All language subtitles for Hamlet-Horatio (1h,37) 2021

- Here we go guys, we'll
do it nice and smooth.

Can I have the first wall, please.

House lights on.

First tree, we're gonna
put that on the mark.

That one goes over there,

you'll see the marking.

House lights on.

Can I have the swords, one for Hamlet?

Awesome.

That's the one you practiced with, right?

- Ah, yes, I think so.

- The actors can come out.

Ophelia, there she is.

Oh, you look beautiful.

I love this dress.

I'm so glad we chose this one.

- I know.

- We're gonna, please go
there with Hamlet and Laertes.

I heard the choreography yesterday
was a little too intense.

What's going on over here?

I saw her spinning before.

Is that like a warmup?

- Yes.
- Is that a thing we do?

So why don't we spin our way onto the set.

And these candles, this
is for Gertrude's bedroom.

Okay.

Can we smoke it up please?

- Everybody quiet on
set, let's roll sound.

Roll camera.

Great, from the Horatio, scene
one output, take one, mark.

- And action!

- Tell my story.

The rest is silence.

- Although of Hamlet,
our dear brother's death,

the memory be green.

The time hath come to set our grief aside.

Therefore our former
sister, and now our queen,

we became man and wife.

How is it that the clouds
still hang over you?

- Good Hamlet, cast your
mourning clothing off

and let your eye look
down with love on Denmark.

Do not forever with your down cast lids

seek for your noble father anymore.

You know, it's normal.

All that lives must die.

Passing through nature to eternity.

- I know it's normal, Mother.

- If you know, why seems it
then so different with you?

- Seems?

No, it is.

I know not seems.

It's not alone my inky cloak, good mother,

nor customary suit so solemn black,

nor running river in my eye
could describe me truly.

These indeed seem,

for they're the actions
that a man might feign.

What I feel inside, is not pretense.

- It's good and commendable
in your nature, Hamlet,

to reverently mourn your father's death.

But to persist in endless
mourning is unmanly grief.

You are direct successor to our throne

and with no less nobility of love,

any caring father bears his son.

I offer up my love to you.

For your intent to go back
now to school at Wittenberg

does go against our
prayers and our wishes.

- We do implore-

- And urge you to remain here,

in the cheer and comfort of our court.

Our foremost courtier
and our cherished son.

- Let not your mother
lose her prayers, Hamlet.

Please stay with us.

And don't return to Wittenberg.

- I will obey your wishes,

my dear mother.

Oh that this too, too
sullied flesh would melt,

thaw, dissolve itself into a dew.

Or that the everlasting
can not set his laws

against self slaughter.

God, oh God, how weary, stale, flat,

and unprofitable seem to me
all the workings of this world.

Heaven and earth, must I remember?

Within a month she married
almost wicked speed

to race with such alacrity,
to incestuous sheets.

My God, a beast that
lacks all sense of reason

would have mourned longer!

But she...

Married my uncle.

My father's brother,

but no more like my
father than I to Hercules.

It cannot and it will not come to good.

Horatio?

What brings you here from
school at Wittenberg?

- A truant disposition.

- I know my fellow
student is not a truant.

- Hamlet, Hamlet, Hamlet!

- Oh.

What a piece of work is a man.

How noble in reason, how
infinite in faculties,

informed and moving, how
express and admirable in action.

How, like an angel in
apprehension, how like a-

- God.

- The beauty of the world,
the Paragon of animals.

And yet to me, what is
this quintessence of?

- Dust.

- There are more things in
heaven and earth Horatio

than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

Now, what's brought about
this unexpected visit?

- Your father's unexpected funeral.

- Not my mother's unexpected wedding?

- Her hasty wedding came as a surprise.

- Thrift, thrift, Horatio.

The cooked meats left uneaten
at my father's funeral

were coldly served up
at my mother's wedding.

- Wedding.

- When I had met my dearest foe in heaven,

than live to see that
hellish day, Horatio.

And throughout it all,

I still see my father.

- See?

Where?

- Here.

And in my mind's eye.

- He was a goodly king.

- He was a man.

And even with his faults,

I shall not look upon his like again.

- Hamlet...

I think I saw your father,

late last night.

- Saw?

- Yes.
- My father?

- For two nights has the spirit

of your father appeared before me.

- Did he speak?

- He lifted his head as if
to speak, but said nothing,

and vanished before my sight.

- My father's spirit?

- His face was filled
with sorrow and despair.

- I fear some foul play
and foul deeds will rise.

- Hear me, Hamlet.

I am doomed to walk the
earth until the crimes

done to me in my life are
burnt and purged away.

- Crimes?

- If ever you did love your
dearest father, revenge,

my foul and most unholy murder.

- Murder?

- Murder most foul.

While sleeping in my orchard,

a serpent stung me.

Dear Hamlet, know the serpent
that did take your father's

life now wears his crown.

- My uncle?

- Yes, that incestuous, adulterous beast,

with evil overtures and sensual
lust did seduce with guile

my seeming virtuous queen.

Asleep within my garden,

your uncle stole upon me as I slept

and poured a poison potion down my ear.

And by my brother's hand
was I usurped of life,

of crown, of queen and left for dead

with all my imperfections unconfessed.

Let not the royal bed
of Denmark be a couch

for infidelity, and incest.

Revenge my foul murder or I'm damned.

- Alas poor ghost.

I will remember you.

I will not let your soul be cursed

to walk upon this earth for all eternity.

I will not sleep until you are revenged.

Oh, villain, villain, smiling.

Damn villain.

How one may smile, smile and be a villain.

- The time is out of joint.

- Oh fateful night.

That ever I was born to set it right.

- For Hamlet's letter and
this trifle of his favor.

It is just a passing
fancy and nothing more.

A rose bud in the bloom
of a young man's nature.

Passing, not permanent.

Sweet, nothing more.

- Nothing?

- No, nothing.

His high rank means his
will is not his own.

And he is enslaved forever to his birth.

Just think what loss
your honor may sustain

if with too trusting
ear, you hear his songs,

or you lose your heart, or...

your chaste treasure open

to his relentless royal overtures.

Fear it, Ophelia.

Fear it and remember my sister dear,

best safety lies in fear.

- I'll keep in mind your
warning while you're gone.

But, dear brother, do not
as some impious pastors do,

show me the steep and
thorny path to heaven,

while like a vein and reckless libertine

the path of promiscuity
you take and turn deaf ear

on your own advice.

- Fear not.

- Yet here, Laertes?

Abort, abort.

For shame!

The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail

and you're still here.

Fare ye well.

- Most humbly do I take
my leave, dear father.

Remember well, what I've said to you.

- It's locked within my memory.

- What is it Ophelia,
that he has said to you?

- He spoke of something
doing with Lord Hamlet.

- Tell me what it is
between both you and Hamlet.

- He has of late
made many tender shows

of his affection to me.

- And you believe these
tender shows of his?

- I do not know, dear
father, what to think.

- Then I'll tell you.

Stop acting like a little-

Stop acting like a wanton.

- My Lord, he has expressed his love

to me in honorable fashion.

- Aye, fashion you may call it.

Foolish, foolish girl.

- He's sworn the love
he feels for me is true.

- Be wary daughter, of Lord Hamlet's vows.

Do not believe his words
or cunning thoughts.

I will not in plain terms
from this time forth,

allow you to spend time
alone with him, or,

you to speak a single word to him.

- I shall obey, my Lord.

- My Lord-

- Polonius.

Dear Gertrude has says he's found

the very source of
Hamlet's strange behavior.

- I'm sure it's nothing
more than we have discussed.

His father's death and
our over-hasty marriage.

- My Lord, since brevity
is the soul of wit,

I will be brief.

Your noble son is mad,

his madness manifests itself in myriad-

- More meaning, with the less art.

- Madam, I swear I use no art at all.

Lord Hamlet sent this
letter to my daughter.

"To the celestial and
most beauteous Ophelia,

"and her excellent white breasts-

"Bosom, bosom, bosom."

- Hamlet sent this to her?

- Yes, yes, madam.

"Doubt that the stars are higher,

"doubt that the sun is above,

"doubt truth to be a liar,

"but never doubt I love.

"Oh dear, Ophelia, I am
yours forevermore, Hamlet."

- Has she received his love?

- I gave her stringent
orders that she should not.

That she should lock herself
against any approaches.

Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.

Rejection, rejection is the
cause of Hamlet's madness.

- How can we be certain?

- You know, he always walks
alone there in the hallway.

I'll have Ophelia waiting there for him.

- And?

- We'll hide ourselves and
we'll see what happens.

- We will do it.

- My Lord.

The player King has arrived.

- Welcome!

Old friend.

- Thank you my Lord.

- So what shall we have
the actors perform for us?

- A comedy?
- No.

I once saw you perform a play
called The Murder of Gonzago.

- Aye my Lord.

- Could you perform it tomorrow night?

- Certainly my Lord.

- And could you learn a
speech of some 12 or 16 lines

which I would write for-

- Hamlet.

- Aye, my Lord.

- Then go, make you ready.

You are welcome to Elsinore Castle.

- Thank you, my Lord.

- My Lord.

Follow me this way.

- For all I know, my father's
ghost might be the work

of the devil trying to
deceive and damn me.

I'll have these actors enact the murder

of my father as described
to me by the ghost

before my uncle.

I'll observe my uncle closely.

If he but blink at the
moment of poisoning,

I'll know for sure he's guilty, and...

And I'll kill him.

The play's the thing

wherein I'll catch the
conscience of the King.

I swear it, I swear it, I swear it,

I swear it, I swear it!

Father who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name.

To be...

Or...

Not to be.

That is the question.

Whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer

the slings and arrows
of outrageous fortune.

- Or, take arms against a sea
of troubles and by opposing,

end them.

- To die, to sleep,

no more.

- And by sleep, to say-

- We end the heartache of
a thousand natural shocks

the flesh is air to.

'Tis a consolation devoutly
to be wished, to die.

- To sleep.

- To sleep,

perchance to dream.

- But in that sleep of death,

what dreams may come when we have shuffled

off this mortal coil, this...

must give us pause.

- The dread of something after death.

- Yes, the undiscovered
country from whose borders

no traveler returns.

- And this makes us rather
bare those ills we have.

- Than fight to others
that we know not of.

- Thus conscience does
make cowards of us all.

- And we lose the name.

- Of action.
- Of action.

- Remember me, Hamlet.

Revenge my foul murder.

Revenge me.

Swear it.

- I swear.

- Swear it.

- I swear.

I swear it, I swear it,
I swear it, I swear it,

I swear it, I swear it, I swear it!

I swear it!

- Get what you can from him.
- I shall, my Lord.

- Ophelia, sit you down here.

Gracious King so please you,

we will conceal ourselves
behind the tapestry.

Pray you on this book,

with feigned devotion.

Sit.

- How does my Lord on such a lovely day?

- Well.

Well.

Well.

- What are you reading, my Lord?

- Words.

Words.

Words.

- My Lord.

I have this gift of yours and some poems.

And I ask you now to
kindly take them back.

- No, not I.

I never gave you those.

- My honor, Lord, you know
right and well you did.

And with them words of
such sweet breath composed,

made them all the more rich.

Please take these gifts
you gave me back again.

Such gifts prove poor when
the giver proves unkind.

- I did love you, once.

- Indeed, my Lord.

You made me think you did.

- Well, you should not have believed me.

I love you not.

- Then I was deceived.

- Are you honest?

- Honest?
- Yes.

If so, get thee to a nunnery.

Why would you be a breeder of sinners?

What do you expect from men?

We are all utter knaves.

Believe none of us.

Make your way to a nunnery.

Where is your father?

- At home, my Lord.

- Let the doors be shut upon him

so that he may play the fool
nowhere but in his own house.

Farewell.

- Oh, help him, sweet heavens.

- And if you must marry, marry a fool.

For wise men know only
too well what monsters

you make of them.

To a nunnery, go.

And quickly too.

Farewell.

- Oh, heavenly powers, restore him.

- I have seen your painted
faces all too often.

God has given you one face

and you change it to another.

You dance, you sigh, you flirt,

you cover up your wantonness
with feigned innocence.

Enough.

I'll no more of it.

It has made me mad.

I say that from this day forward,

we will have no more marriages.

Those that are married
already, shall live on.

Except one.

To a nunnery.

To a nunnery.

Go.

- It is not so!
- Think for a moment.

- Madness?

Mad for love?

His actions did not
point in that direction.

- Perhaps, but I believe
the origin and cause

of his wild grief resulted
from rejected love.

- I know there's
something in his very soul

on which his melancholy grows and broods.

And I do fear and sense the
end result will lead to danger

which we must prevent.

He must be sent to England without delay.

His death there has been prearranged.

See to it.

- I will, but if we wait
until the play is over,

his mother could all alone
entreat him to speak his mind.

Let her be blunt with him.

And I, I could stay within ear's range.

And if she cannot calm him, then I-

- We'll send him on a
fateful trip to England.

To England.
- To England!

- Horatio.
- Mm?

- You are as wise as you are just.

- Am I?
- Yes.

And since my soul, mistress of my mind,

she has cherished you the
most above all others.

- Me?

- She's chosen you for herself

because you are a soul
who is suffering all,

has suffered nothing.

A man whose fortunes,
downfalls, and rewards you take

with equal grace.

- Do I?

- Give me the man who
is not passion's slave

and I will hold him in my heart's core.

Yes, in my heart of hearts, as I do you.

- And I do you.

- I can't believe I am alive to say

my father's murderer's still unpunished.

He that killed my
father, whored my mother,

dashed my future hopes, is still alive.

- How circumstances all
have turned against you.

- Then Denmark has been
turned into a prison.

- Then is the world one?

- Oh, a large one, with many dungeons,

Denmark being the worst.

- I do not think so.

There's nothing good or bad,
but thinking makes it so.

- Do you not think that
fate calls upon me to smite

my sinful uncle with my sword?

And will I not be damned if I
allow this canker of my being

commit more evil?

- And all the heartfelt
sorrows that beset you,

now spur you to revenge.

- There is a scene

that I have written for the play,

which mirrors what the
ghost described to us.

Observe my uncle.

If his hidden guilt is not revealed

within the opening scene,

it is a demon ghost that spoke to us.

We'll match our thoughts
up when the play is done.

- I'll watch his every move.

- From this time forth,

our thoughts be bloody,

or they be nothing at all.

- For us and our tragedy,

we welcome you to our play.

- My limbs grow weak,

and now I would end the
tedious day with sleep.

- What do you call the play?

- The Mouse Trap.

The play's a reenactment
of a murder done in Vienna.

Gonzago is the King's name.

It's a navish act, but
what of that, Your Majesty?

For those of us with
sinless souls matters not.

This is one Lucianus, brother to the king.

Begin murderer.

Come the croaking raven cries for revenge.

- What black hands poised, drugs set,

the time agreeing.

No mortal is about, no creature seen.

Thy mixture rank of
midnight weeds collected,

distilled three times to infected.

With such strength and lethal potency,

a healthy soul expires.

Helplessly.

- You shall see now.

You shall now-

You shall now see how the
murderer gets the love

of King Gonzago's wife.

- Ah.

- What's wrong?

- Lights.

Lights.

Give me light!

- Stop the play.

- Did you see his face at
the moment of poisoning?

- The ghost spoke the truth.

- Hamlet!
- Polonius.

- Come.
- Hamlet-

- Some music!

Shall we dance?

- Hamlet, stop!

My Lord!

The Queen would speak with you, without-

Without delay.

- I will come to my mother by and by.

- I will say so.

- By and by is easily said.

- Easily, I will say so.
- He will say so.

- I will!

I will say so!

- It is now the very
witching time of night

where church yards yawn
and hell itself breeds

out contagion to this world.

But now could I drink hot blood
and do such bitter business

as the day would quake to look on.

And now off to my mother.

Let me be cruel with
her, but not overly so.

I will speak daggers to her,

but use none.

- Hurry, he's on his way.

Be blunt with him.

I'm going to conceal
myself behind the screen.

- Mother, mother, mother, mother.

Mother, what's the matter?

- Hamlet, you have your
father much offended.

- Mother, you have my
father much offended.

- Come, come, you answer
with a willful tongue.

- Go go, you question
with a wicked tongue.

- Don't speak to me like that.

- What's the matter?

- Have you forgot who I am?

- You are...

the queen.

Your husband's brother's wife.

When it were not so, you were my mother.

- All right then.

I'll call for those
who'll curb your tongue.

- You shall not budge or move.

Now hold still and look until
you see inside your very soul.

- What?

Will you murder me?

Help!

- How now, a rat.

Dead as a doornail.

- What have you done?

- Is it the king?

- What a rash and bloody deed is this.

- A bloody deed.

Almost as bad good mother, as kill a king

and marry with his brother.

- As kill a king?

- Yes, Mother.

That's what I said.

How rash and wretched fool.

Farewell.

Took you for your better.

Take your fortune.

You ring your hands.

But I will ring your heart.

- What have I done?

- An act that makes your marriage vows

as false as gambler's oats.

- What act?

- Look, here, upon this picture.

And...

On this, the true to life
depiction of two brothers.

Behold, the grace and power of his face.

And I like Mars to threaten and command.

This was your husband.

Look you now what follows.

Here is your husband.

Like an abscessed ear, pale
against his wholesome brother.

Have you eyes?

You turn from this, to this?

What are you, blind?

Eyes without feeling,
feeling without sight.

You cannot call it love.

For at your age, the
heyday of your passion

grows tame and weak.

Oh blush, have you no shame?

- Hamlet.

Speak no more.

You have turned my eyes into my very soul,

and there I see indelible black spots

that will not fade away.

- I do not live and wallow
in a rank and loathsome bed,

stewed in corruption
with incestuous sheets.

- Don't say another word.

Your words, like daggers through my ears.

No more, sweet Hamlet.

- A murderer and villain,
a cutthroat of the kingdom

and the state who stole the
crown upon my father's head,

and placed it on his own.

- No more.

- King of shreds and patches.

- No more.

- I must be cruel, only to be kind.

Protect me with your grace
and outstretched wings.

- I come to stir your
soul, to take revenge.

Look there.

Amazement on your mother's eyes.

Go step between her and her tortured soul,

but howsoever you revenge my murder,

don't take her life.

Leave her to heaven.

Speak to her.

- Please, do not come before me anymore.

Your soulful look brings
tears into my eyes.

- Revenge me.

- Who do you see?

With whom do you speak?

- Did you see nothing?

- Nothing at all.

- Nor heard nothing.

- No.

- My father, I saw my father.

- This ghostly appearance is but madness.

- Save your soul.

Confess yourself to heaven.

Repent your past.

Avoid a tragic future.

- Oh, Hamlet.

You split my trembling heart in two.

- I'll throw away the evil part,

and live far purer with the other half.

To England I've been ordered.

- I know.

- What is a
man, if the chief goal

and focus of his life

be but to sleep and eat.

Once in my heart, I had a fear of death

that would not let me sleep.

But now I see there's
a divinity that shapes

all of our ends, no matter
what we will or say or do.

And life ends faster
than you can count one.

Resign yourself to fate.

Just let it be.

Let it be.

Let it be, let it be, let it be,

let it be, let it be,
let it be, let it be,

let it be, let it be!

- Cut!

Cut!

- Let it be, let it be, let it be.

- Moving on.

- Let it be, let it be.

- Moving on.

- Let it be, let it be,
let it be, let it be.

- Where is the handsome son of Denmark?

♪ Tomorrow is Saint Valentine's day ♪

♪ Y'all early in the morning ♪

♪ And I a maid at your window stood ♪

♪ To be your valentine ♪

♪ Then look he rose and
donned his clothes ♪

♪ And opened the chamber door ♪

♪ And then the maid that was a maid ♪

♪ But isn't anymore ♪

♪ But isn't anymore ♪

She says, before you tumbled
me, you promise me to wed.

He answers, so would I
have done by yonder sun,

if you hadn't come to my bed.

My brother shall know of it.

- Sister.

♪ By Jesus and Saint Charity ♪

♪ A lack and cry for shame ♪

♪ Young men will do it ♪

♪ And then you'll rue it ♪

♪ By cock ♪

Ophelia!

- They are to blame.

- How long has she been like this?

- Ever since your father's death.

- I will be revenged.

- There's rosemary.

That's for remembrance.

- Kind sister.

Sweet Ophelia.

- Pray you, love.

Remember me.

- Ah heavens.

Is it possible a young
maid's witch be as mortal

as an old man's life?

- There's fennel for you.

And columbines.

That's for infidelity.

There's rue for you.

That's for repentance.

I would give you some
violets for faithfulness but,

they withered when my father died.

- Oh God.

- Come with me, my child.

- Come, my coach.

Goodnight ladies.

Goodnight, sweet ladies.

Goodnight.

Goodnight.

Goodnight.

- By heaven, her madness will be revenged.

- My Lord.

I have a letter here from Lord Hamlet

delivered by sailor.

- "Reverent King,

"know that I've returned to your kingdom.

"I ask your pardon and
beg leave to see you,

"when I shall explain the
circumstances of my return."

- Do you recognize the writing?

- It's clearly Hamlet's hand.

Leave us.

- It cures the very sickness in my heart

that I shall live to
tell him face to face,

you are a dead man.

- If he comes back,
what would you undertake

to show yourself your father's son,

in deed as well in word?

- I'd cut his throat in church.

- If he returns, I shall devise his death

in such a way shall not fail to fall

and make it all look like an accident.

So even Gertrude will not know the truth.

- And I will be the agent of his fall.

- If he returns, I'll
praise your swordsmanship

and challenge him to meet you in a bout.

I'll make a wager he shall outdo you.

He, unsuspecting, will not
notice if you use a foil

whose tip you have unblunted.

And thus, you shall revenge
your father's death.

- Hell, when I unblunt my foil,

I'll dip the point in poison

I have brought with me from France.

So mortal that a knife that's
dipped in it brings instant

death with just a little scratch.

- In case that fails,
we need a second plan.

When from the bout, he
gets a little thirsty,

I'll offer him a drink
that's tinged with poison.

- What is this
quintessence of dust?

What is this quintessence
of dust, of dust, of dust?

- A spade, a spade, for
and a shrouding sheet.

Oh, ah.

Pit of clay shall soon be made,

for my newest guest to greet.

Oh, ah.
- Whose grave is this?

- Mine, sir.

- I think it yours indeed.

For you lie in it.

- You lie outside it, sir.

Therefore it is not yours.

I do not lie in it.

And yet it is mine.

- You do lie in it.

To be in it and say it's yours.

It's for the dead.

- Therefore you lie for all eternity.

- Only the dead lie for all eternity.

- What man did you dig it for?

- No man, sir.

- What woman then?

- None neither.

- Who is it to be buried in it?

- One who was a woman,

but knowingly drowned herself
and would have been denied

Christian burial had
not she had been a lady

of good birth and wealth.

- How long have you been a grave maker?

- Since the very first day
that the young Lord Hamlet

was born, he that is mad,

and been sent to England.

- Why was he sent to England?

- Because he was mad.

He shall recoup his wits there.

If not, it makes no difference there.

- Why?

- Because all the men
there are as mad as he is.

- How did he become mad?

- By losing his wits.

- Upon what ground?

- Upon these grounds
right here in Denmark.

- How long will a man live
in the earth before he rots?

- If he's not rotten before he dies...

we have many of those nowadays,

it may last eight or nine years.

Here's a skull that's been
laying in the earth for many-

Years.

- Whose was it?

- This very skull sir?

Who do you think?

- I do not know.

- This very skull was Yorick's skull.

The King's jester.

- Sir Yorick.

- This?
- Yes.

- Alas, poor Yorick.

I knew him well.

Fellow of infinite
jokes, flights of fancy.

He bore me on his back a thousand times.

Here, upon those lips I kissed as a child.

I know not how often.

Where be your jibes now?

Your songs, your flashes of merriment,

that made the courts roar.

- Lay her in the earth and
from her fair unpolluted flesh,

may violets spring.

- Sweets to the sweet.

Farewell.

I hoped you would have been Hamlet's wife.

- Ophelia.

- Devil take your soul.
- I loved Ophelia.

- Love?

Love you call it?

- Take Hamlet away, Horatio.

And you Gertrude, watch your son closely.

We'll bring an end to this shortly.

- There's a divinity that
shapes all of our ends.

- You will lose the wager, my Lord.

- I shall win.

But you can't imagine how I feel inside.

- I'm gonna tell the king
you're not fit to fence.

- No, no, no, no.

We defy fate.

There is a special providence
in the fall of the sparrow.

If it be now-

- Then it's not to come.

- And if it be yet to come-

- It will be now.

- And if it be not now-

- Yet, it will come.

- Be ready for it all.

- Just let it be.

- Come Hamlet, come
and take Laertes' hand.

- Forgive the utter
rashness of my actions.

Excuse my madness and accept my love.

- I do receive your love
and I will not wrong it.

- You know the wager?

- I do.

- If you should get the
first or second hit,

the king shall drink to
Hamlet's princely skill.

- My Lords.

Begin!

- A touch.

- A hit.

A very palpable hit.

- Come, again.

- Wait.

Hamlet, have a drink.

Come, just a sip.

- I'll play this bout first.

Come, Laertes.

- Begin!

- Another hit!

What say you?
- A touch, a touch,

I do confess.

- Our son shall win.

- The queen salutes her
son with all her heart.

- I dare not drink yet, Mother.

Wait a while.

- To our son's victory.

- Come, for the third, Laertes.

- What treachery is this?

- My son.

Poison.

- What treachery is this?

- Hamlet.

You are slain.

No medicine in the world can save you now.

The treacherous instrument
was in your hand.

Unblunted and in venom,

the foul device has now been turned on me.

And I die too.

I am justly killed by my own treachery.

Your mother's poisoned.

And the King's to blame.

- Follow my mother.

- Forgive me, Hamlet.

- My Lord.

- I may be dead,

but you'll live on.

- Not for long.

- If you ever did love me, do not do it.

What's happened here
cannot be left unknown.

Tell my story.

The rest is silence.

- Let me speak
to the yet unknowing world,

how these things came about.

Bloody and unnatural acts

of deaths brought on by
evil, cunning and deceit,

all this will I truly tell.