Sailors deliver Horatio a letter from Hamlet reporting that pirates attacked his ship and brought him back to Denmark. Hamlet asks Horatio to guide the sailors to the king and then come to him quickly for the full account.
SCENE VII. Another room in the Castle.
Enter King and Laertes.
KING
Now must your conscience my acquittanceA discharge from an obligation, debt, or accusation. seal,And you must put me in your heart for friend,Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear,That he which hath your noble father slainPursu’d my life.
LAERTES
It well appears. But tell meWhy you proceeded not against these feats,So crimeful and so capital in nature,As by your safety, wisdom, all things else,You mainly were stirr’d up.
KING
O, for two special reasons,Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew’d,But yet to me they are strong. The Queen his motherLives almost by his looks; and for myself,—My virtue or my plague, be it either which,—She’s so conjunctive to my life and soul,That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,I could not but by her. The other motive,Why to a public count I might not go,Is the great love the general gender bear him,Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,Would like the spring that turneth wood to stone,Convert his gyvesa fetter or shackle for the legs. to graces; so that my arrows,Too slightly timber’d for so loud a wind,Would have reverted to my bow again,And not where I had aim’d them.
LAERTES
And so have I a noble father lost,A sister driven into desperate terms,Whose worth, if praises may go back again,Stood challenger on mount of all the ageFor her perfections. But my revenge will come.
KING
Break not your sleeps for that. You must not thinkThat we are made of stuff so flat and dullThat we can let our beard be shook with danger,And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more.I lov’d your father, and we love ourself,And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine—
Enter a Messenger.
KING
How now? What news?
MESSENGER
Letters, my lord, from Hamlet.This to your Majesty; this to the Queen.
KING
From Hamlet! Who brought them?
MESSENGER
Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not.They were given me by Claudio. He receiv’d themOf him that brought them.
KING
Laertes, you shall hear them.Leave us.
Exit Messenger.
KING
‘High and mighty, you shall know I am set naked on your kingdom. Tomorrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes. When I shall, first asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasions of my sudden and more strange return.HAMLET.’
KING
What should this mean? Are all the rest come back?Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?
LAERTES
Know you the hand?
KING
’Tis Hamlet’s character. ‘Naked!’And in a postscript here he says ‘alone.’Can you advise me?
LAERTES
I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come,It warms the very sickness in my heartThat I shall live and tell him to his teeth,‘Thus diest thou.’
KING
If it be so, Laertes,—As how should it be so? How otherwise?—Will you be rul’d by me?
LAERTES
Ay, my lord;So you will not o’errule me to a peace.
KING
To thine own peace. If he be now return’d,As checkingIn falconry, to abandon the intended quarry and pursue some lesser prey that crosses the flight. at his voyage, and that he meansNo more to undertake it, I will work himTo an exploit, now ripe in my device,Under the which he shall not choose but fall;And for his death no wind shall breathe,But even his mother shall uncharge the practiceAnd call it accident.
LAERTES
My lord, I will be rul’d;The rather if you could devise it soThat I might be the organ.
KING
It falls right.You have been talk’d of since your travel much,And that in Hamlet’s hearing, for a qualityWherein they say you shine. Your sum of partsDid not together pluck such envy from himAs did that one, and that, in my regard,Of the unworthiest siege.
LAERTES
What part is that, my lord?
KING
A very riband in the cap of youth,Yet needful too, for youth no less becomesThe light and careless livery that it wearsThan settled age his sables and his weeds,Importing health and graveness. Two months sinceHere was a gentleman of Normandy,—I’ve seen myself, and serv’d against, the French,And they can well on horseback, but this gallantHad witchcraft in’t. He grew unto his seat,And to such wondrous doing brought his horse,As had he been incorps’dto unite into one body or substance. and demi-natur’dA nature or disposition that is only partial or imperfect.With the brave beast. So far he topp’d my thoughtThat I in forgery of shapes and tricks,Come short of what he did.
LAERTES
A Norman was’t?
KING
A Norman.
LAERTES
Upon my life, Lamorda Norman horseman celebrated for his skill and prowess..
KING
The very same.
LAERTES
I know him well. He is the brooch indeedAnd gem of all the nation.
KING
He made confession of you,And gave you such a masterly reportFor art and exercise in your defence,And for your rapier most especially,That he cried out ’twould be a sight indeedIf one could match you. The scrimersa fencer, especially one skilled in swordsmanship. of their nationHe swore had neither motion, guard, nor eye,If you oppos’d them. Sir, this report of hisDid Hamlet so envenom with his envyThat he could nothing do but wish and begYour sudden coming o’er to play with him.Now, out of this,—
LAERTES
What out of this, my lord?
KING
Laertes, was your father dear to you?Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,A face without a heart?
LAERTES
Why ask you this?
KING
Not that I think you did not love your father,But that I know love is begun by time,And that I see, in passages of proofA feat or exploit demonstrating proven ability or courage.,Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.There lives within the very flame of loveA kind of wick or snuff that will abate it;And nothing is at a like goodness still,For goodness, growing to a pleurisy,Dies in his own too much. That we would do,We should do when we would; for this ‘would’ changes,And hath abatements and delays as manyAs there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;And then this ‘should’ is like a spendthrift sighThat hurts by easing. But to the quick o’ th’ulcer:Hamlet comes back: what would you undertakeTo show yourself your father’s son in deed,More than in words?
LAERTES
To cut his throat i’ th’ church.
KING
No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize;Revenge should have no bounds. But good Laertes,Will you do this, keep close within your chamber.Hamlet return’d shall know you are come home:We’ll put on those shall praise your excellence,And set a double varnish on the fameThe Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine togetherAnd wager on your heads. He, being remiss,Most generous, and free from all contriving,Will not peruse the foils; so that with ease,Or with a little shuffling, you may chooseA sword unbatedUnblunted and lacking the protective button fitted to a fencing weapon., and in a pass of practiceA treacherous or secretly contrived fencing thrust.,Requite him for your father.
LAERTES
I will do’t.And for that purpose I’ll anoint my sword.I bought an unction of a mountebankSo mortal that, but dip a knife in it,Where it draws blood no cataplasmA medicinal poultice applied to the body. so rare,Collected from all simples that have virtueUnder the moon, can save the thing from deathThis is but scratch’d withal. I’ll touch my pointWith this contagion, that if I gall him slightly,It may be death.
KING
Let’s further think of this,Weigh what convenience both of time and meansMay fit us to our shape. If this should fail,And that our drift look through our bad performance.’Twere better not assay’d. Therefore this projectShould have a back or second, that might holdIf this did blast in proof. Soft, let me see.We’ll make a solemn wager on your cunnings,—I ha’t! When in your motion you are hot and dry,As make your bouts more violent to that end,And that he calls for drink, I’ll have prepar’d himA chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping,If he by chance escape your venom’d stucka thrust in fencing.,Our purpose may hold there.
Enter Queen.
KING
How now, sweet Queen?
QUEEN
One woe doth tread upon another’s heel,So fast they follow. Your sister’s drown’d, Laertes.
LAERTES
Drown’d! O, where?
QUEEN
There is a willow grows aslant a brook,That shows his hoary leaves in the glassy stream.There with fantastic garlands did she makeOf crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purplesa wild orchid with elongated purple flowers.,That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,But our cold maids do dead men’s fingers call them.There on the pendant boughs her coronet weedsClamb’ring to hang, an envious sliver broke,When down her weedy trophies and herselfFell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide,And mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up,Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes,As one incapable of her own distress,Or like a creature native and induedto endow or furnish with a quality or power.Unto that element. But long it could not beTill that her garments, heavy with their drink,Pull’d the poor wretch from her melodious layTo muddy death.
LAERTES
Alas, then she is drown’d?
QUEEN
Drown’d, drown’d.
LAERTES
Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,And therefore I forbid my tears. But yetIt is our trick; nature her custom holds,Let shame say what it will. When these are gone,The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord,I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze,But that this folly doutsTo extinguish or put out. it.
Exit.
KING
Let’s follow, Gertrude;How much I had to do to calm his rage!Now fear I this will give it start again;Therefore let’s follow.