Hamlet, Prince of Denmark
Gertrude,
queen of Denmark, becoming a widow by the sudden death of King Hamlet, in less
than two months after his death married his brother Claudius, which was noted
by all people at the time for a strange act of indiscretion, or unfeelingness,
or worse: for this Claudius did no ways resemble her late husband in the
qualities of his person or his mind, but was as contemptible in outward
appearance, as he was base and unworthy in disposition; and suspicions did not
fail to arise in the minds of some, that he had privately made away with his
brother, the late king, with the view of marrying his widow, and ascending the
throne of Denmark, to the exclusion of young Hamlet, the son of the buried
king, and lawful successor to the throne.
But upon no
one did this unadvised action of the queen make such impression as upon this
young prince, who loved and venerated the memory of his dead father almost to
idolatry, and being of a nice sense of honour, and a most exquisite practiser
of propriety himself, did sorely take to heart this unworthy conduct of his
mother Gertrude: insomuch that, between grief for his father's death and shame
for his mother's marriage, this young prince was overclouded with a deep
melancholy, and lost all his mirth and all his good looks; all his customary
pleasure in books forsook him, his princely exercises and sports, proper to his
youth, were no longer acceptable; he grew weary of the world, which seemed to
him an unweeded garden, where all the wholesome flowers were choked up, and
nothing but weeds could thrive. Not that the prospect of exclusion from the
throne, his lawful inheritance, weighed so much upon his spirits, though that
to a young and high-minded prince was a bitter wound and a sore indignity; but
what so galled him, and took away all his cheerful spirits, was, that his
mother had shown herself so forgetful to his father's memory; and such a
father! who had been to her so loving and so gentle a husband! and then she
always appeared as loving and obedient a wife to him, and would hang upon him
as if her affection grew to him: and now within two months, or as it seemed to
young Hamlet, less than two months, she had married again, married his uncle,
her dear husband's brother, in itself a highly improper and unlawful marriage,
from the nearness of relationship, but made much more so by the indecent haste
with which it was concluded, and the unkingly character of the man whom she had
chosen to be the partner of her throne and bed. This it was, which more than
the loss of ten kingdoms, dashed the spirits and brought a cloud over the mind
of this honourable young prince.
In vain was
all that his mother Gertrude or the king could do to contrive to divert him; he
still appeared in court in a suit of deep black, as mourning for the king his
father's death, which mode of dress he had never laid aside, not even in
compliment to his mother upon the day she was married, nor could he be brought
to join in any of the festivities or rejoicings of that (as appeared to him)
disgraceful day.
What mostly
troubled him was an uncertainty about the manner of his father's death. It was
given out by Claudius that a serpent had stung him; but young Hamlet had shrewd
suspicions that Claudius himself was the serpent; in plain English, that he had
murdered him for his crown, and that the serpent who stung his father did now
sit on the throne.
How far he
was right in this conjecture, and what he ought to think of his mother, how far
she was privy to this murder, and whether by her consent or knowledge, or
without, it came to pass, were the doubts which continually harassed and
distracted him.
A rumour had
reached the ear of young Hamlet, that an apparition, exactly resembling the
dead king his father, had been seen by the soldiers upon watch, on the platform
before the palace at midnight, for two or three nights successively. The figure
came constantly clad in the same suit of armour, from head to foot, which the
dead king was known to have worn: and they who saw it (Hamlet's bosom friend
Horatio was one) agreed in their testimony as to the time and manner of its
appearance: that it came just as the clock struck twelve; that it looked pale,
with a face more of sorrow than of anger; that its beard was grisly, and the
colour a sable silvered, as they had seen it in his lifetime:
that it made no answer when they spoke to it; yet once they thought it lifted
up its head, and addressed itself to motion, as if it were about to speak; but
in that moment the morning cock crew, and it shrunk in haste away, and vanished
out of their sight.
The young
prince, strangely amazed at their relation, which was too consistent and
agreeing with itself to disbelieve, concluded that it was his father's ghost
which they had seen, and determined to take his watch with the soldiers that
night, that he might have a chance of seeing it; for he reasoned with himself,
that such an appearance did not come for nothing, but that the ghost had
something to impart, and though it had been silent hitherto, yet it would speak
to him. And he waited with impatience for the coming of night.
When night
came he took his stand with Horatio, and Marcellus, one of the guard, upon the
platform, where this apparition was accustomed to walk: and it being a cold
night, and the air unusually raw and nipping, Hamlet and Horatio and their
companion fell into some talk about the coldness of the night, which was
suddenly broken off by Horatio announcing that the ghost was coming.
At the sight
of his father's spirit, Hamlet was struck with a sudden surprise and fear. He
at first called upon the angels and heavenly ministers to defend them, for he
knew not whether it were a good spirit or bad; whether it came for good or
evil: but he gradually assumed more courage; and his father (as it seemed to
him) looked upon him so piteously, and as it were desiring to have conversation
with him, and did in all respects appear so like himself as he was when he
lived, that Hamlet could not help addressing him: he called him by his name,
Hamlet, King, Father! and conjured him that he would tell the reason why he had
left his grave, where they had seen him quietly bestowed, to come again and
visit the earth and the moonlight: and besought him that he would let them know
if there was anything which they could do to give peace to his spirit. And the
ghost beckoned to Hamlet, that he should go with him to some more removed
place, where they might be alone; and Horatio and Marcellus would have
dissuaded the young prince from following it, for they feared lest it should be
some evil spirit, who would tempt him to the neighbouring sea, or to the top of
some dreadful cliff, and there put on some horrible shape which might deprive
the prince of his reason. But their counsels and entreaties could not alter
Hamlet's determination, who cared too little about life to fear the losing of
it; and as to his soul, he said, what could the spirit do to that, being a
thing immortal as itself? And he felt as hardy as a lion, and bursting from
them, who did all they could to hold him, he followed whithersoever the spirit
led him.
And when they
were alone together, the spirit broke silence, and told him that he was the
ghost of Hamlet, his father, who had been cruelly murdered, and he told the
manner of it; that it was done by his own brother Claudius, Hamlet's uncle, as
Hamlet had already but too much suspected, for the hope of succeeding to his
bed and crown. That as he was sleeping in his garden, his custom always in the
afternoon, his treasonous brother stole upon him in his sleep, and poured the
juice of poisonous henbane into his ears, which has such an antipathy to the
life of man, that swift as quicksilver it courses through all the veins of the
body, baking up the blood, and spreading a crustlike leprosy all over the skin:
thus sleeping, by a brother's hand he was cut off at once from his crown, his
queen, and his life: and he adjured Hamlet, if he did ever his dear father
love, that he would revenge his foul murder. And the ghost lamented to his son,
that his mother should so fall off from virtue, as to prove false to the wedded
love of her first husband, and to marry his murderer; but he cautioned Hamlet,
howsoever he proceeded in his revenge against his wicked uncle, by no means to
act any violence against the person of his mother, but to leave her to heaven,
and to the stings and thorns of conscience. And Hamlet promised to observe the
ghost's direction in all things, and the ghost vanished.
And when
Hamlet was left alone, he took up a solemn resolution, that all he had in his
memory, all that he had ever learned by books or observation, should be
instantly forgotten by him, and nothing live in his brain but the memory of
what the ghost had told him, and enjoined him to do. And Hamlet related the
particulars of the conversation which had passed to none but his dear friend
Horatio; and he enjoined both to him and Marcellus the strictest secrecy as to
what they had seen that night.
The terror
which the sight of the ghost had left upon the senses of Hamlet, he being weak
and dispirited before, almost unhinged his mind, and drove him beside his
reason. And he, fearing that it would continue to have this effect, which might
subject him to observation, and set his uncle upon his guard, if he suspected
that he was meditating anything against him, or that Hamlet really knew more of
his father's death than he professed, took up a strange resolution, from that
time to counterfeit as if he were really and truly mad; thinking that he would
be less an object of suspicion when his uncle should believe him incapable of
any serious project, and that this real perturbation of mind would be best
covered and pass concealed under a disguise of pretended lunacy.
From this
time Hamlet affected a certain wildness and strangeness in his apparel, his
speech, and behaviour, and did so excellently counterfeit the madman, that the
king and queen were both deceived, and not thinking his grief for his father's
death a sufficient cause to produce such a distemper, for they knew not of the
appearance of the ghost, they concluded that his malady was love, and they
thought they had found out the object.
Before Hamlet
fell into the melancholy way which has been related, he had dearly loved a fair
maid called Ophelia, the daughter of Polonius, the king's chief counsellor in
affairs of state. He had sent her letters and rings, and made many tenders of
his affection to her, and importuned her with love in honourable fashion: and
she had given belief to his vows and importunities. But the melancholy which he
fell into latterly had made him neglect her, and from the time he conceived the
project of counterfeiting madness, he affected to treat her with unkindness,
and a sort of rudeness: but she good lady, rather than reproach him with being
false to her, persuaded herself that it was nothing but the disease in his
mind, and no settled unkindness, which had made him less observant of her than
formerly; and she compared the faculties of his once noble mind and excellent
understanding, impaired as they were with the deep melancholy that oppressed
him, to sweet bells which in themselves are capable of most exquisite music,
but when jangled out of tune, or rudely handled, produce only a harsh and
unpleasing sound.
Though the
rough business which Hamlet had in hand, the revenging of his father's death
upon his murderer, did not suit with the playful state of courtship, or admit
of the society of so idle a passion as love now seemed to him, yet it could not
hinder but that soft thoughts of his Ophelia would come between, and in one of
these moments, when he thought that his treatment of this gentle lady had been
unreasonably harsh, he wrote her a letter full of wild starts of passion, and
in extravagant terms, such as agreed with his supposed madness, but mixed with
some gentle touches of affection, which could not but show to this honoured
lady that a deep love for her yet lay at the bottom of his heart. He bade her
to doubt the stars were fire, and to doubt that the sun did move, to doubt
truth to be a liar, but never to doubt that he loved; with more of such extravagant
phrases. This letter Ophelia dutifully showed to her father, and the old man
thought himself bound to communicate it to the king and queen, who from that
time supposed that the true cause of Hamlet's madness was love. And the queen
wished that the good beauties of Ophelia might be the happy cause of his
wildness, for so she hoped that her virtues might happily restore him to his
accustomed way again, to both their honours.
But Hamlet's
malady lay deeper than she supposed, or than could be so cured. His father's
ghost, which he had seen, still haunted his imagination, and the sacred
injunction to revenge his murder gave him no rest till it was accomplished.
Every hour of delay seemed to him a sin, and a violation of his father's
commands. Yet how to compass the death of the king, surrounded as he constantly
was with his guards, was no easy matter. Or if it had been, the presence of the
queens Hamlet's mother, who was generally with the king, was a restraint upon
his purpose, which he could not break through. Besides, the very circumstance
that the usurper was his mother's husband filled him with some remorse, and
still blunted the edge of his purpose. The mere act of putting a
fellow-creature to death was in itself odious and terrible to a disposition naturally
so gentle as Hamlet's was. His very melancholy, and the dejection of spirits he
had so long been in, produced an irresoluteness and wavering of purpose, which
kept him from proceeding to extremities. Moreover, he could not help having
some scruples upon his mind, whether the spirit which he had seen was indeed
his father, or whether it might not be the devil, who he had heard has power to
take any form he pleases, and who might have assumed his father's shape only to
take advantage of his weakness and his melancholy, to drive him to the doing of
so desperate an act as murder. And he determined that he would have more
certain grounds to go upon than a vision, or apparition, which might be a
delusion.
While he was
in this irresolute mind there came to the court certain players, in whom Hamlet
formerly used to take delight, and particularly to hear one of them speak a
tragical speech, describing the death of old Priam, King of Troy, with the
grief of Hecuba his queen. Hamlet welcomed his old friends, the players, and
remembering how that speech had formerly given him pleasure, requested the
player to repeat it; which he did in so lively a manner, setting forth the
cruel murder of the feeble old king, with the destruction of his people and
city by fire, and the mad grief of the old queen, running barefoot up and down
the palace, with a poor clout upon that head where a crown had been, and with
nothing but a blanket upon her loins, snatched up in haste, where she had worn
a royal robe; that not only it drew tears from all that stood by, who thought
they saw the real scene, so lively was it represented, but even the player
himself delivered it with a broken voice and real tears. This put Hamlet upon
thinking, if that player could so work himself up to passion by a mere
fictitious speech, to weep for one that he had never seen, for Hecuba, that had
been dead so many hundred years, how dull was he, who having a real motive and
cue for passion, a real king and a dear father murdered, was yet so little
moved, that his revenge all this while had seemed to have slept in dull and
muddy forgetfulness! and while he meditated on actors and acting, and the
powerful effects which a good play, represented to the life, has upon the
spectator, he remembered the instance of some murderer, who seeing a murder on
the stage, was by the mere force of the scene and resemblance of circumstances
so affected, that on the spot he confessed the crime which he had committed.
And he determined that these players should play something like the murder of
his father before his uncle, and he would watch narrowly what effect it might
have upon him, and from his looks he would be able to gather with more
certainty if he were the murderer or not. To this effect he ordered a play to
be prepared, to the representation of which he invited the king and queen.
The story of
the play was of a murder done in Vienna upon a duke. The duke's name was
Gonzago, his wife Baptista. The play showed how one Lucianus, a near relation
to the duke, poisoned him in his garden for his estate, and how the murderer in
a short time after got the love of Gonzago's wife.
At the
representation of this play, the king, who did not know the trap which was laid
for him, was present, with his queen and the whole court: Hamlet sitting
attentively near him to observe his looks. The play began with a conversation
between Gonzago and his wife, in which the lady made many protestations of
love, and of never marrying a second husband, if she should outlive Gonzago;
wishing she might be accursed if she ever took a second husband, and adding
that no woman did so, but those wicked women who kill their first husbands.
Hamlet observed the king his uncle change colour at this expression, and that
it was as bad as wormwood both to him and to the queen. But when Lucianus,
-according to the story, came to poison Gonzago sleeping in the garden, the
strong resemblance which it bore to his own wicked act upon the late king, his
brother, whom he had poisoned in his garden, so struck upon the conscience of
this usurper, that he was unable to sit out the rest of the play, but on a
sudden calling for lights to his chamber, and affecting or partly feeling a
sudden sickness, he abruptly left the theatre. The king being departed, the
play was given over. Now Hamlet had seen enough to be satisfied that the words
of the ghost were true, and no illusion; and in a fit of gaiety, like that
which comes over a man who suddenly has some great doubt or scruple resolved,
he swore to Horatio, that he would take the ghost's word for a thousand pounds.
But before he could make up his resolution as to what measures of revenge he
should take, now he was certainly informed that his uncle was his father's
murderer, he was sent for by the queen his mother, to a private conference in
her closet.
It was by
desire of the king that the queen sent for Hamlet, that she might signify to
her son how much his late behaviour had displeased them both, and the king,
wishing to know all that passed at that conference, and thinking that the too
partial report of a mother might let slip some part of Hamlet's words, which it
might much import the king to know, Polonius, the old counsellor of state, was
ordered to plant himself behind the hangings in the queen's closet, where he
might unseen hear all that passed. This artifice was particularly adapted to
the disposition of Polonius, who was a man grown old in crooked maxims and
policies of state, and delighted to get at the knowledge of matters in an
indirect and cunning way.
Hamlet being
come to his mother, she began to tax him in the roundest way with his actions
and behaviour, and she told him that he had given great offence to his
father, meaning the king, his uncle, whom, because he had married her,
she called Hamlet's father. Hamlet, sorely indignant that she should give so
dear and honoured a name as father seemed to him, to a wretch who was indeed no
better than the murderer of his true father, with some sharpness replied:
'Mother, youhave much offended my father.' The
queen said that was but an idle answer. 'As good as the question deserved,'
said Hamlet. The queen asked him if he had forgotten who it was he was speaking
to? 'Alas!' replied Hamlet, 'I wish I could forget. You are the queen, your
husband's brother's wife; and you are my mother: I wish you were not what you
are.' 'Nay; then,' said the queen, 'if you show me so little respect, I will
set those to you that can speak,' and was going to send the king or Polonius to
him. But Hamlet would not let her go, now he had her alone, till he had tried
if his words could not bring her to some sense of her wicked life; and, taking
her by the wrist, he held her fast, and made her sit down. She, affrighted at
his earnest manner, and fearful lest in his lunacy he should do her a mischief,
cried out; and a voice was heard from behind the hangings: 'Help, help, the
queen!' Which Hamlet hearing, and verily thinking that it was the king himself
there concealed, he drew his sword and stabbed at the place where the voice
came from, as he would have stabbed a rat that ran there, till the voice
ceasing, he concluded the person to be dead. But when he dragged for the body,
it was not the king, but Polonius, the old officious counsellor, that had
planted himself as a spy behind the hangings. 'Oh me!' exclaimed the queen,
'what a rash and bloody deed have you done!' 'A bloody deed, mother,' replied
Hamlet, 'but not so bad as yours, who killed a king, and married his brother.'
Hamlet had gone too far to leave off here. He was now in the humour to speak
plainly to his mother, and he pursued it. And though the faults of parents are
to be tenderly treated by their children, yet in the case of great crimes the
son may have leave to speak even to his own mother with some harshness, so as
that harshness is meant for her good, and to turn her from her wicked ways, and
not done for the purpose of upbraiding. And now this virtuous prince did in
moving terms represent to the queen the heinousness of her offence, in being so
forgetful of the dead king, his father, as in so short a space of time to marry
with his brother and reputed murderer: such an act as, after the vows which she
had sworn to her first husband, was enough to make all vows of women suspected,
and all virtue to be accounted hypocrisy, wedding contracts to be less than
gamesters' oaths, and religion to be a mockery and a mere form of words. He
said she had done such a deed, that the heavens blushed at it, and the earth
was sick of her because of it. And he showed her two pictures, the one of the
late king, her first husband, and the other of the present king, her second
husband, and he bade her mark the difference; what a grace was on the brow of
his father, how like a god he looked! the curls of Apollo, the forehead of
Jupiter, the eye of Mars, and a posture like to Mercury newly alighted on some
heaven-kissing hill! this man, he said, had beenher husband. And
then he showed her whom she had got in his stead: how like a blight or a mildew
he looked, for so he had blasted his wholesome brother. And the queen was sore
ashamed that he should so turn her eyes inward upon her soul, which she now saw
so black and deformed. And he asked her how she could continue to live with
this man, and be a wife to him, who had murdered her first husband, and got the
crown by as false means as a thief - and just as he spoke, the ghost of his
father, such as he was in his lifetime, and such as he had lately seen it,
entered the room, and Hamlet, in great terror, asked what it would have; and
the ghost said that it came to remind him of the revenge he had promised, which
Hamlet seemed to have forgot; and the ghost bade him speak to his mother, for
the grief and terror she was in would else kill her. It then vanished, and was
seen by none but Hamlet, neither, could he by pointing to where it stood, or by
any description, make his mother perceive it; who was terribly frightened all
this while to hear him conversing, as it seemed to her, with nothing; and she
imputed it to the disorder of his mind. But Hamlet begged her not to flatter her
wicked soul in such a manner as to think that it was his madness, and not her
own offences, which had brought his father's spirit again on the earth. And he
bade her feel his pulse, how temperately it beat, not like a madman's. And he
begged of her with tears, to confess herself to heaven for what was past, and
for the future to avoid the company of the king, and be no more as a wife
to him: and when she should show herself a mother to him, by
respecting his father's memory, he would ask a blessing of her as a son. And
she promising to observe his directions the conference ended.
And now
Hamlet was at leisure to consider who it was that in his
unfortunate rashness he had killed: and when he came to see that it was
Polonius, the father of the lady Ophelia, whom he so dearly loved, he drew
apart the dead body, and, his spirits being now a little quieter, he wept for
what he had done.
The
unfortunate death of Polonius gave the king a pretence for sending Hamlet out
of the kingdom. He would willingly have put him to death, fearing him as
dangerous; but he dreaded the people, who loved Hamlet, and the queen who, with
all her faults, doted upon the prince, her son. So this subtle king, under
pretence of providing for Hamlet's safety, that he might not be called to account
for Polonius' death, caused him to be conveyed on board a ship bound for
England, under the care of two courtiers, by whom he despatched letters to the
English court, which in that time was in subjection and paid tribute to
Denmark, requiring for special reasons there pretended, that Hamlet should be
put to death as soon as he landed on English ground. Hamlet, suspecting some
treachery, in the night-time secretly got at the letters, and skilfully erasing
his own name, he in the stead of it put in the names of those two courtiers,
who had the charge of him, to be put to death: then sealing up the letters, he
put them into their place again. Soon after the ship was attacked by pirates,
and a sea-fight commenced; in the course of which Hamlet, desirous to show his
valour, with sword in hand singly boarded the enemy's vessel; while his own
ship, in a cowardly manner, bore away, and leaving him to his fate, the two
courtiers made the best of their way to England, charged with those letters the
sense of which Hamlet had altered to their own deserved destruction.
The pirates,
who had the prince in their power, showed themselves gentle enemies; and
knowing whom they had got prisoner, in the hope that the prince might do them a
good turn at court in recompense for any favour they might show him, they set
Hamlet on shore at the nearest port in Denmark. From that place Hamlet wrote to
the king, acquainting him with the strange chance which had brought him back to
his own country, and saying -that on the next day he should present himself
before his majesty. When he got home, a sad spectacle offered itself the first
thing to his eyes.
This was the
funeral of the young and beautiful Ophelia, his once dear mistress. The wits of
this young lady had begun to turn ever since her poor father's death. That he
should die a violent death, and by the hands of the prince whom she loved, so
affected this tender young maid, that in a little time she grew perfectly
distracted, and would go about giving flowers away to the ladies of the court,
and saying that they were for her father's burial, singing songs about love and
about death, and sometimes such as had no meaning at all, as if she had no
memory of what happened to her. There was a willow which grew slanting over a
brook, and reflected its leaves on the stream. To this brook she came one day
when she was unmatched, with garlands she had been making, mixed up of daisies
and nettles, flowers and weeds together, and clambering up to hang her garland
upon the boughs of the willow, a bough broke, and precipitated this fair young
maid, garland, and all that she had gathered, into the water, where her clothes
bore her up for a while, during which she chanted scraps of old tunes, like one
insensible to her own distress, or as if she were a creature natural to that
element: but long it was not before her garments, heavy with the wet, pulled
her in from her melodious singing to a muddy and miserable death. It was the
funeral of this fair maid which her brother Laertes was celebrating, the king
and queen and whole court being present, when Hamlet arrived. He knew not what
all this show imported, but stood on one side, not inclining to interrupt the
ceremony. He saw the flowers strewed upon her grave, as the custom was in
maiden burials, which the queen herself threw in; and as she threw them she
said: 'Sweets to the sweet! I thought to have decked thy bride-bed, sweet maid,
not to have strewed thy grave. Thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife.' And
he heard her brother wish that violets might spring from her grave: and he saw
him leap into the grave all frantic with grief, and bid the attendants pile
mountains of earth upon him, that he might be buried with her. And Hamlet's
love for this fair maid came back to him, and he could not bear that a brother
should show so much transport of grief, for he thought that he loved Ophelia
better than forty thousand brothers. Then discovering himself, he leaped into
the grave where Laertes was, all as frantic or more frantic than he, and
Laertes knowing him to be Hamlet, who had been the cause of his father's and
his sister's death, grappled him by the throat as an enemy, till the attendants
parted them: and Hamlet, after the funeral, excused his hasty act in throwing
himself into the grave as if to brave Laertes but he said he could not bear
that any one should seem to outgo him in grief for the death of the fair
Ophelia. And for the time these two noble youths seemed reconciled.
But out of
the grief and anger of Laertes for the death of his father and Ophelia, the
king, Hamlet's wicked uncle, contrived destruction for Hamlet. He set on
Laertes, under cover of peace and reconciliation, to challenge Hamlet to a
friendly trial of skill at fencing, which Hamlet accepting, a day was appointed
to try the match. At this match all the court was present, and Laertes, by
direction of the king, prepared a poisoned weapon. Upon this match great wagers
were laid by the courtiers, as both Hamlet and Laertes were known to excel at
this sword play; and Hamlet taking up the foils chose one, not at all
suspecting the treachery of Laertes, or being careful to examine Laertes'
weapon, who, instead of a foil or blunted sword, which the laws of fencing
require, made use of one with a point, and poisoned. At first Laertes did but
play with Hamlet, and suffered him to gain some advantages, which the
dissembling king magnified and extolled beyond measure, drinking to Hamlet's
success, and wagering rich bets upon the issue: but after a few passes, Laertes
growing warm made a deadly thrust at Hamlet with his poisoned weapon, and gave
him a mortal blow. Hamlet incensed, but not knowing the whole of the treachery,
in the scuffle exchanged his own innocent weapon for Laertes' deadly one, and
with a thrust of Laertes' own sword repaid Laertes home, who was thus justly
caught in his own treachery. In this instant the queen shrieked out that she
was poisoned. She had inadvertently drunk out of a bowl which the king had
prepared for Hamlet, in case, that being warm in fencing, he should call for
drink: into this the treacherous king had infused a deadly poison, to make sure
of Hamlet, if Laertes had failed. He had forgotten to warn the queen of the
bowl, which she drank of, and immediately died, exclaiming with her last breath
that she was poisoned. Hamlet, suspecting some treachery, ordered the doors to
be shut, while he sought it out. Laertes told him to seek no farther, for he
was the traitor; and feeling his life go away with the wound which Hamlet had
given him, he made confession of the treachery he had used, and now he had
fallen a victim to it: and he told Hamlet of the envenomed point, and said that
Hamlet had not half an hour to live, for no medicine could cure him; and
begging forgiveness of Hamlet, he died, with his last words accusing the king
of being the contriver of the mischief. When Hamlet saw his end draw near,
there being yet some venom left upon the sword, he suddenly turned upon his
false uncle, and thrust the point of it to his heart, fulfilling the promise
which he had made to his father's spirit, whose injunction was now
accomplished, and his foul murder revenged upon the murderer. Then Hamlet,
feeling his breath fail and life departing, turned to his dear friend Horatio,
who had been spectator of this fatal tragedy; and with his dying breath
requested him that he would live to tell his story to the world (for Horatio
had made a motion as if he would slay himself to accompany the prince in
death), and Horatio promised that he would make a true report, as one that was
privy to all the circumstances. And, thus satisfied, the noble heart of Hamlet
cracked; and Horatio and the bystanders with many tears commended the spirit of
this sweet prince to the guardianship of angels. For Hamlet was a loving and a
gentle prince, and greatly beloved for his many noble and princelike qualities;
and if he had lived, would no doubt have proved a most royal and complete king
to Denmark.
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