Hamlet. William Shakespeare
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Название: Hamlet
Автор: William Shakespeare
Издательство: Public Domain
Жанр: Зарубежная классика
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Of this his nephew's purpose, to suppress 230
His further gait herein, in that the levies,
The lists, and full proportions are all made
Out of his subject; and we here dispatch
You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltemand,
For bearers of this greeting to old Norway, 235
Giving to you no further personal power
To business with the King, more than the scope
Of these dilated articles allow. [Gives a paper.]
Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty.
Cornelius. [with Voltemand] In that, and all things, will we show our duty. 240
Claudius. We doubt it nothing. Heartily farewell.
[Exeunt Voltemand and Cornelius.]
And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?
You told us of some suit. What is't, Laertes?
You cannot speak of reason to the Dane 245
And lose your voice. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes,
That shall not be my offer, not thy asking?
The head is not more native to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. 250
What wouldst thou have, Laertes?
Laertes. My dread lord,
Your leave and favour to return to France;
From whence though willingly I came to Denmark
To show my duty in your coronation, 255
Yet now I must confess, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
Claudius. Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius?
Polonius. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave 260
By laboursome petition, and at last
Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent.
I do beseech you give him leave to go.
Claudius. Take thy fair hour, Laertes. Time be thine,
And thy best graces spend it at thy will! 265
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son-
Hamlet. [aside] A little more than kin, and less than kind!
Claudius. How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
Hamlet. Not so, my lord. I am too much i' th' sun.
Gertrude. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, 270
And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Do not for ever with thy vailed lids
Seek for thy noble father in the dust.
Thou know'st 'tis common. All that lives must die,
Passing through nature to eternity. 275
Hamlet. Ay, madam, it is common.
Gertrude. If it be,
Why seems it so particular with thee?
Hamlet. Seems, madam, Nay, it is. I know not 'seems.'
'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, 280
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected havior of the visage,
Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief, 285
'That can denote me truly. These indeed seem,
For they are actions that a man might play;
But I have that within which passeth show-
These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
Claudius. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, 290
To give these mourning duties to your father;
But you must know, your father lost a father;
That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound
In filial obligation for some term
To do obsequious sorrow. But to persever 295
In obstinate condolement is a course
Of impious stubbornness. 'Tis unmanly grief;
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,
A heart unfortified, a mind impatient,
An understanding simple and unschool'd; 300
For what we know must be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we in our peevish opposition
Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven,
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