The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (866 page)

I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was
never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the
play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas
caviare to the general: but it was--as I received
it, and others, whose judgments in such matters
cried in the top of mine--an excellent play, well
digested in the scenes, set down with as much
modesty as cunning. I remember, one said there
were no sallets in the lines to make the matter
savoury, nor no matter in the phrase that might
indict the author of affectation; but called it an
honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very
much more handsome than fine. One speech in it I
chiefly loved: 'twas Aeneas' tale to Dido; and
thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of
Priam's slaughter: if it live in your memory, begin
at this line: let me see, let me see--
'The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast,'--
it is not so:--it begins with Pyrrhus:--
'The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms,
Black as his purpose, did the night resemble
When he lay couched in the ominous horse,
Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd
With heraldry more dismal; head to foot
Now is he total gules; horridly trick'd
With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,
Baked and impasted with the parching streets,
That lend a tyrannous and damned light
To their lord's murder: roasted in wrath and fire,
And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore,
With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Old grandsire Priam seeks.'
So, proceed you.

LORD POLONIUS

I swear to God, my lord, you said that so well and with the proper accent and pauses.

'Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and
good discretion.

First Player

Soon, he finds him, after his fall to the Greeks. With his old sword he is unable to bear, young Pyrrhus drives at Priam. His rage leaves him unbalanced but the force of his blow knocks Priam to the ground. Just before taking the head of Priam, Pyrrhus hears the roar of flames in the city of Ilium. He stands frozen as if in a painting. Like the quiet before the storm, Pyrrhus took back up his sword and with newly found fury wielded a deathly blow on Priam.—Out, out Fortune, you whore. Gods of heaven, take away her power and break her wheel of fortune. Send her and it to the depths of hell.

'Anon he finds him
Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword,
Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
Repugnant to command: unequal match'd,
Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide;
But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,
Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash
Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear: for, lo! his sword,
Which was declining on the milky head
Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick:
So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood,
And like a neutral to his will and matter,
Did nothing.
But, as we often see, against some storm,
A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,
The bold winds speechless and the orb below
As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder
Doth rend the region, so, after Pyrrhus' pause,
Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work;
And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
On Mars's armour forged for proof eterne
With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
Now falls on Priam.
Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods,
In general synod 'take away her power;
Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,
As low as to the fiends!'

LORD POLONIUS

This is too long.

This is too long.

HAMLET

We’ll let the barber cut it, as well as your beard.—Please go on.—He only likes the crude scenes, or else he falls asleep.—Go to the part about Hecuba.

It shall to the barber's, with your beard. Prithee,
say on: he's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he
sleeps: say on: come to Hecuba.

First Player

But who had seen the quiet queen,--

'But who, O, who had seen the mobled queen--'

HAMLET

The “quiet queen?”

'The mobled queen?'

LORD POLONIUS

That sounds good! “Quiet queen!”

That's good; 'mobled queen' is good.

First Player

She runs barefoot throughout the city threatening to put out the flames with her tears, a cloth on her head which once bore a crown and a blanket around her where once she wore a robe. Someone seeing her like this would have cursed Fortune. Even the gods, themselves, would have pity on her if they had seen her watch Pyrrhus murder her husband, unless the gods have no care for humans.

'Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames
With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head
Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe,
About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins,
A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up;
Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd,
'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have
pronounced:
But if the gods themselves did see her then
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs,
The instant burst of clamour that she made,
Unless things mortal move them not at all,
Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,
And passion in the gods.'

LORD POLONIUS

Look, the actor has turned colors and has tears in his eyes. Please let him stop!

Look, whether he has not turned his colour and has
tears in's eyes. Pray you, no more.

HAMLET

Very well. I’ll have you tell me the rest, soon.—Polonius, will you see the players are taken care of? Do you understand? Be good to them, for it would be better to have a bad epitaph than have them angry with you.

'Tis well: I'll have thee speak out the rest soon.
Good my lord, will you see the players well
bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for
they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the
time: after your death you were better have a bad
epitaph than their ill report while you live.

LORD POLONIUS

My lord, I will treat them as they deserve.

My lord, I will use them according to their desert.

HAMLET

Oh no man, if every man were treated as he deserved, no one would escape punishment. Treat them as you would want to be treated with respect and honor. The less deserving, the more the generosity. Take them inside.

God's bodykins, man, much better: use every man
after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping?
Use them after your own honour and dignity: the less
they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty.
Take them in.

LORD POLONIUS

Come along, sirs.

Come, sirs.

HAMLET

Go with him, my friends. We’ll hear a play tomorrow.

Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play to-morrow.

Exit POLONIUS with all the Players but the First

Do you know the play, “The Murder of Gonzago?”

Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you play the
Murder of Gonzago?

First Player

Yes, my lord.

Ay, my lord.

HAMLET

We would like to hear it tomorrow night. Could you add a few lines for me?

We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need,
study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which
I would set down and insert in't, could you not?

First Player

Yes, my lord.

Ay, my lord.

HAMLET

Good.—Follow that man; and do not mock him.

Very well. Follow that lord; and look you mock him
not.

Exit First Player

My friends, I must leave now. I will see you tonight. Welcome to Elsinore.

My good friends, I'll leave you till night: you are
welcome to Elsinore.

ROSENCRANTZ

Okay, my lord.

Good my lord!

HAMLET

Good, go with God.

Ay, so, God be wi' ye;

Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN

Thank God, I am alone. What a mischievous man I am! Aren’t I terrible to make the actor feel something so powerful in his soul that it brought tears to his eyes and made his voice crack. And, for what? Nothing! For Hecuba? What’s Hecuba to him or vice-versa? What would he do if her were in my shoes? He would probably cry and make horrible speeches, drive the guilty crazy and appall the little ones. He would confuse the ignorant spectators and amaze them. But I am not so brave and so I say nothing against a king who stole his position and property. Am I a coward? Would someone call me a villain, hit me, pull off my beard and blow it back in my face, or tweak my nose? Would someone call me a liar and I not respond? I wouldn’t do anything because I’m afraid or else I would have already killed the king, that bloody villain! That remorseless, treacherous villain. I want vengeance! I am such an ass! I, the son of a dear murdered father, with all rights to seek revenge, stand around and do nothing! I need to get control! I have heard that some people are so driven by watching a play they confess their sins out loud. I know! I’ll have the players put on a play similar to the murder of my father and I will watch my uncle’s reaction. If he flinches or becomes pale I will know for sure what to do because all I have to go on are the words of a ghost. If the ghost is the devil who is trying to condemn my soul, I need to be careful before I act. The play will reveal the true conscience of the king.

Now I am alone.
O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
Is it not monstrous that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit
That from her working all his visage wann'd,
Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing!
For Hecuba!
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weep for her? What would he do,
Had he the motive and the cue for passion
That I have? He would drown the stage with tears
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech,
Make mad the guilty and appal the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed
The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I,
A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,
Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,
And can say nothing; no, not for a king,
Upon whose property and most dear life
A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat,
As deep as to the lungs? who does me this?
Ha!
'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be
But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall
To make oppression bitter, or ere this
I should have fatted all the region kites
With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain!
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
O, vengeance!
Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,
That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,
Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
And fall a-cursing, like a very drab,
A scullion!
Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! I have heard
That guilty creatures sitting at a play
Have by the very cunning of the scene
Been struck so to the soul that presently
They have proclaim'd their malefactions;
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players
Play something like the murder of my father
Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;
I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench,
I know my course. The spirit that I have seen
May be the devil: and the devil hath power
To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps
Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
As he is very potent with such spirits,
Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds
More relative than this: the play 's the thing
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.