William Shakespeare Collection E-Book

William Shakespeare

• Herausgeber: Skyline
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

THE TRAGEDY OF HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK THE SONNETS THE TEMPEST ROMEO AND JULIET A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM TWELFTH NIGHT "Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows Doth with their death bury their parents' strife. The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, And the continuance of their parents' rage, Which but their children's end naught could remove, Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; The which, if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend. "

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Table of contents

THE TRAGEDY OF HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK

Dramatis Personæ

SCENE. Elsinore.

ACT I

SCENE I. Elsinore. A platform before the Castle.

SCENE II. Elsinore. A room of state in the Castle.

SCENE III. A room in Polonius’s house.

SCENE IV. The platform.

SCENE V. A more remote part of the Castle.

ACT II

SCENE I. A room in Polonius’s 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. Another room in the Castle.

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.

THE SONNETS

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THE TEMPEST.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.1

ACT I.

I. 1 Scene I. On a ship at sea: a tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard.

I. 2 Scene II. The island. Before Prospero’s cell.

ACT II.

II. 1 Scene I. Another part of the island.

II. 2 Scene II. Another part of the island.

ACT III.

III. 1 Scene I. Before Prospero’s cell.

III. 2 Scene II. Another part of the island.

III. 3 Scene III. Another part of the island.

ACT IV.

IV. 1 Scene I. Before Prospero’s cell.

ACT V.

V. 1 Scene I. Before the cell of Prospero.

EPILOGUE.

NOTES.

CRITICAL APPARATUS

ROMEO AND JULIET

ACT I.

ACT II.

ACT III.

ACT IV.

Act V.

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM

ACT I

ACT II

ACT III

ACT IV

ACT V

TWELFTH NIGHT

ACT I.

ACT II.

ACT III.

ACT IV.

ACT V.

THE TRAGEDY OF HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK

Dramatis Personæ

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, Courtier.CORNELIUS, Courtier.ROSENCRANTZ, Courtier.GUILDENSTERN, Courtier.MARCELLUS, Officer.BARNARDO, Officer.FRANCISCO, a SoldierOSRIC, Courtier.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 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 comeHe 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 heavenWhere 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.BARNARDOIt 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.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 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 th’ambitious Norway combated;So frown’d he once, when in an angry parleHe 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 cannonAnd 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,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 landsWhich he stood seiz’d 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 cov’nantAnd 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 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 rummage in the land.BARNARDO.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 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 fatesAnd prologue to the omen coming on,Have heaven and earth together demonstratedUnto 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 lifeExtorted 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 thingUpon a fearful summons. I have heardThe 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,Th’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 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 tonightUnto 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. 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 deathThe memory be green, and that it us befittedTo bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdomTo be contracted in one brow of woe;Yet so far hath discretion fought with natureThat 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’dYour better wisdoms, which have freely goneWith 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 deathOur 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 landsLost 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 writTo Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hearsOf this his nephew’s purpose, to suppressHis further gait herein; in that the levies,The lists, and full proportions are all madeOut of his subject: and we here dispatchYou, good Cornelius, and you, Voltemand,For bearers of this greeting to old Norway,Giving to you no further personal powerTo business with the King, more than the scopeOf 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 DenmarkTo 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 leaveBy laboursome petition; and at lastUpon 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 lidsSeek 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 boundIn filial obligation, for some termTo do obsequious sorrow. But to persevereIn obstinate condolement is a courseOf 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 commonAs any the most vulgar thing to sense,Why should we in our peevish oppositionTake it to heart? Fie, ’tis a fault to heaven,A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,To reason most absurd, whose common themeIs 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 earthThis unprevailing woe, and think of usAs of a father; for let the world take noteYou are the most immediate to our throne,And with no less nobility of loveThan that which dearest father bears his sonDo I impart toward you. For your intentIn going back to school in Wittenberg,It is most retrograde to our desire:And we beseech you bend you to remainHere 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 HamletSits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof,No jocund health that Denmark drinks todayBut 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’dHis canon ’gainst self-slaughter. O God! O God!How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitableSeem to me all the uses of this world!Fie on’t! Oh fie! ’tis an unweeded gardenThat grows to seed; things rank and gross in naturePossess 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 thisHyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother,That he might not beteem the winds of heavenVisit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!Must I remember? Why, she would hang on himAs if increase of appetite had grownBy 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 oldWith which she followed my poor father’s bodyLike Niobe, all tears.—Why she, even she—O God! A beast that wants discourse of reasonWould have mourn’d longer,—married with mine uncle,My father’s brother; but no more like my fatherThan I to Hercules. Within a month?Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tearsHad left the flushing in her galled eyes,She married. O most wicked speed, to postWith 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 reportAgainst 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 meatsDid coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.Would I had met my dearest foe in heavenOr 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 whileWith an attent ear, till I may deliverUpon the witness of these gentlemenThis marvel to you.

HAMLET.For God’s love let me hear.

HORATIO.Two nights together had these gentlemen,Marcellus and Barnardo, on their watchIn 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 marchGoes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk’dBy their oppress’d and fear-surprised eyes,Within his truncheon’s length; whilst they, distill’dAlmost to jelly with the act of fear,Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to meIn 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 methoughtIt lifted up it head, and did addressItself 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 dutyTo let you know of it.

HAMLET.Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.Hold you the watch tonight?

Mar. 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 gapeAnd 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 benefitAnd 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 aloneIn thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes,The inward service of the mind and soulGrows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,