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Гамлет. Макбет = Hamlet. Macbeth
Гамлет. Макбет = Hamlet. Macbeth
Гамлет. Макбет = Hamlet. Macbeth
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Гамлет. Макбет = Hamlet. Macbeth

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Представьте, что вы советник, или предатель, или воин, верный королю — мертвому королю — смертному королю. Или, быть может, не верный, или верный не королю, или…
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Другая роль — шотландский тан. Дьявол нашептывает ему обещания величия, к которому путь лежит через голову короля. Но смерти одного недостаточно, и тан захлебывается в пролитой крови.
Готовы примерить их маски?
В настоящем издании оригинальный текст бессмертных трагедий Уильяма Шекспира «Макбет» и «Гамлет» приводится с параллельным переводом А. И. Кронеберга и С. М. Соловьева в сопровождении утонченных гравюр XIX века, выполненных такими мастерами как Кенни Мидоус, Джон Гилберт и Генри Силус, а также гравюрами из иллюстрированного издания Шекспира под редакцией Чарльза Найта.
Для удобства чтения каждая строфа на русском языке расположена напротив соответствующей строфы на английском. Такое расположение позволит без труда сравнивать текст оригинала с переводом, обращать внимание на трудности, с которым сталкивался переводчик, и отмечать наиболее точно переведенные фрагменты.
Твердый переплет с золотым тиснением приятен на ощупь благодаря рельефным элементам и контрасту матовых и глянцевых поверхностей, а утонченное оформление внутри, гравюры и золотистая лента ляссе добавляют книге изысканность и привлекательность. Ее можно приобрести не только для своей коллекции, но и в качестве подарка дорогим и близким людям.
ЯзыкРусский
ИздательАСТ
Дата выпуска11 июл. 2024 г.
ISBN9785171636876
Гамлет. Макбет = Hamlet. Macbeth

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    Гамлет. Макбет = Hamlet. Macbeth - Уильям Шекспир

    Уильям Шекспир

    Hamlet. Macbeth / Гамлет. Макбет

    © ООО «Издательство АСТ», 2024

    Hamlet

    Dramatis Person

    Hamlet, Prince of Denmark.

    Claudius, King of Denmark, Hamlet's uncle.

    The Ghost of the late king, Hamlet's father.

    Gertrude, the Queen, Hamlet's mother, now wife of Claudius.

    Polonius, Lord Chamberlain.

    Laertes, Son to Polonius.

    Ophelia, Daughter to Polonius.

    Horatio, Friend to Hamlet.

    Fortinbras, Prince of Norway.

    Voltemand, Cornelius, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, Osric – Courtiers.

    Marcellus, Barnardo – Officers.

    Francisco, a Soldier.

    Reynaldo, Servant to Polonius.

    Players.

    A Gentleman, Courtier.

    A Priest.

    Two Clowns, Grave-diggers.

    A Captain.

    English Ambassadors.

    Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers, and Attendants.

    Scene. Elsinore.

    Act I

    Scene I

    Elsinore. A platform before the Castle

    Enter Francisco and Barnardo, two sentinels

    Barnardo

    Who's there?

    Francisco

    Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself.

    Barnardo

    Long live the King!

    Francisco

    Barnardo?

    Barnardo

    He.

    Francisco

    You come most carefully upon your hour.

    Barnardo

    'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed, Francisco.

    Francisco

    For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold,

    And I am sick at heart.

    Barnardo

    Have you had quiet guard?

    Francisco

    Not a mouse stirring.

    Barnardo

    Well, good night.

    If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,

    The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.

    [Enter Horatio and Marcellus]

    Francisco

    I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who is there?

    Horatio

    Friends to this ground.

    Marcellus

    And liegemen to the Dane.

    Francisco

    Give you good night.

    Marcellus

    O, farewell, honest soldier, who hath reliev'd you?

    Francisco

    Barnardo has my place. Give you good-night.

    [Exit]

    Marcellus

    Holla, Barnardo!

    Barnardo

    Say, what, is Horatio there?

    Horatio

    A piece of him.

    Barnardo

    Welcome, Horatio. Welcome, good Marcellus.

    Marcellus

    What, has this thing appear'd again tonight?

    Barnardo

    I have seen nothing.

    Marcellus

    Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy,

    And will not let belief take hold of him

    Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us.

    Therefore I have entreated him along

    With us to watch the minutes of this night,

    That if again this apparition come

    He may approve our eyes and speak to it.

    Horatio

    Tush, tush, 'twill not appear.

    Barnardo

    Sit down awhile,

    And let us once again assail your ears,

    That are so fortified against our story,

    What we two nights have seen.

    Horatio

    Well, sit we down,

    And let us hear Barnardo speak of this.

    Barnardo

    Last night of all,

    When yond same star that's westward from

                             the pole,

    Had made his course t'illume that part of heaven

    Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,

    The bell then beating one —

    Marcellus

    Peace, break thee off. Look where it comes again.

    [Enter Ghost]

    Barnardo

    In the same figure, like the King that's dead.

    Marcellus

    Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.

    Barnardo

    Looks it not like the King? Mark it, Horatio.

    Horatio

    Most like. It harrows me with fear and wonder.

    Barnardo

    It would be spoke to.

    Marcellus

    Question it, Horatio.

    Horatio

    What art thou that usurp'st this time of night,

    Together with that fair and warlike form

    In which the majesty of buried Denmark

    Did sometimes march? By heaven I charge

                             thee speak.

    Marcellus

    It is offended.

    Barnardo

    See, it stalks away.

    Horatio

    Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee speak!

    [Exit Ghost]

    Marcellus

    'Tis gone, and will not answer.

    Barnardo

    How now, Horatio! You tremble and look pale.

    Is not this something more than fantasy?

    What think you on't?

    Horatio

    Before my God, I might not this believe

    Without the sensible and true avouch

    Of mine own eyes.

    Marcellus

    Is it not like the King?

    Horatio

    As thou art to thyself:

    Such was the very armour he had on

    When he th'ambitious Norway combated;

    So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle

    He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice.

    'Tis strange.

    Marcellus

    Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour,

    With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.

    Horatio

    In what particular thought to work I know not;

    But in the gross and scope of my opinion,

    This bodes some strange eruption to our state.

    Marcellus

    Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows,

    Why this same strict and most observant watch

    So nightly toils the subject of the land,

    And why such daily cast of brazen cannon

    And foreign mart for implements of war;

    Why such impress of shipwrights,

                             whose sore task

    Does not divide the Sunday from the week.

    What might be toward, that this sweaty haste

    Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day:

    Who is't that can inform me?

    Horatio

    That can I;

    At least, the whisper goes so. Our last King,

    Whose image even but now appear'd to us,

    Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,

    Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride,

    Dar'd to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet,

    For so this side of our known world esteem'd him,

    Did slay this Fortinbras; who by a seal'd compact,

    Well ratified by law and heraldry,

    Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands

    Which he stood seiz'd of, to the conqueror;

    Against the which, a moiety competent

    Was gaged by our King; which had return'd

    To the inheritance of Fortinbras,

    Had he been vanquisher; as by the same cov'nant

    And carriage of the article design'd,

    His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras,

    Of unimproved mettle, hot and full,

    Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there,

    Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes,

    For food and diet, to some enterprise

    That hath a stomach in't; which is no other,

    As it doth well appear unto our state,

    But to recover of us by strong hand

    And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands

    So by his father lost. And this, I take it,

    Is the main motive of our preparations,

    The source of this our watch, and the chief head

    Of this post-haste and rummage in the land.

    Barnardo

    I think it be no other but e'en so:

    Well may it sort that this portentous figure

    Comes armed through our watch so like the

                             King

    That was and is the question of these wars.

    Horatio

    A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.

    In the most high and palmy state of Rome,

    A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,

    The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead

    Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets;

    As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,

    Disasters in the sun; and the moist star,

    Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands,

    Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse.

    And even the like precurse of fierce events,

    As harbingers preceding still the fates

    And prologue to the omen coming on,

    Have heaven and earth together demonstrated

    Unto our climatures and countrymen.

    [Re-enter Ghost]

    But, soft, behold! Lo, where it comes again!

    I'll cross it, though it blast me. Stay, illusion!

    If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,

    Speak to me.

    If there be any good thing to be done,

    That may to thee do ease, and grace to me,

    Speak to me.

    If thou art privy to thy country's fate,

    Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid,

    O speak!

    Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life

    Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,

    For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,

    Speak of it. Stay, and speak!

    [The cock crows]

    Stop it, Marcellus!

    Marcellus

    Shall I strike at it with my partisan?

    Horatio

    Do, if it will not stand.

    Barnardo

    'Tis here!

    Horatio

    'Tis here!

    [Exit Ghost]

    Marcellus

    'Tis gone!

    We do it wrong, being so majestical,

    To offer it the show of violence,

    For it is as the air, invulnerable,

    And our vain blows malicious mockery.

    Barnardo

    It was about to speak, when the cock crew.

    Horatio

    And then it started, like a guilty thing

    Upon a fearful summons. I have heard

    The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,

    Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat

    Awake the god of day; and at his warning,

    Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,

    Th'extravagant and erring spirit hies

    To his confine. And of the truth herein

    This present object made probation.

    Marcellus

    It faded on the crowing of the cock.

    Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes

    Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,

    The bird of dawning singeth all night long;

    And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad,

    The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,

    No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm;

    So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.

    Horatio

    So have I heard, and do in part believe it.

    But look, the morn in russet mantle clad,

    Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill.

    Break we our watch up, and by my advice,

    Let us impart what we have seen tonight

    Unto young Hamlet; for upon my life,

    This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.

    Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,

    As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?

    Marcellus

    Let's do't, I pray, and I this morning know

    Where we shall find him most conveniently.

    [Exeunt]

    Scene II

    Elsinore. A room of state in the Castle

    Enter Claudius King of Denmark, Gertrude the Queen, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, Voltemand, Cornelius, Lords and Attendant

    King

    Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death

    The memory be green, and that it us befitted

    To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole

                             kingdom

    To be contracted in one brow of woe;

    Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature

    That we with wisest sorrow think on him,

    Together with remembrance of ourselves.

    Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,

    Th'imperial jointress to this warlike state,

    Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,

    With one auspicious and one dropping eye,

    With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in

                             marriage,

    In equal scale weighing delight and dole,

    Taken to wife; nor have we herein barr'd

    Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone

    With this affair along. For all, our thanks.

    Now follows, that you know young Fortinbras,

    Holding a weak supposal of our worth,

    Or thinking by our late dear brother's death

    Our state to be disjoint and out of frame,

    Colleagued with this dream of his advantage,

    He hath not fail'd to pester us with message,

    Importing the surrender of those lands

    Lost by his father, with all bonds of law,

    To our most valiant brother. So much for him.

    Now for ourself and for this time of meeting:

    Thus much the business is: we have here writ

    To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,

    Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears

    Of this his nephew's purpose, to suppress

    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,

    Giving to you no further personal power

    To business with the King, more than the scope

    Of these dilated articles allow.

    Farewell; and let your haste commend your

                             duty.

    Cornelius and Voltemand

    In that, and all things, will we show our duty.

    King

    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,

    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.

    What wouldst thou have, Laertes?

    Laertes

    Dread my lord,

    Your leave and favour to return to France,

    From whence though willingly I came to Denmark

    To show my duty in your coronation;

    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.

    King

    Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius?

    Polonius

    He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave

    By laboursome petition; and at last

    Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent.

    I do beseech you give him leave to go.

    King

    Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine,

    And thy best graces spend it at thy will!

    But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son —

    Hamlet

    [Aside]

    A little more than kin, and less than kind.

    King

    How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

    Hamlet

    Not so, my lord, I am too much i' the sun.

    Queen

    Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off,

    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.

    Hamlet

    Ay, madam, it is common.

    Queen

    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,

    Nor customary suits of solemn black,

    Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,

    No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,

    Nor the dejected haviour of the visage,

    Together with all forms, moods, 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;

    These but the trappings 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, and the survivor bound

    In filial obligation, for some term

    To do obsequious sorrow. But to persevere

    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;

    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,

    A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,

    To reason most absurd, whose common theme

    Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,

    From the first corse till he that died today,

    'This must be so.' We pray you throw to earth

    This unprevailing woe, and think of us

    As of a father; for let the world take note

    You are the most immediate to our throne,

    And with no less nobility of love

    Than that which dearest father bears his son

    Do I impart toward you. For your intent

    In going back to school in Wittenberg,

    It is most retrograde to our desire:

    And we beseech you bend you to remain

    Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye,

    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.

    Hamlet

    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; in grace whereof,

    No jocund health that Denmark drinks today

    But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell,

    And the King's rouse the heaven shall

                             bruit again,

    Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.

    [Exeunt all but Hamlet]

    Hamlet

    O that this too too solid flesh would melt,

    Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!

    Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd

    His canon 'gainst self-slaughter. O God! O God!

    How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable

    Seem to me all the uses of this world!

    Fie on't! Oh fie! 'tis an unweeded garden

    That grows to seed; things rank and gross

                             in nature

    Possess it merely. 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; so loving to my mother,

    That he might not beteem 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 followed my poor father's body

    Like Niobe, all tears.-Why she, even she —

    O God! A beast that wants discourse of reason

    Would have mourn'd longer, – married

                             with mine uncle,

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

    Than I to Hercules. Within a month,

    Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears

    Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,

    She married. O most wicked speed, to post

    With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!

    It is not, nor it cannot come to good.

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

    [Enter Horatio, Marcellus and Barnardo]

    Horatio

    Hail to your lordship!

    Hamlet

    I am glad to see you well:

    Horatio, or I do forget myself.

    Horatio

    The same, my lord,

    And your poor servant ever.

    Hamlet

    Sir, my good friend;

    I'll change that name with you:

    And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?

                             Marcellus?

    Marcellus

    My good lord.

    Hamlet

    I am very glad to see you.-Good even, sir. —

    But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?

    Horatio

    A truant disposition, good my lord.

    Hamlet

    I would not hear your enemy say so;

    Nor shall you do my 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.

    Horatio

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

    Hamlet

    I prithee do not mock me, fellow-student.

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

    Horatio

    Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.

    Hamlet

    Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats

    Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.

    Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven

    Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio

    My father, – methinks I see my father.

    Horatio

    Where, my lord?

    Hamlet

    In my mind's eye, Horatio.

    Horatio

    I saw him once; he was a goodly king.

    Hamlet

    He was a man, take him for all in all,

    I shall not look upon his like again.

    Horatio

    My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.

    Hamlet

    Saw? Who?

    Horatio

    My lord, the King your father.

    Hamlet

    The King my father!

    Horatio

    Season your admiration for a while

    With an attent ear, till I may deliver

    Upon the witness of these gentlemen

    This marvel to you.

    Hamlet

    For God's love let me hear.

    Horatio

    Two nights together had these gentlemen,

    Marcellus and Barnardo, on their watch

    In the dead waste and middle of the night,

    Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,

    Armed at point exactly, cap-à-pie,

    Appears before them, and with solemn march

    Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd

    By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes,

    Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distill'd

    Almost to jelly with the act of fear,

    Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me

    In dreadful secrecy impart they did,

    And I with them the third night kept the watch,

    Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,

    Form of the thing, each word made true and good,

    The apparition comes. I knew your father;

    These hands are not more like.

    Hamlet

    But where was this?

    Marcellus

    My lord, upon the platform where we watch.

    Hamlet

    Did you not speak to it?

    Horatio

    My lord, I did;

    But answer made it none: yet once methought

    It lifted up it head, and did address

    Itself to motion, like as it would speak.

    But even then the morning cock crew loud,

    And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,

    And vanish'd from our sight.

    Hamlet

    'Tis very strange.

    Horatio

    As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true;

    And we did think it writ down in our duty

    To let you know of it.

    Hamlet

    Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.

    Hold you the watch tonight?

    Marcellus and Barnardo

    We do, my lord.

    Hamlet

    Arm'd, say you?

    Both

    Arm'd, my lord.

    Hamlet

    From top to toe?

    Both

    My lord, from head to foot.

    Hamlet

    Then saw you not his face?

    Horatio

    O yes, my lord, he wore his beaver up.

    Hamlet

    What, look'd he frowningly?

    Horatio

    A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.

    Hamlet

    Pale, or red?

    Horatio

    Nay, very pale.

    Hamlet

    And fix'd his eyes upon you?

    Horatio

    Most constantly.

    Hamlet

    I would I had been there.

    Horatio

    It would have much amaz'd you.

    Hamlet

    Very like, very like. Stay'd it long?

    Horatio

    While one with moderate haste might tell

                             a hundred.

    Marcellus and Barnardo

    Longer, longer.

    Horatio

    Not when I saw't.

    Hamlet

    His beard was grizzled, no?

    Horatio

    It was, as I have seen it in his life,

    A sable silver'd.

    Hamlet

    I will watch tonight;

    Perchance 'twill walk again.

    Horatio

    I warrant you it will.

    Hamlet

    If it assume my noble father's person,

    I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape

    And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,

    If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,

    Let it be tenable in your silence still;

    And whatsoever else shall hap tonight,

    Give it an understanding, but no tongue.

    I will requite your loves. So, fare ye well.

    Upon the platform 'twixt eleven and twelve,

    I'll visit you.

    All

    Our duty to your honour.

    Hamlet

    Your loves, as mine to you: farewell.

    [Exeunt Horatio, Marcellus and Barnardo]

    My father's spirit in arms! All is not well;

    I doubt some foul play: would the night

         were come!

    Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise,

    Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's

         eyes.

    [Exit]

    Scene III

    A room in Polonius's house

    Enter Laertes and Ophelia

    Laertes

    My necessaries are embark'd. Farewell.

    And, sister, as the winds give benefit

    And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,

    But let me hear from you.

    Ophelia

    Do you doubt that?

    Laertes

    For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,

    Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood;

    A violet in the youth of primy nature,

    Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting;

    The perfume and suppliance of a minute;

    No more.

    Ophelia

    No more but so?

    Laertes

    Think it no more.

    For nature crescent does not grow alone

    In thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes,

    The inward service of the mind and soul

    Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,

    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 'scapes 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 judgement.

    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

    Have of your audience been most free

                             and bounteous.

    If it be so, – as so 'tis put on me,

    And that in way of caution, – I must tell you

    You do not understand yourself so clearly

    As it behoves my daughter

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