A simple and uneducated understanding of death,
Because we know what must be, it’s as common
As anything to sense the most vulgar thing,
Why should we, in our spiteful opposition,
Take it to heart? For shame! It is a sin to heaven,
A sin against the dead, a sin to nature,
Most ridiculous to reason, whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still has cried,
From the first corpse to the man who died just today,
”This must be so.” We beg you, give up on
This unusual grief, and think of us
As of a father. Because, let the whole world know,
You are the next in line to our throne,
And, I give you my love, with no less nobility
Than the love which the dearest father
Bears his son. As for your intentions
To go back to school in Wittenberg,
Leaving here is not something that we want,
And we beg you to give into remaining
Here in the happiness and pleasure of our eyes,
Our most important courtier, cousin, and our son.

QUEEN:

Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet.
I pray thee, stay with us, go not to Wittenberg.

QUEEN:

Don’t let my prayers go unanswered, Hamlet.
I beg you to stay with us, don’t go to Wittenberg.

HAMLET:

I shall in all my best obey you, madam.

HAMLET:

I’ll do my best to obey you, madam.

KING:

Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply.
Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come.(125)
This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof,
No jocund health that Denmark drinks today
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell,
And the King's rouse the heaven shall bruit again,(130)
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.

KING:

Why, it is a loving and a fair reply.
Behave as we would in Denmark. Madam, come,
This gentle and unforced agreement of Hamlet’s
Makes my heart happy, so happy that,
For every happy toast that Denmark drinks today
The great cannon shall fire the toast to the sky,
And the king's loud noise shall echo the cannon,
Repeating that earthly thunder. Let’s go.