Scene III

[Elsinore.]

[Enter King, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern.]

KING:

I like him not, nor stands it safe with us
To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you.
I your commission will forthwith dispatch,
And he to England shall along with you.
The terms of our estate may not endure(5)
Hazard so near us as doth hourly grow
Out of his brows.

KING:

I don’t like him, and it doesn’t seem to be safe to us
To let his craziness run free. Therefore, get ready,
I will send your new orders with you,
And he’ll go to England with you.
The terms of our estate may not endure
With danger so near to us as his craziness seems
To get worse by the hour.

GUILDENSTERN:

We will ourselves provide.
Most holy and religious fear it is
To keep those many many bodies safe(10)
That live and feed upon your Majesty.

GUILDENSTERN:

We will get ourselves ready.
It’s a most holy and religious fear
To keep those many, many bodies safe
That depend upon your majesty.

ROSENCRANTZ:

The single and peculiar life is bound
With all the strength and armour of the mind
To keep itself from noyance; but much more
That spirit upon whose weal depends and rests
The lives of many. The cess of majesty(15)
Dies not alone, but like a gulf doth draw
What's near it with it. It is a massy wheel,
Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount,
To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
Are mortised and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,(20)
Each small annexment, petty consequence,
Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone
Did the King sigh, but with a general groan.

ROSENCRANTZ:

The single and peculiar life is bound,
With all the strength and amour of the mind,
To keep itself from madness, but much more so
For that spirit on whose government the lives of many
Depend and rest. The government of a King
Dies with him, but draws what's near it with it, like a gulf.
It is a massive wheel,
Set at the top of the highest mountain,
In which its huge spokes, ten thousand little things
Are firmly glued together, that, when the wheel falls,
Each small piece, insignificant event,
Adds to the noisy ruin of the country. The King never
Sighed by himself, but with the whole country’s groan.

KING:

Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage;
For we will fetters put upon this fear,(25)
Which now goes too free-footed.

KING:

Get started, I beg you, on this speedy voyage,
For we will control this fear,
Which now goes about too freely.

ROSENCRANTZ AND GUILDENSTERN:

We will haste us.

ROSENCRANTZ AND GUILDENSTERN:

We will go quickly.

Exeunt Gentlemen

Enter Polonius.

POLONIUS:

My lord, he's going to his mother's closet.
Behind the arras I'll convey myself,
To hear the process. I'll warrant she'll tax him home;(30)
And, as you said, and wisely was it said,
'tis meet that some more audience than a mother,
Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear
The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege.
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed(35)
And tell you what I know.

POLONIUS:

My lord, he's going to his mother's bedroom.
I’ll hide myself behind the curtain so
I can hear what happens, I’ll guarantee she'll set him
Straight. And, as you said, and wisely it was said,
It is proper that some beside his mother,
Since nature makes them subjective, should overhear
The speech objectively. Goodbye, my lord.
I’ll call on you before you go to bed,
And tell you what I know.

Exit [Polonius.]

KING:

Thanks, dear my lord.
O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
A brother's murder! Pray can I not,(40)
Though inclination be as sharp as will;
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,
And, like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand(45)
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
But to confront the visage of offence?
And what's in prayer but this twofold force,(50)
To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder?'
That cannot be; since I am still possess'd(55)
Of those effects for which I did the murder—
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
May one be pardon'd and retain the offence?
In the corrupted currents of this world
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,(60)
And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above:
There is no shuffling; there the action lies
In his true nature, and we ourselves compell'd,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,(65)
To give in evidence. What then? What rests?
Try what repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it when one cannot repent?
O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,(70)
Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay.
Bow, stubborn knees; and heart with strings of steel,
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
All may be well.(75)

KING:

Thanks, my dear lord.
O, my offense is rotten. It smells to heaven,
It has the oldest, basic curse on it,
A brother's murder! I can’t pray,
Though my desire to is as sharp as my will.
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,
And, like a man bound to double business,
I can’t decide where I should begin.
And both get neglected. What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with my brother's blood,
Isn’t there enough rain in the sweet heavens
To wash it as white as snow? What use is mercy
Except to confront the face of offense?
And what's in prayer except this double force,
To be prevented from falling down,
Or pardoned since we are down? Then I’ll look up,
My sin is committed. But, O, what form of prayer
Can help me? Forgive me of my foul murder!
That can’t be it, since I still have
All those things for which I did the murder,
My crown, my own ambition, and my queen.
May one be forgiven a sin and still hold on to its benefits?
In the corrupted currents of this world
Offense's golden hand may push past justice,
And its often seen that the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law, but it’s not that way in heaven.
There is no shifty action. There the action lies
In his true nature, and we ourselves are forced,
Even to the back and front of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then? What stops?
I’ll see what being sorry does. What can’t it do?
But what can it do when one cannot say, “sorry?”
O wretched state! O heart as black as death!
O dissolving soul, that, struggling to be free,
Is more a slave! Help, angels! Make an attempt.
Bow, stubborn knees, and, heart, with strings of steel,
Be soft as the muscles of the newborn baby!
All may be well.

[He kneels.]

Enter Hamlet.

HAMLET:

Now might I do it pat, now he is praying;
And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven,
And so am I revenged. That would be scann'd.
A villain kills my father; and for that,
I, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.(80)
O, this is hire and salary, not revenge!
He took my father grossly, full of bread,
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And how his audit stands, who knows save heaven?
But in our circumstance and course of thought,(85)
'tis heavy with him; and am I then revenged,
To take him in the purging of his soul,
When he is fit and seasoned for his passage?
No.
Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent.(90)
When he is drunk asleep; or in his rage;
Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed;
At game, a-swearing, or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in't
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,(95)
And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays.
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.

HAMLET:

Now might I do it just like that, now that he is praying,
And now I’ll do it, and so he goes to heaven,
And so am I revenged. I must think about that.
A villain kills my father, and for that,
I, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.
O, this is a contract and pay, not revenge.
He took my father grossly, full of food,
With all his sins on his soul, as full of bloom as May,
And how his report stands, who knows except heaven?
But, in our circumstances and thinking,
It is heavy situation with him. And am I, then, revenged,
To take him in the cleansing of his soul,
When he is fit and ready for his death?
No.
Up, sword, and know a more horrid intention.
When he is asleep drunk, or in his rage,
Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed,
At gaming, swearing, or committing some act
That has no element of salvation in it,
Then attack him, so that his heels may kick at heaven,
And that his soul may be as damned and black
As hell, where it goes to. My mother is waiting.
This relief only makes your sickly days longer.

Exit.

KING:

My words fly up, my thoughts remain below.
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.(100)

KING:

My words go up, my thoughts stay here below.
Words without thoughts never go to heaven.

Exit.