Ros. Then is the world one. Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons; Denmark being one of the worst. Ros. We think not so, my lord. Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so; to me it is a prison. Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one; 'tis too narrow for your mind. Ham. O God! I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams. Guil. Which dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow. Ros. Truly; and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow. Ham. Then are our beggars, bodies; and our monarchs, and outstretched heroes, the beggars' shadows.' Shall we to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason. Ros. Guil. We'll wait upon you. Ham. No such matter; I will not sort you with the rest of my servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended.] But, in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore ? 3 Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion. Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you; and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear, a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, come; deal justly with me: come, come; nay, speak. Guil. What should we say, my lord? Ham. Any thing-but to the purpose. You were 1 "If ambition is such an unsubstantial thing, then are our beggars (who at least can dream of greatness) the only things of substance, and monarchs and heroes, though appearing to fill such mighty space with their ambition, but the shadows of the beggars' dreams." 2 By my faith. 3 What do you at Elsinore? and my daughter.-My honorable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.' Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal; except my life, except my life, except my life. Pol. Fare you well, my lord. Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN. Pol. You go to seek the lord Hamlet; there he is. Ros. God save you, sir! Guil. My honored lord! Ros. My most dear lord! [TO POLONIUS. Ham. My excellent good friends! Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! do ye both? [Exit POLONIUS. Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth. Guil. Happy, in that we are not overhappy; On fortune's cap we are not the very button. Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe? Ros. Neither, my lord. Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favors? Guil. 'Faith, her privates we. Ham. In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she is a strumpet. What news? Ros. None, my lord; but that the world is grown honest. Ham. Then is doomsday near. 2 But your news is not true. [Let me question more in particular. What have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune, that she sends you to prison hither? Guil. Prison, my lord! Ham. Denmark's a prison. 1 This speech is abridged thus in the quartos:- ? All within crotchets is wanting in the quarto copies. Ros. Then is the world one. Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons; Denmark being one of the worst. Ros. We think not so, my lord. Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so; to me it is a prison. Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one; 'tis too narrow for your mind. Ham. O God! I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams. Guil. Which dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow. Ros. Truly; and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow. Ham. Then are our beggars, bodies; and our monarchs, and outstretched heroes, the beggars' shadows.1 Shall we to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason. Ros. Guil. We'll wait upon you. Ham. No such matter; I will not sort you with the rest of my servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended.] But, in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore ? 3 Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion. Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you; and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear, a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, come; deal justly with me: come, come; nay, speak. Guil. What should we say, my lord? Ham. Any thing-but to the purpose. You were 1 "If ambition is such an unsubstantial thing, then are our beggars (who at least can dream of greatness) the only things of substance, and monarchs and heroes, though appearing to fill such mighty space with their ambition, but the shadows of the beggars' dreams." 2 By my faith. 3 What do you at Elsinore? VOL. VII. 38 sent for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks, which your modesties have not craft enough to color. I know the good king and queen have sent for you. Ros. To what end, my lord? But let me con Ham. That you must teach me. jure you by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our everpreserved love, and by what more dear a better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for, or no. Ros. What say you? [TO GUILDENSTERN. Ham. Nay, then I have an eye of you;1 [Aside;]—if you love me, hold not off. Guil. My lord, we were sent for. Ham. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king and queen moult no feather. I have of late (but wherefore, I know not) lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors. What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties in form, and moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me, no, nor woman neither; though, by your smiling, you seem to say so. Ros. My lord, there is no such stuff in my thoughts. Ham. Why did you laugh, then, when I said, Man delights not me? Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten entertainment the players shall receive 2 1 To have an eye of any one is to have an inkling of his purpose. The first quarto has:-" Nay, then I see how the wind sets." 2 See Twelfth Night, Act i. Sc. 5. On Mars's armor, forged for proof eterne, Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods, Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel, Pol. This is too long. Ham. It shall to the barber's, with your beard.'Pr'ythee, say on.-He's for a jig,' or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps.-Say on: come to Hecuba. 1 Play. But who, ah, woe! had seen the mobled queen Ham. The mobled queen? Pol. That's good; mobled queen is good. 1 Play. Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames 3 With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head, Where late the diadem stood; and, for a robe, A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up, 1 Giga, in Italian, was a fiddle, or crowd; gigaro, a fiddler, or minstrel. Hence a jig (first written gigge, though pronounced with a g soft, after the Italian) was a ballad, or ditty, sung to the fiddle. There are several of the old ballads and dialogues called jigs in the Harleian Collection. 2 The folio reads inobled, an evident error of the press, for mobled, which means muffled. 3 Bisson is blind. Bisson rheum, therefore, is blinding tears. 4 i. e. mild, tender-hearted.—TODD.-By a hardy poetical license, this expression means, "Would have filled with tears the burning eye of heaven." To have "made passion in the gods" would have been to move them to compassion. VOL. VII. 39 |