William Shakespeare - Sämtliche Werke von Shakespeare in einem Band - Zweisprachige Ausgabe (Deutsch-Englisch)

Till the last trumpet; for charitable prayers,

Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her,

Yet here she is allowed her virgin rites,

Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home

Of bell and burial.

LAER.

Must there no more be done?

1 PRIEST.

No more be done;

We should profane the service of the dead

To sing a requiem and such rest to her

As to peace-parted souls.

LAER.

Lay her i’ the earth;—

And from her fair and unpolluted flesh

May violets spring!—I tell thee, churlish priest,

A ministering angel shall my sister be

When thou liest howling.

HAM.

What, the fair Ophelia?

QUEEN.

Sweets to the sweet: farewell.

[Scattering flowers.]

I hop’d thou shouldst have been my Hamlet’s wife;

I thought thy bride-bed to have deck’d, sweet maid,

And not have strew’d thy grave.

LAER.

O, treble woe

Fall ten times treble on that cursed head

Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense

Depriv’d thee of!—Hold off the earth awhile,

Till I have caught her once more in mine arms:

[Leaps into the grave.]

Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead,

Till of this flat a mountain you have made,

To o’ertop old Pelion or the skyish head

Of blue Olympus.

HAM.

[Advancing.]

What is he whose grief

Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow

Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand

Like wonder-wounded hearers? this is I,

Hamlet the Dane.

[Leaps into the grave.]

LAER.

The devil take thy soul!

[Grappling with him.]

HAM.

Thou pray’st not well.

I pr’ythee, take thy fingers from my throat;

For, though I am not splenetive and rash,

Yet have I in me something dangerous,

Which let thy wiseness fear: away thy hand!

KING.

Pluck them asunder.

QUEEN.

Hamlet! Hamlet!

ALL.

Gentlemen!—

HOR.

Good my lord, be quiet.

[The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave.]

HAM.

Why, I will fight with him upon this theme

Until my eyelids will no longer wag.

QUEEN.

O my son, what theme?

HAM.

I lov’d Ophelia; forty thousand brothers

Could not, with all their quantity of love,

Make up my sum.—What wilt thou do for her?

KING.

O, he is mad, Laertes.

QUEEN.

For love of God, forbear him!

HAM.

‘Swounds, show me what thou’lt do:

Woul’t weep? woul’t fight? woul’t fast? woul’t tear thyself?

Woul’t drink up eisel? eat a crocodile?

I’ll do’t.—Dost thou come here to whine?

To outface me with leaping in her grave?

Be buried quick with her, and so will I:

And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw

Millions of acres on us, till our ground,

Singeing his pate against the burning zone,

Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou’lt mouth,

I’ll rant as well as thou.

QUEEN.

This is mere madness:

And thus a while the fit will work on him;

Anon, as patient as the female dove,

When that her golden couplets are disclos’d,

His silence will sit drooping.

HAM.

Hear you, sir;

What is the reason that you use me thus?

I lov’d you ever: but it is no matter;

Let Hercules himself do what he may,

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

[Exit.]

KING.

I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him.—

[Exit Horatio.]

[To Laertes]

Strengthen your patience in our last night’s speech;

We’ll put the matter to the present push.—

Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.—

This grave shall have a living monument:

An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;

Till then in patience our proceeding be.

[Exeunt.]

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Table of Contents

A hall in the Castle.

[Enter Hamlet and Horatio.]

HAM.

So much for this, sir: now let me see the other;

You do remember all the circumstance?

HOR.

Remember it, my lord!

HAM.

Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting

That would not let me sleep: methought I lay

Worse than the mutinies in the bilboes. Rashly,

And prais’d be rashness for it,—let us know,

Our indiscretion sometime serves us well,

When our deep plots do fail; and that should teach us

There’s a divinity that shapes our ends,

Rough-hew them how we will.

HOR.

That is most certain.

HAM.

Up from my cabin,

My sea-gown scarf’d about me, in the dark

Grop’d I to find out them: had my desire;

Finger’d their packet; and, in fine, withdrew

To mine own room again: making so bold,

My fears forgetting manners, to unseal

Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,

O royal knavery! an exact command,—

Larded with many several sorts of reasons,

Importing Denmark’s health, and England’s too,

With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life,—

That, on the supervise, no leisure bated,

No, not to stay the grinding of the axe,

My head should be struck off.

HOR.

Is’t possible?

HAM.

Here’s the commission: read it at more leisure.

But wilt thou bear me how I did proceed?

HOR.

I beseech you.

HAM.

Being thus benetted round with villanies,—

Or I could make a prologue to my brains,

They had begun the play,—I sat me down;

Devis’d a new commission; wrote it fair:

I once did hold it, as our statists do,

A baseness to write fair, and labour’d much

How to forget that learning; but, sir, now

It did me yeoman’s service. Wilt thou know

The effect of what I wrote?

HOR.

Ay, good my lord.

HAM.

An earnest conjuration from the king,—

As England was his faithful tributary;

As love between them like the palm might flourish;

As peace should still her wheaten garland wear

And stand a comma ‘tween their amities;

And many such-like as’s of great charge,—

That, on the view and know of these contents,

Without debatement further, more or less,

He should the bearers put to sudden death,

Not shriving-time allow’d.

HOR.

How was this seal’d?

HAM.

Why, even in that was heaven ordinant.

I had my father’s signet in my purse,

Which was the model of that Danish seal:

Folded the writ up in the form of the other;

Subscrib’d it: gave’t the impression; plac’d it safely,

The changeling never known. Now, the next day

Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent

Thou know’st already.

HOR.

So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to’t.

HAM.

Why, man, they did make love to this employment;

They are not near my conscience; their defeat

Does by their own insinuation grow:

‘Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes

Between the pass and fell incensed points

Of mighty opposites.

HOR.

Why, what a king is this!

HAM.

Does it not, thinks’t thee, stand me now upon,—

He that hath kill’d my king, and whor’d my mother;

Popp’d in between the election and my hopes;

Thrown out his angle for my proper life,

And with such cozenage—is’t not perfect conscience

To quit him with this arm? and is’t not to be damn’d

To let this canker of our nature come

In further evil?

HOR.

It must be shortly known to him from England

What is the issue of the business there.

HAM.

It will be short: the interim is mine;