Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Уильям Шекспир

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СКАЧАТЬ And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch

       The virtue of his will; but you must fear,

       His greatness weigh’d, his will is not his own;

       For he himself is subject to his birth:

       He may not, as unvalu’d persons do,

       Carve for himself; for on his choice depends

       The sanctity and health of this whole state;

       And therefore must his choice be circumscrib’d

       Unto the voice and yielding of that body

       Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,

       It fits your wisdom so far to believe it

       As he in his particular act and place

       May give his saying deed; which is no further

       Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.

       Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain

       If with too credent ear you list his songs,

       Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open

       To his unmaster’d importunity.

       Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister;

       And keep you in the rear of your affection,

       Out of the shot and danger of desire.

       The chariest maid is prodigal enough

       If she unmask her beauty to the moon.

       Virtue itself scopes not calumnious strokes:

       The canker galls the infants of the spring

       Too oft before their buttons be disclos’d,

       And in the morn and liquid dew of youth

       Contagious blastments are most imminent.

       Be wary then, best safety lies in fear.

       Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

      OPHELIA.

       I shall th’effect of this good lesson keep

       As watchman to my heart. But good my brother,

       Do not as some ungracious pastors do,

       Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;

       Whilst like a puff’d and reckless libertine

       Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,

       And recks not his own rede.

      LAERTES.

       O, fear me not.

       I stay too long. But here my father comes.

      Enter Polonius.

      A double blessing is a double grace;

       Occasion smiles upon a second leave.

      POLONIUS.

       Yet here, Laertes? Aboard, aboard, for shame.

       The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,

       And you are stay’d for. There, my blessing with you.

      [Laying his hand on Laertes’s head.]

      And these few precepts in thy memory

       Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,

       Nor any unproportion’d thought his act.

       Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.

       Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,

       Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel;

       But do not dull thy palm with entertainment

       Of each new-hatch’d, unfledg’d comrade. Beware

       Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,

       Bear’t that th’opposed may beware of thee.

       Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:

       Take each man’s censure, but reserve thy judgment.

       Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,

       But not express’d in fancy; rich, not gaudy:

       For the apparel oft proclaims the man;

       And they in France of the best rank and station

       Are of a most select and generous chief in that.

       Neither a borrower nor a lender be:

       For loan oft loses both itself and friend;

       And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

       This above all: to thine own self be true;

       And it must follow, as the night the day,

       Thou canst not then be false to any man.

       Farewell: my blessing season this in thee.

      LAERTES.

       Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.

      POLONIUS.

       The time invites you; go, your servants tend.

      LAERTES.

       Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well

       What I have said to you.

      OPHELIA.

       ’Tis in my memory lock’d,

       And you yourself shall keep the key of it.

      LAERTES.

       Farewell.

      [Exit.]

      POLONIUS.

       What is’t, Ophelia, he hath said to you?

      OPHELIA.

       So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.

      POLONIUS.

       Marry, well bethought:

       ’Tis told me he hath very oft of late

       Given private time to you; and you yourself

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