Hamlet. To be, or not to be- that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 1750
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die- to sleep-
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks 1755
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die- to sleep.
To sleep- perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub!
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 1760
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, 1765
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life, 1770
But that the dread of something after death-
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns- puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of? 1775
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry 1780
And lose the name of action.- Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia!- Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins rememb'red.
Ophelia. Good my lord,
How does your honour for this many a day? 1785
Hamlet. I humbly thank you; well, well, well.
Ophelia. My lord, I have remembrances of yours
That I have longed long to re-deliver.
I pray you, now receive them.
Hamlet. No, not I! 1790
I never gave you aught.
Ophelia. My honour'd lord, you know right well you did,
And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd
As made the things more rich. Their perfume lost,
Take these again; for to the noble mind 1795
Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
There, my lord.
Hamlet. Ha, ha! Are you honest?
Ophelia. My lord?
Hamlet. Are you fair? 1800
Ophelia. What means your lordship?
Hamlet. That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no
discourse to your beauty.
Ophelia. Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?
Hamlet. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform 1805
honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can
translate beauty into his likeness. This was sometime a paradox,
but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once.
Ophelia. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
Hamlet. You should not have believ'd me; for virtue cannot so 1810
inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it. I loved you
not.
Ophelia. I was the more deceived.
Hamlet. Get thee to a nunnery! Why wouldst thou be a breeder of
sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse 1815
me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me.
I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my
beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give
them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I
do, crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves all; 1820
believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your
father?
Ophelia. At home, my lord.
Hamlet. Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool
nowhere but in's own house. Farewell. 1825
Ophelia. O, help him, you sweet heavens!
Hamlet. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry:
be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape
calumny. Get thee to a nunnery. Go, farewell. Or if thou wilt
needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what 1830
monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go; and quickly too.
Farewell.
Ophelia. O heavenly powers, restore him!
Hamlet. I have heard of your paintings too, well enough. God hath
given you one face, and you make yourselves another. You jig, you 1835
amble, and you lisp; you nickname God's creatures and make your
wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't! it hath made
me mad. I say, we will have no moe marriages. Those that are
married already- all but one- shall live; the rest shall keep as
they are. To a nunnery, go. Exit. 1840
Ophelia. O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
The courtier's, scholar's, soldier's, eye, tongue, sword,
Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state,
The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
Th' observ'd of all observers- quite, quite down! 1845
And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;
That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth 1850
Blasted with ecstasy. O, woe is me
T' have seen what I have seen, see what I see!