Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Уильям Шекспир

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СКАЧАТЬ I know not seems.

      'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,

      Nor the dejected haviour of the visage,

      No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,

      Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief,

      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;35

      These but the trappings36 and the suits of woe.

      King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,

      To give these mourning duties to your father:

      But, you must know, your father lost a father;

      That father lost, lost his;37 and the survivor bound,

      In filial obligation, for some term

      To do obsequious sorrow:38 But to perséver39

      In obstinate condolement,40 is a course

      Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief:

      It shows a will most incorrect to Heaven.41

      We pray you, throw to earth

      This unprevailing42 woe; and think of us

      As of a father: for let the world take note,

      You are the most immediate to our throne;

      Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.

      Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet:

      I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.

      Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam.

      King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply;

      Be as ourself in Denmark.—Madam, come;

      This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet

      Sits smiling to my heart:43 in grace whereof,44

      No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day,45

      But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell;

      Re-speaking earthly thunder.

      [Trumpet March repeated. Exeunt King and Queen, preceded by Polonius, Lords, Ladies, Laertes, and Attendants, R.H.]

      Ham. O, that this too, too solid flesh would melt,

      Thaw, and resolve itself46 into a dew!

      Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd

      His canon47 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!

      How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable

      Seem to me all the uses of this world!48

      Fye on't! O fye! 'tis an unweeded garden,

      That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature

      Possess it merely.49 That it should come to this!

      But two months dead!—nay, not so much, not two:

      So excellent a king; that was, to this,

      Hyperion to a satyr:50 so loving to my mother,

      That he might not beteem51 the winds of heaven

      Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!

      Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,

      As if increase of appetite had grown

      By what it fed on: And yet, within a month—

      Let me not think on't—Frailty, thy name is Woman!—

      A little month; or ere those shoes were old

      With which she follow'd my poor father's body,

      Like Niobe, all tears;—she married with my uncle,

      My father's brother; but no more like my father

      Than I to Hercules.

      It is not, nor it cannot come to, good:

      But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue!

      Enter Horatio, Bernardo, and Marcellus R.H.

      Hor. Hail to your lordship!

      Ham.

      I am glad to see you well:

      Horatio—or I do forget myself.

      Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.

      Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you:52

      And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?—

      Marcellus?

      [Crosses to C.]

      Mar. (R.) My good lord—

      Ham. (C.) I am very glad to see you; good even, sir.

      [To Bernardo, R.]

      But what, in faith,53 make you54 from Wittenberg?55

      Hor. (L.) A truant disposition, good my lord.

      Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so;

      Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,

      To make it truster of your own report

      Against yourself: I know you are no truant.

      But what is your affair in Elsinore?

      We'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.

      Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.

      Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student;

      I think it was to see my mother's wedding.

      Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.

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