and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence.
End of Part OneOrder of Lenin
LENFILM Studio
HAMLET
Based on the tragedy by
SHAKESPEARE
Part Two
Mother!
My lady!
Tell him your Grace has stood between
Much heat and him.
I'll sconce me even here.
Pray you, be round with him.
Now, mother, what's the matter?
Hamlet, thou have thy father much
offended.
Mother, you have my father much
offended.
- You answer with an idle tongue.
- You question with a wicked tongue.
Why, how now, Hamlet?
- What's the matter now?
- Have you forgot me?
No, by the rood, not so.
You're the queen, your husband's
brother's wife, and, alas, my mother.
Nay, then, I'll set those to you that
can speak.
Come, come!
And sit you down.
You shall not budge.
You go not till I set you up a glass
Where you may see your inmost part.
What will thou do?
Thou will not murder me?
- Help, help, ho!
- What, ho! Help, help, help!
How now! A rat?
Dead for a ducat!
Dead!
- O me, what have thou done?
- Nay, I know not. Is it the king?
O, what a rash and bloody deed is
this!
Almost as bad, good mother,
As kill a king and marry his brother.
As kill a king?
Ay, lady, 'twas my word.
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool,
farewell!
I took thee for thy better.
Thou find'st to be too busy is some
danger.
Leave wringing of your hands. Sit you
down.
And let me wring your heart,
If it be made of penetrable stuff,
If damned custom have not brazed it so
That it is proof against sense.
What have I done that thou are
So rude against me?
Such an act that...
Look here, upon this picture...
...and on this.
The counterfeit presentment
of two brothers.
See, what a grace was seated on this
brow,
A combination and a form indeed,
Where every god did set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a man.
This was your husband. Look you now,
What follows. Here is your husband,
Like a mildewed ear,
Blasting his wholesome brother.
Have you eyes?
You cannot call it love.
For at your age the heyday in the
blood waits upon the judgement.
And whatjudgement
Would step from this to this?
O shame! Where is thy blush?
If you canst mutine in a matron's bones,
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
And melt in her own fire!
O Hamlet, speak no more!
Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very
soul,
And there I see such black spots
As will not leave their tinct.
Nay, but to live
In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,
Stewed in corruption, honeying
Over the nasty sty...
O, speak to me no more!
These words, like daggers,
Enter in mine ears.
...A murderer and a villain,
A slave that is not twentieth part
The tithe of your precedent lord.
A vice of kings,
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule.
Hamlet, no more!
How is it with you?
Whereon do you look?
This is the very coinage of your brain.
My pulse, as yours, does temperately
keep time.
It is not madness that I have
Uttered. Bring me to the test,
And I the matter will re-word, which
Madness would gambol from.
Lay not that flattering unction to
soul,
That not your trespass, but my madness
speaks.
It will but skin and film the ulcer,
Whilst rank corruption infects unseen.
O Hamlet, thou have cleft my heart
in twain!
O, throw away the worser part of it,
And live the purer with the other half.
Good night.
But go not to my uncle's bed.
For this same lord,
I do repent.
I'll bestow him, and will answer well
The death I gave him.
So, again, good night.
I must be cruel, only to be kind.
Thus bad begins, and worse remains
behind.
One word more, good lady.
What shall I do?
Not this, by no means, that I bid
you do.
Let the bloat king tempt you again
to bed,
And let him, for a pair of reechy
kisses,
Make you to ravel all this matter out,
That I essentially am not in madness,
But mad in craft.
Be thou assured, I have no life
to breathe
What thou have said to me.
- I must to England, you know that?
- Alack.
I had forgot. 'Tis so concluded on.
Good