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Гамлет

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they come not
single spies, but in battalions.
First, her father slain.
Next, your son gone,
And he most violent author
Of his own just remove.
The people muddied,
Thick and unwholesome in their
thoughts and whispers,
For good Polonius' death.
Where is the beauteous majesty of
Denmark?
How now, Ophelia?
How should I your true-Iove know
From another one?
By his cockle hat and staff,
And his sandal shoon.
- Sweet lady, what imports this song?
- Say you? Nay.
Pray you, mark.
Larded with sweet flowers,
Which bewept
to the grave did go
With true love showers.
How do you, pretty lady?
I hope all will be well.
We must be patient.
But I cannot choose but weep,
to think they should lay him
in the cold ground.
My brother shall know of it.
And so I thank you for your good
counsel.
Come, my coach!
Good night, ladies.
Good night, sweet ladies.
Tomorrow is Saint Valentine's day,
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose, and donned his
clothes,
And dupt the chamber-door,
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more.
Save yourself, my lord!
The rioters!
Sirs, stand you all without.
I pray you, give me leave.
I thank you. Keep the door.
O thou vile king,
Where is my father?
- Dead.
- But not by him.
Let him demand his fill.
There's such divinity does hedge
a king,
That treason can but peep to what
it would,
Acts little of his will.
How came he dead?
Good Laertes, if you desire to know
the certainty
Of your dear father's death,
is't writ in your revenge,
That, swoopstake, you will draw
Both friend and foe,
Winner and loser?
- None but his enemies.
- Will you know them, then?
Ay, and to his good friends thus wide
I'll ope my arms.
Why, now you speak
Like a good child and a true gentleman.
That I am guiltless of your father's
death,
And am most sensibly in grief for it,
It shall to you be clear as a day.
Let her come in!
They bore him barefaced on the bier,
Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny,
And in his grave rained many a tear,
Fare you well, my dove!
You must sing,
"Down a-down,
an you call him a-down-a."
It is the false steward,
that stole his master's daughter.
Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade
revenge, it could not move thus.
There's rosemary.
That's for remembrance,
pray you, love, remember.
And there is pansies,
that's for thoughts.
There's a daisy.
And here's some for me.
O, you must wear your rue
with a difference.
I would give you some violets,
but they withered all
when my father died.
They say he made a good end.
For bonny sweet Robin,
For bonny sweet Robin
is all my joy...
Do you see this, O God?
Laertes,
I must commune with your grief,
Or you deny me right.
Make choice of whom your wisest
friends you will,
And they shall hear and judge
'twixt you and me.
And we shall jointly labour with
Your soul to give it due content.
Let this be so.
Since you have heard,
That he which has your father slain
Pursued my life.
It well appears.
Why you proceeded not against these
feats,
So crimeful and so capital in nature?
The queen his mother
Lives almost by his looks.
The other motive,
Why to a public count I might not go,
Is the great love the general gender
bear him.
- How now! What news?
- Letters, my lord, from Hamlet.
From Hamlet?
- Who brought them?
- Sailors, my lord, they say.
Laertes,
you shall hear them.
Leave us.
High and mighty,
You shall know I am
set naked
on your kingdom.
Can you advise me?
I'm lost in it, my lord.
But let him come.
Will you be ruled by me?
My lord, I will be ruled.
Horatio!
Thou art e'en as just a man
As e'er my conversation coped withal.
O, my dear lord...
Nay, do not think I flatter.
No, let the candied tongue lick
absurd pomp.
In youth, when I did love, did love,
Methought it was very sweet,
To contract, O, the time, for, ah,
my behove,
O, methought there was nothing meet.
But age, with his
Гамлет Гамлет

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