(The Queen acknowledges Ophelia and
exits.)
POLONIUS
Ophelia, you stand here. (Handing her a book.) Read this
book. (To Claudius) Your majesty, if it so pleases you, we
will stand behind this tapestry.
(King and Polonius step behind
tapestry, Ophelia begins reading.)
(Enter Hamlet.)
HAMLET
To be, or not to be, that is the question: whether 'tis
nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of
existence, or to take arms against such troubles and end them
once and for all. To die--to sleep--no more. And by a sleep
to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks
our minds are exposed to. 'Tis a consumption devoutly to be
wished--to die--to sleep. To sleep.... Perchance to dream!
Ah--there's the rub: for in that sleep of death what dreams
may come when we've shed these mortal bodies? There's the
reason we put up with the calamities of this life. For who
would bear the whips and scorns of time, the injustice of
tyrants, the arrogance of politicians, the slow process of
the courts, the rudeness of the ignorant, or the pangs of
unrequited love--when one could end it all with a blade to an
artery, or a rope lashed to the limb of a tree? Why grunt
and sweat under a weary life? It's what comes afterwards-
the undiscovered country from whose born no traveller returns
which mystifies us, and has us bear these ills, instead of
flying to others that we know not of. Thus this great
mystery makes cowards of us all, and thus enterprises and
moments of greatness are once again marred with fear, before
once again losing the name of action.
(He notices Ophelia.)
HAMLET (CONT'D)
Soft now! Thy fair Ophelia, nymph of all my dreams. Be all
my sins remembered.
(Ophelia looks up from reading)
OPHELIA
My good lord, how are you?
HAMLET
I am well, thank you.
OPHELIA
My lord, there are some things I've been meaning to return to
you.
HAMLET
I've given you nothing.
OPHELIA
My lord, you know very well that you have. And with them,
sweet words which made them all the more valuable. I'm
afraid rich gifts wax poor when the giver becomes unkind.
HAMLET
Really? Are you honest?
OPHELIA
My lord?
HAMLET
Are you fair?
exits.)
POLONIUS
Ophelia, you stand here. (Handing her a book.) Read this
book. (To Claudius) Your majesty, if it so pleases you, we
will stand behind this tapestry.
(King and Polonius step behind
tapestry, Ophelia begins reading.)
(Enter Hamlet.)
To be, or not to be, that is the question: whether 'tis
nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of
existence, or to take arms against such troubles and end them
once and for all. To die--to sleep--no more. And by a sleep
to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks
our minds are exposed to. 'Tis a consumption devoutly to be
wished--to die--to sleep. To sleep.... Perchance to dream!
Ah--there's the rub: for in that sleep of death what dreams
may come when we've shed these mortal bodies? There's the
reason we put up with the calamities of this life. For who
would bear the whips and scorns of time, the injustice of
tyrants, the arrogance of politicians, the slow process of
the courts, the rudeness of the ignorant, or the pangs of
unrequited love--when one could end it all with a blade to an
artery, or a rope lashed to the limb of a tree? Why grunt
and sweat under a weary life? It's what comes afterwards-
the undiscovered country from whose born no traveller returns
which mystifies us, and has us bear these ills, instead of
flying to others that we know not of. Thus this great
mystery makes cowards of us all, and thus enterprises and
moments of greatness are once again marred with fear, before
once again losing the name of action.
(He notices Ophelia.)
HAMLET (CONT'D)
Soft now! Thy fair Ophelia, nymph of all my dreams. Be all
my sins remembered.
(Ophelia looks up from reading)
OPHELIA
My good lord, how are you?
HAMLET
I am well, thank you.
OPHELIA
My lord, there are some things I've been meaning to return to
you.
HAMLET
I've given you nothing.
OPHELIA
My lord, you know very well that you have. And with them,
sweet words which made them all the more valuable. I'm
afraid rich gifts wax poor when the giver becomes unkind.
HAMLET
Really? Are you honest?
OPHELIA
My lord?
HAMLET
Are you fair?
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