Scene V

[Elsinore. A room in the Castle.]

Enter Horatio, Gertrude, and a Gentleman.

QUEEN:

I will not speak with her.

QUEEN:

I will not speak with her.

GENTLEMAN:

She is importunate, indeed distract. Her mood
will needs be pitied.

GENTLEMAN:

She is unfortunate, indeed deranged.
Her mood must be pitied.

QUEEN:

What would she have?

QUEEN:

What does she need?

GENTLEMAN:

She speaks much of her father; says she hears(5)
There's tricks i' the world, and hems, and beats her
heart;
Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,
That carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing,
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move(10)
The hearers to collection; they aim at it,
And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts;
Which, as her winks and nods and gestures yield them,
Indeed would make one think there might be thought,
Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.(15)

GENTLEMAN:

She speaks a lot about her father, she says she hears
There are tricks in the world, and coughs, and beats her chest,
Kicks enviously at nothing, says things in doubt
That only make half sense. her speech is nothing,
Yet the random use of it moves
The listeners to collect them, they aim at making sense of
It, and mix her words up fit to their own ideas,
Which, as her winks and nods and gestures as she
Speaks, would indeed make someone think there might
Be clear, though nothing for sure, yet very unhappily.

HORATIO:

'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may
strew
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
Let her come in.

HORATIO:

It would be good she were spoken with, because she
May scatter dangerous ideas in rude minds.
Let her come in.

[Exit Horatio.]

QUEEN:

To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,(20)
Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss.
So full of artless jealousy is guilt
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

QUEEN:

To my sick soul, such as sin's true nature is,
Each new thing seems to be the prelude to some great
harm. Guilt is so full of artless jealousy, that
It spills itself in fearing to be spilled.

[Enter Gentleman, with Ophelia distracted.]

OPHELIA:

Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark?

OPHELIA:

Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?

QUEEN:

How now, Ophelia?(25)

QUEEN:

How are you, Ophelia?

OPHELIA:

[Sings.]
How should I your true love know
From another one?
By his cockle hat and staff
And his sandal shoon.(30)

OPHELIA:

How should I know your true love
From another one?
By his whimsical bat and his staff
And his sandal shoes.

QUEEN:

Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?

QUEEN:

Alas, sweet lady, what does this song mean?

OPHELIA:

Say you? Nay, pray you, mark.

[Sings.]

He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone;
At his head a grass-green turf,(35)
At his heels a stone.
O, ho!

OPHELIA:

What did you say? No, I beg you, listen.

He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone,
At his head a grass green turf,
At his heels a stone.

QUEEN:

Nay, but Ophelia—

QUEEN:

No, but Ophelia

OPHELIA:

Pray you, mark.

[Sings.]

White his shroud as the mountain snow—(40)

OPHELIA:

I beg you, listen.

His shroud is as white as the mountain snow,

Enter King.

QUEEN:

Alas, look here, my lord!

QUEEN:

Alas, look here, my lord!

OPHELIA:

[Sings.]
Larded all with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did not go
With true-love showers.(45)

OPHELIA:

All covered with sweet flowers,
Which drowned in tears went to the grave
With showers of true love.

KING:

How do you, pretty lady?

KING:

How do you, pretty lady?

OPHELIA:

Well, God 'eild you! They say the owl was a baker's
daughter.
Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be.
God be at your table!(50)

OPHELIA:

Well, God protect you! They say the owl was a baker's
daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but don’t know
what we may be. God be at your table!

KING:

Conceit upon her father.

KING:

Thinking on her father.

OPHELIA:

Pray let's have no words of this; but when they ask,
you what it means, say you this:

[Sings.]

Tomorrow is Saint Valentine's day,
All in the morning betime,(55)
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose and donn'd his clo'es
And dupp'd the chamber door,
Let in the maid, that out a maid(60)
Never departed more.

OPHELIA:

I beg you, let's have no words about this, but when they
ask you what it means, you say this.

Tomorrow is Saint Valentine's day
All in the morning bedtime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose and put on his clothes,
And opened the chamber door,
Let in the maid that rejected a maid and
Never left again.

KING:

Pretty Ophelia!

KING:

Pretty Ophelia!

OPHELIA:

Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end on't!

[Sings.]

By Gis and by Saint Charity,
Alack, and fie for shame!(65)
Young men will do't if they come to't
By Cock, they are to blame.
Quoth she, 'Before you tumbled me,
You promis'd me to wed.'

(He answers:)

'So would I 'a' done, by yonder sun,(70)
An thou hadst not come to my bed.'

OPHELIA:

Indeed, la, without an oath, I’ll make an end on it.

By God and by Saint Charity,
Pity, and for shame, for shame!
Young men will do it if they come to it,
By God, they are to blame.
Said she, “before you slept with me,
You promised to marry me.

So I would have done, by yonder sun,
If you had not come to my bed.

KING:

How long hath she been thus?

KING:

How long has she been like this?

OPHELIA:

I hope all will be well. We must be patient. But I can-
not choose but weep, to think they would lay him i' the
cold ground. My brother shall know of it. And so I thank
you for your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night,(75)
ladies. Good night, sweet ladies. Good night, good night.

OPHELIA:

I hope all will be well. We must be patient. but I cannot
choose but weep, to think they would lay him in the cold
ground. My brother shall know of it. and so I thank you for
your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies,
good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.

[Exit]

KING:

Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you.
O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude,
When sorrows come, they come not single spies.(80)
But in battalions! First, her father slain;
Next, your son gone, and he most violent author
Of his own just remove; the people muddied,
Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers,
For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly,(85)
In hugger-mugger to inter him; poor Ophelia
Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts;
Last, and as much containing as all these,
Her brother is in secret come from France;(90)
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father's death,
Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign(95)
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering-piece, in many places
Gives me superfluous death.

KING:

Follow her closely, watch her well, I beg you.
O, this is the poison of deep grief, it all springs
From her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude,
When sorrows come, they don’t come as single spies,
But in battalions! First, her father slain.
Next, your son gone, and he is the most violent author
Of his own just leaving, the people confused,
Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers
For good Polonius' death, and we have done but little
In secrecy to bury him. Poor Ophelia,
Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
Without which, we are pictures or mere beasts.
Lastly, and just as important as all these,
Her brother has arrived in secrecy from France,
Becomes surprised, keeps himself alone,
And wants no gossip-mongers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father's death,
In which event, of very poor matter,
We ourselves will stab at nothing to condemn
To each and every ear. O my dear Gertrude, this worry,
Compared to a murdering piece, gives me more than
Enough death in many places.

A noise within.

QUEEN:

Alack, what noise is this?

QUEEN:

For pity’s sake, what’s this noise?

KING:

Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door.(100)

Enter another Gentleman.

What is the matter?

KING:

Where are my Swiss guards? Let them guard the door.

What is the matter?

GENTLEMAN:

Save yourself, my lord.
The ocean, overpeering of his list,
Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste
Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,(105)
O'erbears your offices. The rabble call him lord;
And, as the world were now but to begin,
Antiquity forgot, custom not known—
The ratifiers and props of every word—
They cry 'Choose we! Laertes shall be king!'(110)
Caps, hands and tongues applaud it to the clouds,
'Laertes shall be king! Laertes king!'

GENTLEMAN:

Save yourself, my lord.
The ocean, exceeding of his borders,
Doesn’t eat the flatlands with more impatient speed
Than young Laertes, heading a riot,
Takes over your offices. The crowd calls him lord,
And, as the world were just beginning now,
Old history forgotten, customs not known,
They certify and prop up every word,
They cry “We choose! Laertes shall be king!”
Caps, hands, and voices applaud it to the clouds,
”Laertes shall be king! Laertes king!”

A noise within.

QUEEN:

How cheerfully on the false trail they cry.
O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!

QUEEN:

How they cry cheerfully on the false trail!
O, this is rebellion, you false Danish dogs!

Enter Laertes with others.

KING:

The doors are broke.(115)

KING:

The doors are broken.

LAERTES:

Where is this King? Sirs, stand you all without.

LAERTES:

Where is this king? Sirs, you all wait outside.

ALL:

No, let's come in!

ALL:

No, let's come in.

LAERTES:

I pray you give me leave.

LAERTES:

I beg you, leave me alone.

ALL:

We will, we will!

ALL:

We will, we will.

LAERTES:

I thank you. Keep the door.(120)
O thou vile king,
Give me my father!

LAERTES:

I thank you. Guard the door.
O you vile king,
Give me my father!

QUEEN:

Calmly, good Laertes.

QUEEN:

Calmly, good Laertes.

LAERTES:

That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard;
Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot(125)
Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brows
Of my true mother.

LAERTES:

That drop of blood that's in control says I’m a bastard,
Cries my father’s wife was unfaithful, brands the harlot
Even here, between the chaste unmarked brows
Of my true mother.

KING:

What is the cause, Laertes,
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?
Let him go, Gertrude. Do not fear our person.(130)
There's such divinity doth hedge a king
That treason can but peep to what it would,
Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes,
Why thou art thus incensed. Let him go, Gertrude.
Speak, man.(135)

KING:

What is the cause, Laertes,
That your rebellion looks so huge?
Let him go, Gertrude, don’t fear for our safety.
There's such divinity that surrounds a king,
That treason can only peep to what it would do,
Acts little by his will. Tell me, Laertes,
Why are you so angry like this? Let him go, Gertrude.
Speak, man.

LAERTES:

Where is my father?

LAERTES:

Where is my father?

KING:

Dead.

KING:

Dead.

QUEEN:

But not by him!

QUEEN:

But he didn’t do it.

KING:

Let him demand his fill.

KING:

Let him make demands until he’s finished.

LAERTES:

How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with:(140)
To hell, allegiance! Vows, to the blackest devil!
Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!
I dare damnation. To this point I stand,
That both the worlds, I give to negligence,
Let come what comes; only I'll be revenged(145)
Most throughly for my father.

LAERTES:

Why is he dead? I’ll not be played with.
To hell, loyalty! Vows, to the blackest devil!
Conscience and grace, to the deepest pit!
I dare damnation. I stand to this point,
That’s in both the worlds, I give in to negligence.
Let come whatever comes, only I’ll be revenged
Most thoroughly for my father.