All language subtitles for Hamlet.en

Dust, noble dust, quintessence of dust...

...beauty of the world.

Dust, returneth to dust.

Noble dust....

Quintessence of dust, returneth to dust.

...or not to be....

Or not to be....

Or not to be.

Dust, noble dust, quintessence of dust....

Beauty of the world...returneth to dust.

King, Father, royal Dane�

What a grace was seated on his brow.

What ceremony else?
What ceremony?

So excellent a king...

...Hyperion's curls,
the front of Jove himself...

...where every god
did seem to set his seal.

He was a man, a man:
I shall not look upon his like again.

O that the Everlasting had not fixed
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter.

Heaven and earth, must I remember?

O God! No more! No more!

That it should come to this!

That it should come to this!

Hold, hold my heart.
Hold, my heart, hold....

...or not...or not to be.

...or not....

The rest is....

The readiness is all.

The King doth wake tonight,
and takes his rouse...

...and as he drains
his draughts of Rhenish down...

...the kettle-drum and trumpet
bray out the triumph, the triumph...

...the triumph of his pledge.

Though yet of 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.

Our King, our kingdom in one brow of woe....

Therefore our sometime sister,
now our Queen....

And now our Queen!

Have we, with defeated joy...

...with mirth in funeral and with
dirge in marriage, taken to wife.

In equal scale delight and dole,
our sometime sister, now our Queen!

And sister, Ophelia...

...for Hamlet and the trifling of his favor...

...hold it a fashion and a toy in blood.

Forward, not permanent,
sweet, not lasting...

...the perfume and suppliance
of a minute, no more.

Good, good, my brother, no more but so?

Think it no more....

The great cannon to the clouds shall tell...

...and the King's rouse
the heaven shall bruit again...

...re-speaking earthly thunder!

Now for ourself, ourself,
and this time of meeting.

To the King!

What says Polonius?
Thou art the father of good news.

Am I, my lord?

I assure my good liege,
I hold my duty as I hold my soul.

The King's rouse the heaven shall bruit again,
re-speaking earthly thunder!

Perhaps, perhaps he loves you now...

...and no soil nor cautel doth
besmirch the virtue of his will.

But you must fear...

...his will is not his own.

Fear it, fear it, best safety lies in fear.

Fear it!

But good, but good, my brother....

Weigh�if with too credent ear you list his songs...

...or your chaste treasure open.

But good, but good my brother�

Weigh what loss your honor may sustain.

Do not show me
the steep and thorny way to heaven...

...while like some reckless libertine himself
the primrose path of dalliance treads...

...and recks not his own rede.

My dear sister, be wary.
Be wary.

Fear it, fear it.
Best safety lies in fear.

Laertes, Laertes.

I stay too long.

Laertes, what's the news with you?
You told us of some suit.

Fear it, fear it.

The head is not more native to the heart...

...than is the throne of Denmark...

...to thy father.

What wouldst thou beg?
What wouldst thou have?

My dread lord,
I must confess, that duty done...

...my wishes bend toward France...

...and bow them to your gracious pardon.

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

Hail. Hail to your lordship. Hail.

�Horatio, or I do forget myself.
�The same, your lordship.

�Marcellus? Good even', sir.
�My good lord.

But what in faith make you from Wittenberg?

A truant disposition.

I know you are no truant.
What's your affair in Elsinore?

My lord, your father's funeral.

Do not mock me.
My mother's wedding.

Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon�

Thrift, thrift, Horatio.

The funeral meats did coldly
furnish forth the marriage tables.

What say you, Polonius?

I do beseech you give him leave.

Upon his will I sealed my hard consent.

Time be thine, Laertes...

...and thy best graces spend it at thy will.

But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son.

A little more than kin, and less than kind.

How is it, Hamlet?

How is it the clouds still hang on you?

Not so, my lord.

Good Hamlet....

My cousin Hamlet and my son.

I am too much in the sun, Mother.

Cast thy nighted color off and let thine eye...

...thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.

Seek not thy noble father in the dust.

Good Hamlet, all that lives must die.

Thou know'st 'tis common.

Ay, 'tis common, Mother.

Passing through nature to eternity.

Ay, 'tis common, Madam.

Good Hamlet!

But 'tis not alone my inky cloak,
good Mother...

...nor forms, nor moods, nor shapes
of grief can denote me truly.

I have that within which passes show.

These but the trappings and the suits of woe.

Farewell, sister, and remember well
what I have said to you.

�Good my brother.
�Hold it a fashion, his will is not his own.

Yes, good my brother.

Fear it, fear it.

Best safety lies in fear.

Yes, good my brother.
'Tis in my memory locked.

Ay, 'tis in my memory locked.

Fear it!

What is it, Ophelia?
What is it he said to you?

So please you,
something touching the Lord Hamlet.

So, what is it?
What's between you?

Give me up the truth.

My lord, he hath importuned me
with love in honorable fashion.

Ay, fashion you call it?

Go to. Go to.

My lord, he hath made
many tenders of his true affection.

Affection? Affection? Pooh.

You speak like a green girl,
unsifted in such perilous circumstance.

A green girl�a baby.

Tender yourself more dearly
or you'll tender me a fool.

Green girl.

'Tis sweet, Hamlet,
'tis sweet to mourn your father...

...'tis sweet and commendable...

...but your father lost a father...

...and that father lost, lost his.

Fie, 'tis a fault to heaven...

'Tis unmanly grief....

...'tis a fault to nature,
'tis a fault against the dead...

...whose common theme is death of fathers.

Come, come away, away....

Away, away.

The King's rouse,
the heaven re-speaking earthly thunder.

No more, no more!

That it should come to this!

But two months dead...
nay, not two�not so much.

So excellent a King,
so loving to my mother...

...and yet within a month�
O most wicked speed�

Married with my uncle.

Let me not think on it.

To post with such dexterity
to incestuous sheets.

My father....

Methinks I see my father�

Where, my lord?

In my mind's eye, Horatio.

My lord? My lord, I think....

My lord, I think I saw....

My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.

Saw? Saw who?

My lord, a figure like your father,
armed at point�

My father? Where was this?

My lord, upon the platform where we watch,
the apparition comes�

For God's love, let me hear!
Did you not speak to it?

My lord, I did, but answer made it none.

'Tis very strange.

�As I do live, 'tis true.
�I would I had been there.

It would have much amazed you.

�Saw you his face?
�Yes, my lord.

�What look'd he, frowningly?
�More in sorrow than in anger.

�Pale, or red?
�Nay, very pale.

�And fixed his eyes upon you?
�Most constantly.

I will watch tonight.

Perchance 'twill walk again.

�I war'nt it will.
�I'll speak to it.

�I'll speak to it.
�To what issue will this come?

I pray you all, if it assume
my noble father's person...

...I'll speak to it.

Though hell itself should gape
and bid me hold my peace!

My lord!

Look. Look, my lord�

My lord, look, it comes, it comes!
Look, my lord, it comes!

Angels!

Angels!

Angels and ministers of grace...

...defend us!

King, Father, royal Dane.

Why have thy canonized bones burst
their cerements to cast thee up again?

Oh, answer me.
I will speak with thee.

It beckons you go with it,
but do not go.

�Do not go, my lord, by no means.
�My fate cries out.

Unhand me, gentlemen...

...or I'll make a ghost of him that stops me.

Angels.

Speak.

Speak.

I'll go no further.

Mark me.

I will.

Mark me.

I will. I will.

O mark me.

If thou didst ever thy dear father love...

...revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

O God! Murder?

Murder most foul,
most strange and unnatural.

Foul? Strange? Unnatural?

Haste me to know it, that I with wings...

...with wings as swift as thoughts of love...

...may sweep...to my revenge.

Now, Hamlet, hear.

'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard...

...a serpent stung me�

But know this, the serpent
that did sting thy father's life...

...now wears his crown.

O my prophetic soul! My uncle!

Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast!

But soft, methinks I scent the morning air�

List, list, O list....

Sleeping within my orchard...

...my custom of the afternoon...

...thy uncle stole the juice of cursed hebenon.

And in the porches of my ears...

...did pour the leperous distillment.

Thus was I,
by a brother's hand...

...of life, of crown, of Queen
at once dispatched.

No reck'ning made, but sent to my account...

...with all my imperfections on my head.

O horrible! Most horrible!

Ay, the beast won to his shameful lust...

...the will of my most seeming-virtuous Queen.

So lust, though linked to a radiant angel...

...will sate itself...

...in a celestial bed, and prey on garbage.

O horrible!

O horrible!

O Hamlet, bear it not.

Let not the royal bed of Denmark
be a couch for luxury and damned incest.

Fare thee well.

Fare thee well at once.

The glow worm shows the matin to be near.

Adieu, adieu, remember me.

Remember me.

Remember thee?

O most pernicious woman!
O villain, smiling damned villain!

Remember thee?

Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe all pressures past.

Thy commandment alone shall live
within the volume of my brain.

So, Uncle, there you are.

Now to my word.

It is "remember me."
I have sworn it.

Welcome, dear Rosencrantz
and Guildenstern.

Welcome, dear Guildenstern,
dear Rosencrantz.

We much did long to see you.

�Something have you heard...
�Two men there is not living...

�...to whom he more adheres.
�...of Hamlet's transformation?

Your visitation shall receive such thanks...

He hath lost the very heart of all his sense.

...such thanks as fits a King's remembrance.

What it should be, more than
his father's death, I cannot dream of.

I entreat you...

...wring from him
the cause of his distemperance.

Spare no cost�our coffers shall be open.

We both obey, we both obey,
and lay our service at your feet.

We both obey, we both obey....

Good gentlemen....

Thanks, Rosenstern....

Thanks, Guildencrantz?

Rosencrantz.

Thanks, Gildenstern.

We both obey...

...and here give up ourselves�

And here give up ourselves to be commanded.

My good liege, I do think I have found
the very cause of Hamlet's�

Of Hamlet's?

Of Hamlet's lunacy.

Of Hamlet's lunacy?

That do I long to hear.

His father's death,
and our o'er hasty marriage....

My liege and madam,
to expostulate what majesty should be...

...what duty is, why day is day,
night is night, and time...

...were nothing but to waste night,
day and time.

Since brevity be the soul of wit...

...and tediousness the limbs and flourishes,
I will be brief.

More matter with less art.

Art? Art?

Madam, I use no art�no, no.

Your noble son is mad.

Mad?

That he is mad 'tis true, 'tis true, 'tis pity...

...and pity 'tis, 'tis true.

More matter, with less art....

And now remains that we find out
the cause of this effect.

Or rather say defect, for this
effect defective comes by cause.

Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.

How now, Ophelia.

Green girl, green girl....

This must be known.
Gather and surmise....

Oh, my lord...

...as I was sewing in my closet....

My lord�

By heaven, come, come�
I use no art, Madam.

Lord Hamlet,
ungartered and down-gyved...

...and with a look so piteous
as if he had been loosed from hell.

Beshrew my jealousy.
Perpend, perpend, surmise....

My lord, he held me hard.

Long stayed he so.

He raised a sigh so piteous and profound...

...as did seem...

...as it did seem to shatter all his bulk...

...and end his being.

This is the very ecstasy of love.

�The very ecstasy of love?
�The very ecstasy of love.

The very ecstasy of love.

The very ecstasy of love.

The very ecstasy of love.

Surmise, surmise.

Green girl, green girl.

"To the celestial and my soul's idol..."

"...the most beautified Ophelia."

"Beautified"? "Beautified"?

That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase�
but you shall hear:

"O dear Ophelia,
I am ill at these numbers..."

"...but that I love thee best,
O most best, believe it."

My lord, came this from Hamlet?

Good Madam, stay awhile.

"Doubt thou the stars are fire,
doubt that the sun doth move..."

"...doubt truth to be a liar,
but never doubt I love."

Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera....

Lord Hamlet is a prince out of thy star.
This must not be.

She, as my child, took my advice...

...repelled his letters, denied his access.

And he, thus crossed, fell into a sadness...

...then into a fast,
a watch, a weakness, a lightness...

...and into the madness wherein now he raves.

Never, never....

Do you think 'tis this?

It may be, very like.

Take this from this, if this be otherwise....

How should we�

Never....

How may we try it further?

I have sent for Hamlet hither.
I'll loose my daughter to him.

Be you and I behind an arras....

We will try it.

But look where sadly the poor wretch comes�

My too much changed son.

�Sweet Gertrude...leave us.
�My son.

I shall obey you.

We shall both obey.

Ophelia, walk you here�

Read on this book, and take up these
tokens that you received from him.

...or not to be.

...or not to be.

To be.

Ay, there's the point.

To die, to sleep�is that all?

Ay, all.

No! To sleep, to dream.

Ay, there it goes.

To sleep, to dream.

For in that dream of death,
when we're awaked...

...and borne before the Everlasting�

The undiscovered country,
from whose bourn no traveller ever returns.

But for this,
but for the joyful hope of this....

Oh, that the Everlasting
had not fixed His canon....

For who'd bear the scorns
and flattery of the world?

The taste of hunger, or a tyrant's reign?

And the spurns, the whips, the scorns,
the pangs of disprized love?

Who would this endure
but that the dread of something after death...

But for the joyful hope of this....

...makes us rather bear those evils we have
than fly to others we know not of?

Oh, thus conscience
makes cowards of us all...

But for the joyful hope of this....

...and enterprises of great pitch and moment.

Lady, in thy orisons,
be all my sins remembered.

Good my lord...

...I have remembrances of yours...

...that I have longed long to redeliver.

Not I. I never gave you aught.

My honored lord,
you know right well you did.

�Not I.
�And such earnest vows of love....

I never gave you aught.

Rich gifts wax poor
when givers prove unkind.

I did love you once.

I did love you once.

Indeed, my lord....

Ay, truly...I did love you once.

Indeed, my lord,
you made me believe you did.

You should not have believed me.

I loved you not.

I was the more deceived.

Get thee to a nunnery.

�To a nunnery, go.
�A nunnery?

Why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners?

A pox! 'Tis scurvy!
It hath made me mad!

Go! Go! Wise men know well enough
what monsters you make of them.

To a nunnery go, and quickly too.

�Heavenly powers...
�If thou dost marry...

�...you sweet heavens�
�...marry a fool.

How should I your true love know?

"Doubt thou the stars are fire,
doubt that the sun doth move..."

"...doubt truth to be a liar,
but never, never..."

"...never doubt I love."

�Where's your father?
�At home, my lord.

Let the doors be shut upon him.

Be thou as pure as snow,
thou shalt not escape calumny.

Get thee to a nunnery, to a nunnery go.

Go thy ways to a nunnery.

Heavenly powers.
O sweet heavens.

Get thee to a nunnery!

And I that sucked
the honey of his music'd vows...

...now see what noble reason,
like sweet bells jangled out of time....

Sweet bells jangled out of time and harsh...

...all dashed and splintered thence.

Never, never doubt I love....

Love? Love?

But yet I do believe...

There's something in his soul...

...'tis neglected love.

...and I do doubt the hatch.

I doubt the hatch will be some danger....

�My honored lord.
�My most dear lord.

My most dear honored lord.

Good lads�my excellent, good friends.

What have you deserved of fortune
that she sends you to prison hither?

Prison, my lord?

Denmark is a prison.

We think not so, my lord.
My lord, we think not so.

Why, then 'tis none to you.

For there is nothing either good or bad,
but thinking makes it so.

There is nothing either good or bad�

But thinking makes it so?

But what make you at Elsinore?

To visit you, my lord.
My lord, to visit you.

Come, come.
There is confession in your eyes.

Were you not sent for?

My lord, what should we say?

The good King and Queen
have sent for you. What say you?

What say you?

Nay, then I have an eye on you.

My lord, we were sent for.
Yes, we were sent for.

And I'll tell you why.

I have of late,
but wherefore I know not...

...lost...I have lost all my mirth.

Man delights not me.

Nor woman, neither.

Though by your smiling you seem to say so.

My lord, there was
no such stuff in my thoughts.

No, we laugh not at that.
No, not at that.

Why did ye laugh, then?

To think, my lord, what Lenten entertainment
the players shall receive from you.

Hither are they coming.

He that plays the king shall be welcome.

For my uncle is the King,
the King of Denmark�

A king of shreds and patches.

My lord, my lord, I have news to tell you.

My lord, I have news to tell you!

The actors come hither, my lord.

The best actors in the world�

For tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral.

Pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral,
tragical-historical, comical-pastoral.

Tragical-comical-historical-pastoral�

Look where my abridgment comes.

I did enact Julius Caesar in the university...

...and was accounted a good actor.

If thou didst ever thy dear father love�

Masters, you are welcome.

'Tis now the very witching time of night.

O what a noble mind is here o'erthrown.

Overthrown.

Blasted with ecstasy.

With ecstasy?
Blasted with ecstasy?

A pox on you.

Come, we'll have a speech straight.

A taste of your quality.

Yes, come, a passionate speech.
From your very best play.

To be or not to be....

�Ay, that is the question.
�Ay! There's the point.

Nay, there's the rub!

There's the rub�that's good.
I'faith, very good.

Fishmonger.

O that this too,
too sullied flesh would melt...

�...this too, too solid flesh....
�...this sullied flesh....

All is not well.

O woe is me to have seen what I have seen.

Something is rotten
in the state of Denmark.

Etiam....

Aliquid in civitate daniae corruptum est.

Adieu. Adieu.

Remember me.

Remember thee?

What is a man?

How noble in reason.

How infinite in faculties...

How like an angel...

...the beauty of the world.

...the paragon of animals!

The quintessence of dust.

Noble dust.

Returneth to dust.

That it should come to this!

That it should come to this!

Prithee no more, no more.

Masters, you are most welcome.
We'll hear a play anon.

Come, sirs.

...or not to be?

That it should come to what?

Dost hear me, old friend?

Can you play "The Murder of Gonzago"?

Ay, my lord.

You could for a need study a speech
which I would insert in it?

Go, make you ready.

The readiness is all.

Fie upon it!

Fie! Fie! About my brains.

Murder, though it hath no tongue, will speak.

Murder will speak.

I have heard that guilty creatures
sitting at a play...

...by the cunning of the scene
have confessed a murder�

�Proclaimed their malefactions.
�Their malefactions!

I'll have these players play something...

...like the murder of my father
before mine uncle.

Though it hath no tongue,
murder will speak.

Horatio! Even with the very
comment of thy soul, observe him.

Observe my uncle.

Observe his looks�

I'll tent him to the quick.
And if he do not bleach and change at that...

...it is a damned ghost that we have seen.

Murder will speak.

The play's the thing�

The play's the thing,
wherein we'll catch the conscience of the King.

Pastoral, comical, historical, tragical.

Tragical-historical, comical-pastoral-tragical.

Tragical-historical-comical-pastoral.

The play's the thing....

Be the players ready?

Ay, my lord, they stand at your patience.

For us and for our tragedy...

...here stooping to your clemency...

...we beg your hearing patiently.

Is this a prologue or the posy of a ring?

'Tis brief, my lord.

Ha! As woman's love.

Come hither my son�sit by me.

No, good mother...

...here's metal more attractive.

O ho! Do you mark that?

Shall I lie in your lap?

No, my lord.

Upon your lap....

Think you I mean country matters?

You are merry, my lord.

What do but be merry?

Look how cheerfully my mother looks�
and my father died within's two hours.

Madam, how like you this play?

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

Oh, but she'll keep her word.

Belike this show imparts
the argument of the play?

The players cannot keep counsel�
they'll tell all.

Have you heard the argument?

Is there no offense in it?

No offense in the world.

We that have free souls...

...it touches us not.

Poison in jest, my lord....

Poison in jest.

This is Lucianus...

...nephew to the King.

You are as good as a chorus, my lord.

I could interpret the love you bear
if I saw the poopies dallying.

Begin, murderer, begin.

A pox! A pox!

The croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.

He poisons him in the garden...

...for his estate.

'Tis the image of a murder done in Vienna.

Gonzago is the king's name, his wife Baptista.

It is a knavish piece of work,
Father, but what of that?

You and I that have free souls....

Wormwood.

Wormwood.

O-ho, the hobby-horse is forgot!

The King rises.

Light!

Give me some light! Away!

You shall see how the murderer...

Lights! Lights!

...how the murderer gets the love of his wife!

Murderer! The story is extant�
in very choice Italian....

Murderer!

Murderer!

Oh, didst perceive?

Very well, my lord.

Upon the talk of poisoning?

I did very well note him.

Oh, Horatio!

I'll take the ghost's word
for all the coin in Denmark!

Now could I drink hot blood...

...and do such bitter business
as the day would quake to look on.

From this point forth,
my thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth.

Oh, heavy burden.

My offense is rank.

It hath the primal eldest curse upon it.

This hand....

This cursed hand�

Thicker than itself with brother's blood?

Is there not rain enough
in the sweet heavens?

Rain enough to wash it white as snow?

Oh, what form of prayer can serve my turn?

May one be pardoned and retain the offense?

O wretched state.

My crown, my Queen...
my Queen, my crown.

Now, now, now sword come forth
and work thy last�

And thus he dies.

�And so am I revenged?
�O wretched state....

�A villain kills my father...
�O bosom black as death!

�...and shall I kill him now...
�Help, angels! Make assay!

�...when he is purging of his soul?
�Heart with strings of steel...

�Am I then revenged?
�...be soft as sinews of the newborn babe.

This hand....

And so am I revenged?

Thick with brother's blood....

And so am I revenged?

This cursed hand....

And so am I revenged?

Up, sword�when he's at game...

...drinking drunk or in the pleasure�

...in the incestuous pleasure of his bed.

Now, to my mother!

I will speak daggers to her.

As you said, 'tis meet that
some more audience should overhear....

I hear him coming.

I'll silence me even here.

How now, Mother, what's the matter?

Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.

O Mother, you have my father much offended.

Come, come...
you answer with an idle tongue.

You question with a wicked tongue.

Have you forgot me?

Nay, nay.
You are the Queen...

...your husband's brother's wife...

...and, would it were not so,
you are my mother.

Why, how now, Hamlet?

Come, sit down, you shall not budge.

What wilt thou do?

Come, sit.

What? Thou wilt not murder me?

Help! O help!

�How now? A rat.
�Thou wilt not murder me?

Dead for a ducat. Dead.

What hast thou done?

Nay, I know not.
Is it the King?

O thou wretched, rash, intruding fool.

My lord, I hold my duty...

...as I hold my soul.

Rash, intruding fool....

To thine own self be true.

Tragical.

Historical.

Pastoral.

Comical....

What hast thou done?

I took thee for thy better.

What hast thou done?

A bloody deed.

Almost as bad as kill a king
and marry with his brother.

As kill a king?

It was my word.

Peace, sit you down
and let me wring your heart...

...if damned custom have not brazed it�

What means't thou by these killing words?

What have I done? What have I done?

O shame, shame.

Where is thy blush?
Look here upon this picture.

Look, look here.
This was your husband�

Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself...

...where every god did seem to set his seal.

He is dead.

He is dead.

Murdered, damnably murdered.

Murdered? Murdered?

O shame, where is thy blush?

Look, look, look.
Here is your husband.

A face like Vulcan,
a look fit for a murder and a rape.

Have you eyes?

Could you this fair mountain leave
to feed and batten on this moor?

You cannot call it love.

Shame, shame, where is thy blush?

O Hamlet.

To live in the rank sweat of an enseamed bed.

Stewed in corruption�

Speak to me no more....

Making love....

Speak no more....

Making love over the nasty sty!

No more!

Save me!

Alas, my son.

Heavenly guards, save me!

Alas, alas, my son.

Do you not come your tardy son to chide?

Alas, he's mad.

Do not neglect
nor long time put it off.

Do not forget
thy almost blunted purpose.

Alas.

I do not know why yet I live.

Let not the royal bed of Denmark....

To say this thing's to do,
sith I have cause to do it.

Let not the royal bed be a couch...

...for luxury and damned incest.

Sith I have cause and will
and strength and means....

Horrible!

Alas, how is't with you,
that you do bend your eye on vacancy?

Whereon do you look?

On him...look!

To whom do you speak?

Do you see nothing there?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Yet all there is I see.

Do you not see my father?
Look. Look!

My father as he lived.

O Hamlet.

O Mother, for love of grace...

...confess yourself to heaven.

Thou hast cleft my heart in twain.

O throw away the worser part of it.

Do not spread the compost
on the weeds to make them ranker.

Nor let the bloat King tempt you...

...to his rank enseamed bed.

If words be made of breath
and breath of life...

...I have no life to breathe.

For this same lord I do repent.

I have no life to breathe.

This man shall set me packing.

Goodnight, Mother.
I'll lug the guts into the neighbor room.

Thou has cleft my heart...

...in twain.

Laertes shall be King.

Laertes King.

Save yourself, my lord.
Save yourself.

Attend! Where are my Switzers?

What noise is this?

Laertes King. He shall be King.

�Let them guard the doors.
�The doors are broke.

O you false Danish dogs.

Laertes King!

O thou, vile King.
Where is my father?

Dead.

But not by him.

I'll not be juggled with.
How came he dead?

Vows to the blackest devil,
I dare damnation.

To this point I stand.

�I'll be revenged.
�He shall be King.

Good Laertes, that I am guiltless
of your father's death...

And is most sensible in grief for it�

...yourself ere long shall witness.

He that hath slain your noble father
hath pursued my life.

Hamlet�he means Hamlet.

�Hamlet?
�He hath pursued my life....

But for this�but for the joyful hope of this.

How now, what noise is this?

But for this....

But for the joyful hope of this.

O heat, dry up my brains.

The joy....

My joy...

...for bonny sweet robin is all my joy.

If you your chaste treasure open...

...or if you lose your heart...

...I did love you once....

I loved you not.

Never, never...never doubt I love.

Never, never...never doubt I love.

I love thee best, believe it.

Woe, t'have seen what I have seen.

They bore him barefaced on the bier
and in his grave rained many a tear...

...and will he not come again, again?

No, never, never....

He is dead.

He is dead. Go to thy death-bed.

A pit of clay
for to be made....

O rose of May....

Tomorrow is Saint Valentine's day...

...all in the morn betime...

...and I a maid at your window...

...to be your valentine.

Then up he rose, and donned his clothes
and dupp'd the chamber door...

...let in the maid
that out a maid never departed more.

Do you see this, O God?

Quoth she: "Before you tumbled me,
you promised me, promised me to wed."

Quoth he: "So would I a done, by yonder sun..."

"...and thou hadst not come..."

"...not come in my bed. In my bed!"

And I�that sucked the honey...

...green girl, green girl.

My joy, my joy...thou shalt not escape.

My joy....

O woe, to have seen what I have seen.

�Sweet lady, what imports this song?
�O heavenly powers!

Do not. Do not.

Do not believe his vows!

By heaven, thy madness shall be paid!

�Do not believe his vows!
�Blasted, blasted with ecstasy!

Green girl. Green girl. Green girl!

Never, never, never....

Never, never, never....

Good night, ladies, good night.

Mad as the sea.

�Mad as the sea.
�Good night, ladies.

Sweet ladies, good night.

Mad as the sea, alas...

A father lost, a sister desperate.

To my sick soul...

...each toy seems prologue
to some great amiss.

Sweet Gertrude, leave us.

My lord, my lord....

Didst thou persuade revenge,
it could not move thus.

Laertes, will you be ruled by me?

You will not overrule me to a peace.

To thine own peace.

What would you do to show yourself
in deed your father's son?

Cut Hamlet's throat in the church.

No place indeed should murder sanctuarize.

That I shall live and tell him to his teeth:

"Thus diest thou."

Good Laertes, I will work him to an exploit...

...under the which he shall not choose but fall.

And for his death
no wind of blame shall breathe.

Even his mother shall call it accident.

And how for this?

Marry, Laertes, thus.

I have oft heard him wish, with all his heart...

...to be tasked to try your cunning�
your rapier most especial.

I'll lay a wager over your heads.

When you are hot in midst of all your play...

...among the foils shall a keen rapier lie...

...and in a pass of practice,
you may requite him for your father.

I will do it.

And for that purpose,
I'll anoint my sword with an unction so mortal...

...that but dip a knife in it
where it draws blood, it may be death.

And...

...I have it!

When you are in motion hot and dry...

I shall tell him to his teeth:

...and that he asks for drink...

"Thus diest thou."

...I'll have a potion that shall ready stand.

"Thus diest thou."

That shall be his period and our happiness.

O excellent.

That I shall live and tell him to his teeth:
"Thus diest thou!"

Sweet Gertrude....

There is a willow...

...grows askant the brook...

...that shows his hoary leaves.

There with fantastic garlands...

...there on pendant boughs...

...an envious sliver broke.

O Ophelia, I thought thy bride-bed
to have decked.

One woe doth tread upon another's heel.

When down her weedy trophies
and herself fell in the brook...

...her clothes spread wide,
heavy with their drink...

O God, sweet Ophelia.

...pulled from her melodious lay
to muddy death.

Your sister's drowned, Laertes.

"In youth when I did love, did love..."

"...methought 'twas very sweet:"

"To contract, oh, the time for a my behove..."

"...O methought there was nothing a meet."

Whose grave's this, sirrah?

Mine, sir, mine.

"Oh, a pit of clay for to be made."

I think it be thine indeed, for thou liest in it.

You lie out on it, sir, therefore 'tis not yours.

For my part, I do not lie in it, yet it is mine.

Thou dost lie in it, to be in it and say 'tis thine.

'Tis for the dead, not for the quick...

...therefore thou liest!

"A pickaxe and a spade, a spade..."

"...for and a shrouding sheet."

What man dost thou dig it for?

For no man, sir.

What woman then?

For none, neither.

Who is to be buried in it?

One that was a woman, sir.

But rest her soul, she's dead.

How absolute the knave is.

Oh, what a dunghill idiot slave am I�

Rogue. Peasant.

�A dull and muddy mettled rascal am I.
�What a rogue and peasant slave.

Tell me, how long will a man lie
in the earth ere he rot?

Faith, if he be not rotten before he die�

Here's a skull now...

...hath lien in the earth
these three and twenty years.

Whose was it?

A whoreson mad fellow it was.

Whose do you think it was?

Nay, I know not.

A pestilence on him for a mad rogue.

This same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull...

...the King's jester.

This?

Even that.

Alas, poor Yorick.

I knew him, Horatio.

He hath bore me
on his back a thousand times.

And now....

Here hung those lips that I kissed
I know not how oft.

Where be your gibes now,
your gambols, your songs?

Your flashes of merriment that were
wont to set the table on a roar?

Horatio, tell me one thing.

What's that, my lord?

"But age, with his stealing steps...."

Dost think Alexander looked
o' this fashion in the earth.

Even so.

And smelt so?

Even so, my lord.

O horrible!

Most horrible!

But soft awhile, here comes the King.
And who is this they follow?

And with such maimed rights?

What ceremony else?

Laertes�a very noble youth.

Lay her in the earth:
a minist'ring angel shall my sister be.

What, the fair Ophelia!

Thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife.

O treble woe, fall ten times treble
on that cursed head...

...whose wicked deed the most
ingenious sense deprived thee of.

Hold off the earth awhile.

Ophelia!

What is he whose grief
bears such an emphasis?

I have in me something dangerous
which let thy wiseness fear.

This is I, Hamlet the Dane.

The devil take thy soul!

Pluck them asunder.

I loved Ophelia.

Forty thousand brothers
with all their quantity of love...

...could not make up my sum.

What wilt thou do for her?

Woo't weep, woo't fight,
woo't fast, woo't tear thyself...

...drink Eisil, eat a crocodile? I'll do it.

Dost come here to whine?

To outface me with leaping in her grave?

I'll rant as well as thou.

Be buried quick with her and so will I.

For love of God, forbear him.

Anon, as patient as the female dove...

...his silence will sit drooping.

What is the reason that you use me thus?

For love of God, forbear him.

Anon, as patient as the dove....

I loved you ever, Laertes.

Anon...his silence will sit drooping.

But it is no matter.

For love of God....

Let Hercules himself do what he may.

The cat will mew,
and dog will have his day.

Sweet lord, sweet lord.

If your lordship were at leisure...

...we should impart a thing to you from His Majesty.

Foh! How the musk-cods smell!

I will receive it, sirs,
with all diligence of spirit.

My lord, here is newly come
to court Laertes...

...an absolute gentleman...

...full of most excellent differences
and great showing.

He is the card or calendar of gentry.

The concernancy, sirs?

Sir?

Why do we wrap the gentleman
in our more rawer breath?

What imports the nomination
of this gentleman?

The King, sir, hath laid, sir,
hath laid a wager on your head.

Six Barbary horses against six French rapiers,
with all their accoutrements too!

Three of the carriages
are very dear to fancy...

...most responsive to the hilts,
most delicate carriages..

...and of very liberal conceit.

Six Barbary horses 'gainst six French swords.

And three delicate carriages.

Of very liberal conceit.

�That's the French bet....
�'Gainst the Danish.

And how's the wager?

My lord, the King, sir, hath laid, sir,
that in a dozen passes...

...Laertes shall not exceed,
not exceed you three hits.

The King, sir, hath laid, sir,
hath laid on twelve for nine....

Six Barbary horses against six French swords.

�Six 'gainst six....
�Twelve for nine....

With all their accoutrements, too!

�No! Eleven!
�Six!

Sirs, let the foils be brought.

�We commend our duty to your lordship.
�Eleven, eleven!

You will lose, my lord.

I shall win at the odds.

Yet thou wouldst not think
how ill all's here about my heart.

It is no matter.

If your mind dislike anything, obey it.

It is but foolery.

I will forestall their repair
and say you are not fit.

Not a whit.

We defy augury.

There is special providence
in the fall of a sparrow.

If it be now, 'tis not to come...

...if it be not to come, it will be now...

...if be not now, yet it will come.

The rest is...

...the rest is....

The readiness is all.

Come, Hamlet,
come and take this hand from me.

Give me your pardon, sir.
I have done you wrong.

What I have done
I here proclaim was madness...

...therefore, let's be at peace.

I do receive your offered love like love.

But in my terms of honor, I stand aloof.

Give them the foils.
Rosencrantz. Guildenstern.

The foils, my lord.

Come, one for me.

I'll be your foil, Laertes.

In my ignorance, your skill...

...shall, like a star in the darkest night�

�You mock me, sir.
�No, by this hand.

Cousin Hamlet, you know the wager?

And the King, sir, hath laid, sir�

Hath laid on twelve for nine.
Nine for six.

Yes, very well, my lord.

This is too heavy.
Show me another.

These foils all have a length?

Ay, my good lord.

Set me stoups of wine upon the table.

If Hamlet give the first or second hit�

Let all the battlements their ordnance fire...

...the cannons to the heavens�

The heavens to earth.

"Now the King drinks to Hamlet."

Come, begin.
And you judges, bear a wary eye.

Be not too tame.

Begin!

"The first of the chiefest lessons to remember..."

"...is to frame thyself into thy guard..."

"...before thou come within thy enemy's distance..."

"...and so to approach in-guarded."

�One! �No! �Judgment!

A hit, a very palpable hit.

Stay, give me a drink.

Hamlet, this pearl is thine�

Richer than that which four successive kings
in Denmark's crown have worn.

Here's to thy health.
Give him the cup.

I'll play this bout first.
I'll drink anon.

Come, come again.

"Secondly, if thy enemy charge thee with a thrust...."

Suit the action to the word...
the word to the action....

Another hit. What say you?

A touch, a touch. I do confess it.

A hit, a hit, a very palpable hit.

Our son will win.

He's faint and scant of breath.

Here's a napkin, rub thy brow.

The Queen carouses to thy fortune.

Gertrude!

Gertrude, do not drink!

I will, my lord.
I pray you pardon me.

'Tis too late.

I dare not drink yet, Madam.

By and by....

Come Laertes, you do but dally.

Hah! Say you so?
Come, come on.

Do not saw the air with your hand thus�

Have at you now!

Part them. They are incensed.

Overstep not the modesty of nature
in the torrent, tempest...

...whirlwind of your passion.

Look to the Queen!

They bleed on both sides.

�How is it, my lord?
�How does the Queen?

She swoons to see them bleed.

No, no, the drink, the drink!

O dear Hamlet!

The drink!

Let the doors be locked.

O villainy! O treachery!

Seek it out.

It is here.
Hamlet, thou art slain.

The treacherous instrument is in thy hand...

...unbated, envenomed.

Thy mother's poisoned.

That drink was made for thee!

I can no more.

The King's...

...the King's to blame.

The point envenomed too!
Then, venom, to thy work.

Die, damned villains.

O yet defend me, friends.

O, treason!

Thou murderous Dane.

The King!

Drink off this potion.

The King's to blame!

Follow my mother.

The King's to blame!

Die, thou incestuous, murderous Dane.

Wretched Queen, adieu.

Had I but time...

...but let it be.

Exchange forgiveness, Hamlet.

My death come not upon thee...

...nor thine on me.

Heaven makes thee free of it.

O good Horatio...

...if thou didst ever hold me in thy heart�

My lord, in my heart.

Absent thee from felicity awhile...

...and in this harsh world...

...draw thy breath in pain to tell my story...

...trippingly on the tongue.

I die, Horatio. I die.

The potent poison quite o'ercrows my spirit.

There's a divinity,
a divinity that shapes our ends.

Rough-hew them how we will.

O my dear, dear lord...

...now cracks a noble heart.

Good night, sweet prince...

�...and flights of angels...
�The rest is...

...sing thee to thy rest.

...the rest is silence.