莎翁巨著--哈姆雷特(七)

Enter Polonius, Voltemand, and Cornelius.

 

 

Welcome, my good friends.

Say, Voltemand, what from our brother Norway?

Volt. Most fair return of greetings and desires.

Upon our first, he sent out to suppress

His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd

To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack,

But better look'd into, he truly found

It was against your Highness; whereat griev'd,

That so his sickness, age, and impotence

Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests

On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys,

Receives rebuke from Norway, and, in fine,

Makes vow before his uncle never more

To give th' assay of arms against your Majesty.

Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,

Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee

And his commission to employ those soldiers,

So levied as before, against the Polack;

With an entreaty, herein further shown,

[Gives a paper.]

That it might please you to give quiet pass

Through your dominions for this enterprise,

On such regards of safety and allowance

As therein are set down.

King. It likes us well;

And at our more consider'd time we'll read,

Answer, and think upon this business.

Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour.

Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together.

Most welcome home! Exeunt Ambassadors.

Pol. This business is well ended.

My liege, and madam, to expostulate

What majesty should be, what duty is,

Why day is day, night is night, and time is time.

Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time.

Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,

And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,

I will be brief. Your noble son is mad.

Mad call I it; for, to define true madness,

What is't but to be nothing else but mad?

But let that go.

Queen. More matter, with less art.

Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all.

That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity;

And pity 'tis 'tis true. A foolish figure!

But farewell it, for I will use no art.

Mad let us grant him then. And now remains

That we find out the cause of this effect-

Or rather say, the cause of this defect,

For this effect defective comes by cause.

Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.

Perpend.

I have a daughter (have while she is mine),

Who in her duty and obedience, mark,

Hath given me this. Now gather, and surmise.

[Reads] the letter.

'To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified

Ophelia,'-

 

 

That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; 'beautified' is a vile

phrase.

But you shall hear. Thus:

[Reads.]

'In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.'

Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her?

Pol. Good madam, stay awhile. I will be faithful. [Reads.]

 

 

'Doubt thou the stars are fire;

Doubt that the sun doth move;

Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt I love.

'O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art to

reckon my groans; but that I love thee best, O most best, believe

it. Adieu.

'Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him,

HAMLET.'

 

 

This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me;

And more above, hath his solicitings,

As they fell out by time, by means, and place,

All given to mine ear.

King. But how hath she

Receiv'd his love?

Pol. What do you think of me?

King. As of a man faithful and honourable.

Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might you think,

When I had seen this hot love on the wing

(As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that,

Before my daughter told me), what might you,

Or my dear Majesty your queen here, think,

If I had play'd the desk or table book,

Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb,

Or look'd upon this love with idle sight?

What might you think? No, I went round to work

And my young mistress thus I did bespeak:

'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star.

This must not be.' And then I prescripts gave her,

That she should lock herself from his resort,

Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.

Which done, she took the fruits of my advice,

And he, repulsed, a short tale to make,

Fell into a sadness, then into a fast,

Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness,

Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension,

Into the madness wherein now he raves,

And all we mourn for.

King. Do you think 'tis this?

Queen. it may be, very like.

Pol. Hath there been such a time- I would fain know that-

That I have Positively said ''Tis so,'

When it prov'd otherwise.?

King. Not that I know.

Pol. [points to his head and shoulder] Take this from this, if this

be otherwise.

If circumstances lead me, I will find

Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed

Within the centre.

King. How may we try it further?

Pol. You know sometimes he walks four hours together

Here in the lobby.

Queen. So he does indeed.

Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him.

Be you and I behind an arras then.

Mark the encounter. If he love her not,

And he not from his reason fall'n thereon

Let me be no assistant for a state,

But keep a farm and carters.

King. We will try it.

 

 

Enter Hamlet, reading on a book.

 

 

Queen. But look where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.

Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away

I'll board him presently. O, give me leave.

Exeunt King and Queen, [with Attendants].

How does my good Lord Hamlet?

Ham. Well, God-a-mercy.

Pol. Do you know me, my lord?

Ham. Excellent well. You are a fishmonger.

Pol. Not I, my lord.

Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man.

Pol. Honest, my lord?

Ham. Ay, sir. To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man

pick'd out of ten thousand.

Pol. That's very true, my lord.

Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god

kissing carrion- Have you a daughter?

Pol. I have, my lord.

Ham. Let her not walk i' th' sun. Conception is a blessing, but not

as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to't.

Pol. [aside] How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter. Yet

he knew me not at first. He said I was a fishmonger. He is far

gone, far gone! And truly in my youth I suff'red much extremity

for love- very near this. I'll speak to him again.- What do you

read, my lord?

Ham. Words, words, words.

Pol. What is the matter, my lord?

Ham. Between who?

Pol. I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.

Ham. Slanders, sir; for the satirical rogue says here that old men

have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes

purging thick amber and plum-tree gum; and that they have a

plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams. All which,

sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it

not honesty to have it thus set down; for you yourself, sir,

should be old as I am if, like a crab, you could go backward.

Pol. [aside] Though this be madness, yet there is a method in't.-

Will You walk out of the air, my lord?

Ham. Into my grave?

Pol. Indeed, that is out o' th' air. [Aside] How pregnant sometimes

his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which

reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I

will leave him and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between

him and my daughter.- My honourable lord, I will most humbly take

my leave of you.

Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more

willingly part withal- except my life, except my life, except my

life,

 

 

Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

 

 

Pol. Fare you well, my lord.

Ham. These tedious old fools!

Pol. You go to seek the Lord Hamlet. There he is.

Ros. [to Polonius] God save you, sir!

Exit [Polonius].

Guil. My honour'd lord!

Ros. My most dear lord!

Ham. My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah,

Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both?

Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth.

Guil. Happy in that we are not over-happy.

On Fortune's cap we are not the very button.

Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe?

Ros. Neither, my lord.

Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her

favours?

Guil. Faith, her privates we.

Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? O! most true! she is a

strumpet. What news ?

Ros. None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest.

Ham. Then is doomsday near! But your news is not true. Let me

question more in particular. What have you, my good friends,

deserved at the hands of Fortune that she sends you to prison

hither?

Guil. Prison, my lord?

Ham. Denmark's a prison.

Ros. Then is the world one.

Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and

dungeons, Denmark being one o' th' worst.

Ros. We think not so, my lord.

Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good

or bad but thinking makes it so. To me it is a prison.

Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one. 'Tis too narrow for your

mind.

Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a

king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.

Guil. Which dreams indeed are ambition; for the very substance of

the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.

Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow.

Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that

it is but a shadow's shadow.

Ham. Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretch'd

heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we to th' court? for, by my

fay, I cannot reason.

Both. We'll wait upon you.

Ham. No such matter! I will not sort you with the rest of my

servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most

dreadfully attended. But in the beaten way of friendship, what

make you at Elsinore?

Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.

Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you;

and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny. Were

you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free

visitation? Come, deal justly with me. Come, come! Nay, speak.

Guil. What should we say, my lord?

Ham. Why, anything- but to th' purpose. You were sent for; and

there is a kind of confession in your looks, which your modesties

have not craft enough to colour. I know the good King and Queen

have sent for you.

Ros. To what end, my lord?

Ham. That you must teach me. But let me conjure you by the rights

of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the

obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a

better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with

me, whether you were sent for or no.

Ros. [aside to Guildenstern] What say you?

Ham. [aside] Nay then, I have an eye of you.- If you love me, hold

not off.

Guil. My lord, we were sent for.

Ham. I will tell you why. So shall my anticipation prevent your

discovery, and your secrecy to the King and Queen moult no

feather. I have of late- but wherefore I know not- lost all my

mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so

heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth,

seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the

air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical

roof fretted with golden fire- why, it appeareth no other thing

to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a

piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in

faculties! in form and moving how express and admirable! in

action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the

beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! And yet to me what

is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me- no, nor woman

neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.

Ros. My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.

Ham. Why did you laugh then, when I said 'Man delights not me'?

Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten

entertainment the players shall receive from you. We coted them

on the way, and hither are they coming to offer you service.

Ham. He that plays the king shall be welcome- his Majesty shall

have tribute of me; the adventurous knight shall use his foil and

target; the lover shall not sigh gratis; the humorous man shall

end his part in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose

lungs are tickle o' th' sere; and the lady shall say her mind

freely, or the blank verse shall halt fort. What players are

they?

Ros. Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the

tragedians of the city.

Ham. How chances it they travel? Their residence, both in

reputation and profit, was better both ways.

Ros. I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late

innovation.

Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the

city? Are they so follow'd?

Ros. No indeed are they not.

Ham. How comes it? Do they grow rusty?

Ros. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace; but there is,

sir, an eyrie of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top

of question and are most tyrannically clapp'd fort. These are now

the fashion, and so berattle the common stages (so they call

them) that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goosequills and

dare scarce come thither.

Ham. What, are they children? Who maintains 'em? How are they

escoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can

sing? Will they not say afterwards, if they should grow

themselves to common players (as it is most like, if their means

are no better), their writers do them wrong to make them exclaim

against their own succession.

Ros. Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and the nation

holds it no sin to tarre them to controversy. There was, for a

while, no money bid for argument unless the poet and the player

went to cuffs in the question.

Ham. Is't possible?

Guil. O, there has been much throwing about of brains.

Ham. Do the boys carry it away?

Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord- Hercules and his load too.

Ham. It is not very strange; for my uncle is King of Denmark, and

those that would make mows at him while my father lived give

twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred ducats apiece for his picture in

little. 'Sblood, there is something in this more than natural, if

philosophy could find it out.

Flourish for the Players.

 

 

Guil. There are the players.

Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, come! Th'

appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony. Let me comply

with you in this garb, lest my extent to the players (which I

tell you must show fairly outwards) should more appear like

entertainment than yours. You are welcome. But my uncle-father

and aunt-mother are deceiv'd.

Guil. In what, my dear lord?

Ham. I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly I

know a hawk from a handsaw.

 

 

Enter Polonius.

 

 

Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen!

Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern- and you too- at each ear a hearer!

That great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling

clouts.

Ros. Happily he's the second time come to them; for they say an old

man is twice a child.

Ham. I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players. Mark it.-

You say right, sir; a Monday morning; twas so indeed.

Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you.

Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you. When Roscius was an actor in

Rome-

Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord.

Ham. Buzz, buzz!

Pol. Upon my honour-

Ham. Then came each actor on his ass-

Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy,

history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral,

tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral; scene

individable, or poem unlimited. Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor

Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are

the only men.

Ham. O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou!

Pol. What treasure had he, my lord?

Ham. Why,

 

 

'One fair daughter, and no more,

The which he loved passing well.'

 

 

Pol. [aside] Still on my daughter.

Ham. Am I not i' th' right, old Jephthah?

Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I

love passing well.

Ham. Nay, that follows not.

Pol. What follows then, my lord?

Ham. Why,

 

 

'As by lot, God wot,'

 

 

and then, you know,

 

 

'It came to pass, as most like it was.'

 

 

The first row of the pious chanson will show you more; for look

where my abridgment comes.