Hamlet E-Book

William Shakespeare

• Herausgeber: Interactive Media
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Beschreibung

Hamlet

Leseprobe

William Shakespeare

Hamlet

The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark

LONDON NEW YORK MELBOURNE TORONTO

MOSCOW CAPE TOWN AUCKLAND

New Edition, Timeless Classic

Published by Sovereign

[e-mail]

www.interactive.eu.com

This Edition

First published in 2012

Author: William Shakespeare

Editor: Max Bollinger

Copyright © 2012 Sovereign

Cover design and artwork © 2012 urban-pic.co.uk

All Rights Reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

The greatest care has been taken in compiling this book. However, no responsibility can be accepted by the publishers or compilers for the accuracy of the information presented.

ISBN: 9781909175631 (ebk)

Bref: HAM-07

Contents

CAST

ACT I

SCENE I. ELSINORE. A PLATFORM BEFORE THE CASTLE.

SCENE II. A ROOM OF STATE IN THE CASTLE.

SCENE III. A ROOM IN POLONIUS’ HOUSE.

SCENE IV. THE PLATFORM.

SCENE V. ANOTHER PART OF THE PLATFORM.

ACT II

SCENE I. A ROOM IN POLONIUS’ HOUSE.

SCENE II. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

ACT III

SCENE I. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

SCENE II. A HALL IN THE CASTLE.

SCENE III. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

SCENE IV. THE QUEEN’S CLOSET.

ACT IV

SCENE I. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

SCENE II. ANOTHER ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

SCENE III. ANOTHER ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

SCENE IV. A PLAIN IN DENMARK.

SCENE V. ELSINORE. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

SCENE VI. ANOTHER ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

SCENE VII. ANOTHER ROOM IN THE CASTLE.

ACT V

SCENE I. A CHURCHYARD.

SCENE II. A HALL IN THE CASTLE.

CAST

Claudius, King of Denmark

Hamlet, son to the late, and nephew to the present king

Polonius, Lord Chamberlain

Horatio, friend to Hamlet

Laertes, son to Polonius

Voltimand, Cornelius, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, Osric, A Gentleman, courtiers

A Priest

Marcellus, Barnardo, officers

Francisco, a soldier

Reynaldo, servant to Polonius

Players

Two Clowns, grave-diggers

Fortinbras, Prince of Norway

A Captain

English Ambassadors

Gertrude, Queen of Denmark and mother to Hamlet

Ophelia, daughter to Polonius

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

Ghost of Hamlet’s Father

ACT I

SCENE I. ELSINORE. A PLATFORM BEFORE THE CASTLE.

FRANCISCO at his post. Enter to him BERNARDO

BERNARDO

Who’s there?

FRANCISCO

Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.

BERNARDO

Long live the king!

FRANCISCO

Bernardo?

BERNARDO

He.

FRANCISCO

You come most carefully upon your hour.

BERNARDO

‘Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco.

FRANCISCO

For this relief much thanks: ‘tis bitter cold,And I am sick at heart.

BERNARDO

Have you had quiet guard?

FRANCISCO

Not a mouse stirring.

BERNARDO

Well, good night.If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.

FRANCISCO

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

Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS

HORATIO

Friends to this ground.

MARCELLUS

And liegemen to the Dane.

FRANCISCO

Give you good night.

MARCELLUS

O, farewell, honest soldier:Who hath relieved you?

FRANCISCO

Bernardo has my place.Give you good night.

Exit

MARCELLUS

Holla! Bernardo!

BERNARDO

Say,What, is Horatio there?

HORATIO

A piece of him.

BERNARDO

Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus.

MARCELLUS

What, has this thing appear’d again to-night?

BERNARDO

I have seen nothing.

MARCELLUS

Horatio says ‘tis but our fantasy,And will not let belief take hold of himTouching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us:Therefore I have entreated him alongWith 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.

BERNARDO

Sit down awhile;And let us once again assail your ears,That are so fortified against our storyWhat we have two nights seen.

HORATIO

Well, sit we down,And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.

BERNARDO

Last night of all,When yond same star that’s westward from the poleHad made his course to illume that part of heavenWhere now it burns, Marcellus and myself,The bell then beating one,—

Enter Ghost

MARCELLUS

Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!

BERNARDO

In the same figure, like the king that’s dead.

MARCELLUS

Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.

BERNARDO

Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio.

HORATIO

Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder.

BERNARDO

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 formIn which the majesty of buried DenmarkDid sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, speak!

MARCELLUS

It is offended.

BERNARDO

See, it stalks away!

HORATIO

Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak!

Exit Ghost

MARCELLUS

‘Tis gone, and will not answer.

BERNARDO

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 believeWithout the sensible and true avouchOf mine own eyes.

MARCELLUS

Is it not like the king?

HORATIO

As thou art to thyself:Such was the very armour he had onWhen he the 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 watchSo 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 taskDoes not divide the Sunday from the week;What might be toward, that this sweaty hasteDoth 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,Dared 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 landsWhich he stood seized of, to the conqueror:Against the which, a moiety competentWas gaged by our king; which had return’dTo the inheritance of Fortinbras,Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same covenant,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 thereShark’d up a list of lawless resolutes,For food and diet, to some enterpriseThat hath a stomach in’t; which is no other—As it doth well appear unto our state—But to recover of us, by strong handAnd terms compulsatory, those foresaid landsSo 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 headOf this post-haste and romage in the land.

BERNARDO

I think it be no other but e’en so:Well may it sort that this portentous figureComes armed through our watch; so like the kingThat 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 deadDid squeak and gibber in the Roman streets:As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,Disasters in the sun; and the moist starUpon whose influence Neptune’s empire standsWas sick almost to doomsday with eclipse:And even the like precurse of fierce events,As harbingers preceding still the fatesAnd prologue to the omen coming on,Have heaven and earth together demonstratedUnto our climatures and countrymen.—But soft, behold! lo, where it comes again!

Re-enter Ghost

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:

Cock crows

If thou art privy to thy country’s fate,Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid, O, speak!Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy lifeExtorted treasure in the womb of earth,For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,Speak of it: stay, and speak! Stop it, Marcellus.

MARCELLUS

Shall I strike at it with my partisan?

HORATIO

Do, if it will not stand.

BERNARDO

‘Tis here!

HORATIO

‘Tis here!

MARCELLUS

‘Tis gone!

Exit Ghost

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.

BERNARDO

It was about to speak, when the cock crew.

HORATIO

And then it started like a guilty thingUpon a fearful summons. I have heard,The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throatAwake the god of day; and, at his warning,Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,The extravagant and erring spirit hiesTo his confine: and of the truth hereinThis present object made probation.

MARCELLUS

It faded on the crowing of the cock.Some say that ever ‘gainst that season comesWherein our Saviour’s birth is celebrated,The bird of dawning singeth all night long:And then, they say, no spirit dares 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 to-nightUnto 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 knowWhere we shall find him most conveniently.

Exeunt

SCENE II. A ROOM OF STATE IN THE CASTLE.

Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, HAMLET, POLONIUS, LAERTES, VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, Lords, and Attendants

KING CLAUDIUS

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, The imperial jointress to this warlike state, Have we, as ‘twere with a defeated joy,— With an auspicious and a 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 the 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, Voltimand, 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 delated articles allow. Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty.

CORNELIUS VOLTIMAND

In that and all things will we show our duty.

KING CLAUDIUS

We doubt it nothing: heartily farewell.

Exeunt VOLTIMAND

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 loose 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

My dread 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 CLAUDIUS

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

LORD 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 CLAUDIUS

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 CLAUDIUS

How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

HAMLET

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

QUEEN GERTRUDE

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 GERTRUDE

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 forced breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected ‘havior of the visage, Together with all forms, moods, shapes 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 CLAUDIUS

‘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 persever 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 to-day, ‘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,