Hamlet: Act 4, Scene 7
Another room in the castle.
Enter KING CLAUDIUS and LAERTES
Now must your conscience my acquaintance seal,
And you must put me in your heart for friend,
you have heard, and with a knowing ear,
That he which hath your noble father slain
Pursued my life.
It well appears: but tell me
Why you proceeded not against these feats,
So crimeful and so capital
As by your safety, wisdom, all things else,
You mainly were stirr'd up.
O, for two special reasons;
Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd,
But yet to me
they are strong. The queen his mother
Lives 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,
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
Convert his gyves to graces; so that my arrows,
Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind,
reverted to my bow again,
And not where I had aim'd them.
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 age
For her perfections: but my revenge will
Break not your sleeps for that: you must not think
That we are made of stuff so flat and dull
we can let our beard be shook with danger
And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more:
I loved your
father, and we love ourself;
And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine
Enter a Messenger
How now! what news?
Letters, my lord, from Hamlet:
This to your majesty; this to the queen.
From Hamlet! who brought them?
Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not:
They were given me by Claudio; he received them
him that brought them.
Laertes, you shall hear them. Leave us.
'High and mighty, You shall know I am set naked on
your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave
your kingly eyes: when I shall, first asking your
pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my sudden
more strange return. 'HAMLET.'
What should this mean? Are all the rest come back?
Or is it some abuse,
and no such thing?
Know you the hand?
'Tis Hamlets character. 'Naked!
And in a postscript here, he says 'alone.'
Can you advise me?
I'm lost in it, my lord. But let him come;
It warms the very sickness in my heart,
That I shall live
and tell him to his teeth,
'Thus didest thou.'
If it be so, Laertes
As how should it be so? how otherwise?
Will you be ruled by me?
Ay, my lord;
So you will not o'errule me to a peace.
To thine own peace. If he be now return'd,
As checking at his voyage, and that he means
more to undertake it, I will work him
To an exploit, now ripe in my device,
Under the which he shall not
choose but fall:
And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe,
But even his mother shall uncharge the
And call it accident.
My lord, I will be ruled;
The rather, if you could devise it so
That I might be the organ.
It falls right.
You have been talk'd of since your travel much,
And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a
Wherein, they say, you shine: your sum of parts
Did not together pluck such envy from him
that one, and that, in my regard,
Of the unworthiest siege.
What part is that, my lord?
A very riband in the cap of youth,
Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes
The light and careless
livery that it wears
Than settled age his sables and his weeds,
Importing health and graveness. Two
Here was a gentleman of Normandy:
I've seen myself, and served against, the French,
they can well on horseback: but this gallant
Had witchcraft in't; he grew unto his seat;
And to such wondrous
doing brought his horse,
As he had been incorpsed and demi-natured
With the brave beast: so far he
topp'd my thought,
That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks,
Come short of what he did.
A Norman was't?
Upon my life, Lamond.
The very same.
I know him well: he is the brooch indeed
And gem of all the nation.
He made confession of you,
And gave you such a masterly report
For art and exercise in your
And for your rapier most especially,
That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed,
If one could match
you: the scrimers of their nation,
He swore, had had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
If you opposed them.
Sir, this report of his
Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy
That he could nothing do but wish and beg
sudden coming o'er, to play with him.
Now, out of this,
What out of this, my lord?
Laertes, was your father dear to you?
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
A face without a
Why ask you this?
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 proof,
Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
There lives within the very flame of love
kind of wick or snuff that will abate it;
And nothing is at a like goodness still;
For goodness, growing to a
Dies in his own too much: that we would do
We should do when we would; for this 'would' changes
hath abatements and delays as many
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
And then this 'should' is
like a spendthrift sigh,
That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o' the ulcer:
Hamlet comes back: what would
To show yourself your father's son in deed
More than in words?
To cut his throat i' the church.
No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize;
Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes,
you do this, keep close within your chamber.
Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home:
on those shall praise your excellence
And set a double varnish on the fame
The Frenchman gave you,
bring you in fine together
And wager on your heads: he, being remiss,
Most generous and free from all
Will not peruse the foils; so that, with ease,
Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
unbated, and in a pass of practise
Requite him for your father.
I will do't:
And, for that purpose, I'll anoint my sword.
I bought an unction of a mountebank,
mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare,
Collected from all simples
that have virtue
Under the moon, can save the thing from death
That is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my
With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
It may be death.
Let's further think of this;
Weigh what convenience both of time and means
May fit us to our
shape: if this should fail,
And that our drift look through our bad performance,
'Twere better not assay'd: therefore
Should have a back or second, that might hold,
If this should blast in proof. Soft! let me see:
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 prepared him
A chalice for the nonce,
whereon but sipping,
If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,
Our purpose may hold there.
Enter QUEEN GERTRUDE
How now, sweet queen!
One woe doth tread upon another's heel,
So fast they follow; your sister's drown'd, Laertes.
Drown'd! O, where?
There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
with fantastic garlands did she come
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples
That liberal shepherds
give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them:
There, on the pendent boughs
her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies and
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature
native and indued
Unto that element: but long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.
Alas, then, she is drown'd?
Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,
And therefore I forbid my tears: but yet
It is our trick; nature
her custom holds,
Let shame say what it will: when these are gone,
The woman will be out. Adieu, my
I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze,
But that this folly douts it.
Let's follow, Gertrude:
How much I had to do to calm his rage!
Now fear I this will give it start
Therefore let's follow.