• 金沙娱东城官方

    HAMLET

    A monologue from the play by William Shakespeare


    GHOST: I am thy father's spirit,
    Doomed for a certain term to walk the night,
    And for the day confined to fast in fires,
    Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
    Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid
    To tell the secrets of my prison house,
    I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
    Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
    Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres,
    Thy knotted and combinèd locks to part,
    And each particular hair to stand an end
    Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.
    But this eternal blazon must not be
    To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!
    If thou didst ever thy dear father love,
    Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.
    'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,
    A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark
    Is by a forgèd process of my death
    Rankly abused. But know, thou noble youth,
    The serpent that did sting thy father's life
    Now wears his crown. Thy uncle,
    Ay, that incestuous, that adulterous beast,
    With witchcraft of his wit, with traiterous gifts--
    O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power
    So to seduce! -- won to his shameful lust
    The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen.
    O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there,
    From me, whose love was of that dignity
    That it went hand in hand even with the vow
    I made to her in marriage, and to decline
    Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor
    To those of mine!
    But virtue, as it never will be moved,
    Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven,
    So lust, though to a radiant angel linked,
    Will sate itself in a celestial bed
    And prey on garbage.
    But soft, methinks I scent the morning air.
    Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard,
    My custom always of the afternoon,
    Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole
    With juice of cursed hebona in a vial,
    And in the porches of my ears did pour
    The leperous distilment, whose effect
    Holds such an enmity with blood of man
    That swift as quicksilver it courses through
    The natural gates and alleys of the body,
    And with a sudden vigor it doth posset
    And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
    The thin and wholesome blood. So did it mine,
    And a most instant tetter barked about
    Most lazar-like with vile and loathsome crust
    All my smooth body.
    Thus was I sleeping by a brother's hand
    Of life, of crown, of queen at once dispatched,
    Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
    Unhouseled, disappointed, unaneled,
    No reck'ning made, but sent to my account
    With all my imperfections on my head.
    O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
    If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not.
    Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
    A couch for luxury and damnèd incest.
    But howsomever thou pursues this act,
    Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
    Against thy mother aught. Leave her to heaven
    And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge
    To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once.
    The glowworm shows the matin to be near
    And gins to pale his uneffectual fire.
    Adieu, adieu, adieu. Remember me.

    BROWSE MORE MONOLOGUES BY PLAYWRIGHT

    金沙娱东城官方