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Modern English
Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak, I’ll go no further.
Where are you taking me? Speak, I won’t go any further.
Mark me.
Listen to me.
I will.
I’m listening.
My hour is almost come, When I to sulph’rous and tormenting flames Must render up myself.
My time is almost up, When I must go into the burning, torturous flames And give myself up.
Alas, poor ghost!
Oh, poor ghost!
Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing To what I shall unfold.
Don’t pity me, but pay serious attention To what I’m about to tell you.
Speak, I am bound to hear.
Speak, I am ready to listen.
So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.
And you are ready to take revenge, once you hear what I have to say.
What?
What?
I am thy father’s spirit, Doom’d for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confin’d to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purg’d 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 combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. 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—
I am the spirit of your father, Condemned to walk the night for a set time, And during the day, I am trapped in fire and fasting, Until the terrible sins I committed in my mortal life Are burned and purified away. But because I am forbidden To reveal the secrets of my prison, I could tell a story so horrible that even the smallest detail Would torment your soul; freeze your young blood, Make your eyes bulge out like stars falling from the sky, Your tangled hair would unravel, And every hair on your body would stand on end Like the quills of a restless porcupine. But this eternal truth cannot be told To ears of flesh and blood. Listen, listen, oh, listen! If you ever loved your dear father—
O God!
Oh God!
Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.
Avenge his wicked and unnatural murder.
Murder!
Murder?
Murder most foul, as in the best it is; But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
A most terrible murder, as murder goes; But this one is especially vile, strange, and unnatural.
Haste me to know’t, that I, with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love May sweep to my revenge.
Tell me quickly, so that I, as fast as a thought or the feelings of love, Can rush to take my revenge.
I find thee apt; And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear. ’Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forged process of my death Rankly abus’d; but know, thou noble youth, The serpent that did sting thy father’s life Now wears his crown.
I see you’re ready; And you’d be more stupid than a lazy weed That rots away on the bank of the river Lethe, If you didn’t do something about this. Now, Hamlet, listen. It’s been spread around that I was stung by a serpent while sleeping in my orchard, And so the whole kingdom of Denmark Has been misled by the false story of my death, But know this, noble prince, The serpent that killed your father Now wears his crown.
O my prophetic soul! Mine uncle!
Oh, my prophetic soul! My uncle!
Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous 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 mov’d, Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven; So lust, though to a radiant angel link’d, 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 hebenon 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 vigour it doth posset And curd, like eager droppings into milk, The thin and wholesome blood. So did it mine; And a most instant tetter bark’d 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 dispatch’d: Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhous’led, disappointed, unanel’d; No reckoning 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 damned incest. But howsoever thou pursu’st 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 glow-worm shows the matin to be near, And’gins to pale his uneffectual fire. Adieu, adieu, adieu. Hamlet, remember me.
Yes, that incestuous, that adulterous monster, Using his cleverness and treacherous gifts,— Oh, wicked cleverness and gifts, that have the power To deceive like that!—he won over my supposedly virtuous queen To satisfy his shameful desires. Oh Hamlet, what a fall was there, From me, whose love was so pure, That it was bound by the same vows I made to her in marriage; and to fall Into the arms of a man whose natural qualities were so poor Compared to mine. But virtue, as it will never be moved, Even if lust tries to disguise itself as something heavenly; So lust, though it might be linked with a shining angel, Will eventually be satisfied in a heavenly bed And feed on trash. But wait! I think I smell the morning air; Let me be brief. While I slept in my orchard, At my usual afternoon rest, At the time I felt safest, your uncle came With a vial of the poisonous hebenon juice, And poured it into my ears, The rotten substance that spreads so quickly And instantly corrupts a man’s blood, Running through the body like quicksilver; And with sudden strength it curdled And turned my healthy blood into something diseased, Like milk turning sour. That’s what happened to me; And a horrible rash spread over my skin, Like leprosy, with disgusting sores Covering my once smooth body. This is how I was killed, while I slept, by my brother’s hand, And lost my life, my crown, and my queen all at once: Cut off just as my sins were blooming, Denied the last rites, disappointed, unblessed; No reckoning, just sent to my final judgment With all my sins on my head. Oh, horrible! Oh, horrible! Most horrible! If you have any feeling, don’t let this pass; Don’t let Denmark’s royal bed be A place for luxury and damnable incest. But however you go about this, Hamlet, Don’t let your mind be tainted, nor let your soul plan Any harm against your mother; leave her to heaven, And to the guilt that already torments her, To sting and hurt her. Farewell, at once! The glow-worm shows that morning is near, And begins to fade its useless light. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. Hamlet, remember me.
O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else? And shall I couple hell? O, fie! Hold, my heart; And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee? Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember thee? Yea, from the table of my memory I’ll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there; And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmix’d with baser matter. Yes, by heaven! O most pernicious woman! O villain, villain, smiling damned villain! My tables. Meet it is I set it down, That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain! At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark.
Oh, all you heavenly hosts! Oh earth! What else? Should I add hell to that? Oh, stop, my heart; And you, my limbs, don’t grow weak too soon, But hold me up. Remember you? Yes, you poor ghost, as long as memory stays In this distracted world. Remember you? Yes, from the table of my memory I will erase all the petty, silly things All the sayings from books, all the old stories, That youth and learning have written there; And your command will live on its own In my mind, pure and undiluted. Yes, by heaven! Oh, most destructive woman! Oh, villain, villain, smiling, damnable villain! My notes. It’s fitting I write this down, That one can smile, and smile, and still be a villain! At least, I know it’s true in Denmark.
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word; It is‘Adieu, adieu, remember me.’ I have sworn’t.
So, uncle, here you are. Now, to my word; It is "Goodbye, goodbye, remember me." I have sworn it.
[
] My lord, my lord.
] My lord, my lord.
] My lord, my lord.
[
] Lord Hamlet.
] Lord Hamlet.
] Lord Hamlet.
[
] May heaven protect him.
] Heaven secure him.
] May heaven protect him.
So be it!
So be it!
[
] Hello, ho, ho, my lord!
] Illo, ho, ho, my lord!
] Hello, ho, ho, my lord!
Hillo, ho, ho, boy! Come, bird, come.
Hello, ho, ho, boy! Come, bird, come.
How is’t, my noble lord?
How’s it going, my noble lord?
What news, my lord?
What’s the news, my lord?
O, wonderful!
Oh, amazing!
Good my lord, tell it.
Please, my lord, tell us.
No, you’ll reveal it.
No, you’ll be the one to reveal it.
Not I, my lord, by heaven.
Not I, my lord, I swear to God.
Nor I, my lord.
Nor I, my lord.
How say you then, would heart of man once think it?— But you’ll be secret?
What do you think then? Could anyone possibly believe it?— But you’ll keep it secret?
Ay, by heaven, my lord.
Yes, by God, my lord.
There’s ne’er a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he’s an arrant knave.
There’s not a single villain in all of Denmark Who isn’t a total scoundrel.
There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave To tell us this.
We don’t need a ghost, my lord, coming from the grave To tell us that.
Why, right; you are i’the right; And so, without more circumstance at all, I hold it fit that we shake hands and part: You, as your business and desires shall point you,— For every man hath business and desire, Such as it is;—and for my own poor part, Look you, I’ll go pray.
Right, you’re right; And so, without any more details at all, I think it’s best we shake hands and part ways: You, as your business and desires lead you,— Since every man has his own tasks and wants, Whatever they may be;—and as for me, Well, I’ll go pray.
These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.
These are just wild and confusing words, my lord.
I’m sorry they offend you, heartily; Yes faith, heartily.
I’m sorry if I upset you, truly; Yes, really, truly.
There’s no offence, my lord.
There’s no offense, my lord.
Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, And much offence too. Touching this vision here, It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you. For your desire to know what is between us, O’ermaster’t as you may. And now, good friends, As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, Give me one poor request.
Yes, by Saint Patrick, there is, Horatio, And it’s a big offense too. About this vision here, It’s a genuine ghost, let me tell you. As for your desire to know what’s going on with us, Take control of it as you can. And now, good friends, Since you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, I ask one small favor.
What is’t, my lord? We will.
What is it, my lord? We’ll do it.
Never make known what you have seen tonight.
Never tell anyone what you’ve seen tonight.
My lord, we will not.
My lord, we won’t.
Nay, but swear’t.
No, but swear it.
In faith, my lord, not I.
Honestly, my lord, I won’t.
Nor I, my lord, in faith.
Nor will I, my lord, honestly.
Upon my sword.
I swear on my sword.
We have sworn, my lord, already.
We’ve already sworn, my lord.
Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.
Yes, on my sword, yes.
[
] Swear.
] Swear.
] Swear.
Ha, ha boy, say’st thou so? Art thou there, truepenny? Come on, you hear this fellow in the cellarage. Consent to swear.
Ha, ha, boy, did you say that? Are you there, truepenny? Come on, you hear this guy down in the cellar. Agree to swear.
Propose the oath, my lord.
Tell us the oath, my lord.
Never to speak of this that you have seen. Swear by my sword.
Never to talk about what you’ve seen here. Swear on my sword.
[
] Swear.
] Swear.
] Swear.
Then we’ll shift our ground. Come hither, gentlemen, And lay your hands again upon my sword. Never to speak of this that you have heard. Swear by my sword.
Then let’s change our position. Come here, gentlemen, And put your hands back on my sword. Never to talk about what you’ve heard. Swear on my sword.
[
] Swear.
] Swear.
] Swear.
Well said, old mole! Canst work i’th’earth so fast? A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends.
Well said, old mole! Can you work in the earth so quickly? A fine digger! Move over, good friends.
O day and night, but this is wondrous strange.
Oh, day and night, this is really strange.
And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. But come, Here, as before, never, so help you mercy, How strange or odd soe’er I bear myself,— As I perchance hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on— That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, With arms encumber’d thus, or this head-shake, Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, As‘Well, we know’, or‘We could and if we would’, Or‘If we list to speak’; or‘There be and if they might’, Or such ambiguous giving out, to note That you know aught of me:—this not to do. So grace and mercy at your most need help you, Swear.
And so, as if I’m a stranger, I’ll welcome it. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than you could ever imagine in your philosophy. But come, Here, as I said before, no matter how strange or odd I act, As I might, in the future, decide to act crazy— That you, at those times, when you see me, will never, With your arms full like this, or by shaking your head like this, Or by saying some unclear phrase, Like "Well, we know," or "We could, if we wanted to," Or "If we feel like talking"; or "There are things we could do, if we could," Or any vague things like that, giving the impression That you know anything about me—don’t do that. So, God help you, and may mercy be with you in your time of need, Swear.
[
] Swear.
] Swear.
] Swear.
Rest, rest, perturbed spirit. So, gentlemen, With all my love I do commend me to you; And what so poor a man as Hamlet is May do t’express his love and friending to you, God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together, And still your fingers on your lips, I pray. The time is out of joint. O cursed spite, That ever I was born to set it right. Nay, come, let’s go together.
Rest, rest, troubled spirit. So, gentlemen, With all my love, I commend myself to you; And whatever little I, Hamlet, can do To show my love and friendship to you, God willing, I will do. Let’s go in together, And keep your fingers on your lips, I ask. The world is out of whack. Oh, damnable fate, That I was ever born to fix it. No, come, let’s go together.