9. INCESTORS
Presentation: Freud on the Incest Taboo
Presentation: E. Jones, "The Oedipus Complex as an Explanation of Hamlet's Mystery: A Study in Motive" (1910)
Readings
God Leviticus 18.5-18 [The No-Noes]
God Leviticus 20.11-22 [The Punishments]
God Genesis 19.12-38 [All in the Family]
Anon. fr,The History of Hamblet (1608; ed. DWF 1999)
W. Shakespeare fr. Hamlet, Prince of Denmark (1600; Project Gutenberg text, 1993)
W. Barkstead, Mirrha, Mother of Adonis (1607; ed. DWF 1999)
Wilkins & Shakespeare, fr. Pericles (1606? pub. 1608; ed. DWF 1999)
Reserve reading:
J. Adelman "Man and Wife is One Flesh: Hamlet and the Confrontation with the Maternal Body," Suffocating Mothers (1992).
The Big No-noes
Leviticus, chap. 18.5-
5. Ye shall therefore keep my statutes, and my judgments: which if a man do, he shall live in them: I am the LORD. 6. None of you shall approach to any that is near of kin to him, to uncover their nakedness: I am the LORD.
--7. The nakedness of thy father, or the nakedness of thy mother, shalt thou not uncover: she is thy mother; thou shalt not uncover her nakedness. 8. The nakedness of thy father's wife shalt thou not uncover: it is thy father's nakedness.
--9. The nakedness of thy sister, the daughter of thy father, or daughter of thy mother, whether she be born at home, or born abroad, even their nakedness thou shalt not uncover.
--10. The nakedness of thy son's daughter, or of thy daughter's daughter, even their nakedness thou shalt not uncover: for theirs is thine own nakedness.
--11. The nakedness of thy father's wife's daughter, begotten of thy father, she is thy sister, thou shalt not uncover her nakedness.
--12. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy father's sister: she is thy father's near kinswoman.
--13. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy mother's sister: for she is thy mother's near kinswoman.
--14. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy father's brother, thou shalt not approach to his wife: she is thine aunt.
--15. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy daughter-in-law: she is thy son's wife; thou shalt not uncover her nakedness.
--16. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy brother's wife: it is thy brother's nakedness.
--17. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of both a woman and her daughter, neither shalt thou take her son's daughter, or her daughter's daughter, to uncover her nakedness; for they are her near kinswomen: it is wickedness.
--18. Neither shalt thou take a wife to her sister, to vex her, to uncover her nakedness, beside the other in her life time.
[The Punishments]
Leviticus 20.11-22
[Stoning to death]
--11. And the man that lieth with his father's wife hath uncovered his father's nakedness: both of them shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.
--12. And if a man lie with his daughter in law, both of them shall surely be put to death: they have wrought confusion; their blood shall be upon them.
--13. If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.
[Burning at the stake]
--14. And if a man take a wife and her mother, it is wickedness: they shall be burnt with fire, both he and they; that there be no wickedness among you.
[And don't forget to kill the goat]
--15. And if a man lie with a beast, he shall surely be put to death: and ye shall slay the beast.
--16. And if a woman approach unto any beast, and lie down thereto, thou shalt kill the woman, and the beast: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.
[A guilty conscience]
--17. And if a man shall take his sister, his father's daughter, or his mother's daughter, and see her nakedness, and she see his nakedness; it is a wicked thing; and they shall be cut off in the sight of their people: he hath uncovered his sister's nakedness; he shall bear his iniquity....
--19. And thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy mother's sister, nor of thy father's sister: for he uncovereth his near kin: they shall bear their iniquity.
[No kids]
--20. And if a man shall lie with his uncle's wife, he hath uncovered his uncle's nakedness: they shall bear their sin; they shall die childless.
--21. And if a man shall take his brother's wife, it is an unclean thing: he hath uncovered his brother's nakedness; they shall be childless.
22. Ye shall therefore keep all my statutes, and all my judgments, and do them: that the land, whither I bring you to dwell therein, spew you not out.
[All in the Family]
Genesis 19.12-38
12. And the angels said unto Lot, Hast thou here any besides? son in law, and thy sons, and thy daughters, and whatsoever thou hast in the city, bring them out of this place: 13. For we will destroy this place, because the cry of them is waxen great before the face of the LORD; and the LORD hath sent us to destroy it. 14. And Lot went out, and spake unto his sons in law, which married his daughters, and said, Up, get you out of this place; for the LORD will destroy this city. But he seemed as one that mocked unto his sons in law.
15. And when the morning arose, then the angels hastened Lot, saying, Arise, take thy wife, and thy two daughters, which are here; lest thou be consumed in the iniquity of the city. 16. And while he lingered, the men laid hold upon his hand, and upon the hand of his wife, and upon the hand of his two daughters; the LORD being merciful unto him: and they brought him forth, and set him without the city.
17. And it came to pass, when they had brought them forth abroad, that he said, Escape for thy life; look not behind thee, neither stay thou in all the plain; escape to the mountain, lest thou be consumed.
18. And Lot said unto them, Oh, not so, my Lord: 19. Behold now, thy servant hath found grace in thy sight, and thou hast magnified thy mercy, which thou hast shewed unto me in saving my life; and I cannot escape to the mountain, lest some evil take me, and I die: 20. Behold now, this city is near to flee unto, and it is a little one: Oh, let me escape thither, (is it not a little one?) and my soul shall live.
21. And he said unto him, See, I have accepted thee concerning this thing also, that I will not overthrow this city, for the which thou hast spoken. 22. Haste thee, escape thither; for I cannot do any thing till thou be come thither. Therefore the name of the city was called Zoar.
23. The sun was risen upon the earth when Lot entered into Zoar. 24. Then the LORD rained upon Sodom and upon Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the LORD out of heaven; 25. And he overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground. 26. But his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt.
27. And Abraham gat up early in the morning to the place where he stood before the LORD: 28. And he looked toward Sodom and Gomorrah, and toward all the land of the plain, and beheld, and, lo, the smoke of the country went up as the smoke of a furnace.
29. And it came to pass, when God destroyed the cities of the plain, that God remembered Abraham, and sent Lot out of the midst of the overthrow, when he overthrew the cities in the which Lot dwelt. 30. And Lot went up out of Zoar, and dwelt in the mountain, and his two daughters with him; for he feared to dwell in Zoar: and he dwelt in a cave, he and his two daughters. 31. And the firstborn said unto the younger, Our father
is old, and there is not a man in the earth to come in unto us after the manner of all the earth: 32. Come, let us make our father drink wine, and we will lie with him, that we may preserve seed of our father.
33. And they made their father drink wine that night: and the firstborn went in, and lay with her father; and he perceived not when she lay down, nor when she arose. 34. And it came to pass on the morrow, that the firstborn said unto the younger, Behold, I lay yesternight with my father: let us make him drink wine this night also; and go thou in, and lie with him, that we may preserve seed of our Father. 35. And they made their father drink wine that night also: and the younger arose, and lay with him; and he perceived not when she lay down, nor when she arose. 36. Thus were both the daughters of Lot with child by their father. 37. And the firstborn bare a son, and called his name Moab: the same is the father of the Moabites unto this day. 38. And the younger, she also bare a son, and called his name Benammi: the same is the father of the children of
Ammon unto this day.
[Brotherly Love]
2 Samuel 13.1-39
1. And it came to pass after this, that Absalom the son of David had a fair sister, whose name was Tamar; and Amnon the son of David loved her. 2. And Amnon was so vexed, that he fell sick for his sister Tamar; for she was a virgin; and Amnon thought it hard for him to do any thing to her. 3. But Amnon had a friend, whose name was Jonadab, the son of Shimeah David's brother: and Jonadab was a very subtil man. 4. And he said unto him, Why art thou, being the king's son, lean from day to day? wilt thou not tell me? And Amnon said unto him, I love Tamar, my brother Absalom's sister. 5. And Jonadab said unto him, Lay thee down on thy bed, and make thyself sick: and when thy father cometh to see thee, say unto him, I pray thee, let my sister Tamar come, and give me meat, and dress the meat in my sight, that I may see it, and eat it at her hand.
6. So Amnon lay down, and made himself sick: and when the king was come to see him, Amnon said unto the king, I pray thee, let Tamar my sister come, and make me a couple of cakes in my sight, that I may eat at her hand. 7. Then David sent home to Tamar, saying, Go now to thy brother Amnon's house, and dress him meat. 8. So Tamar went to her brother Amnon's house; and he was laid down. And she took flour, and kneaded it, and made cakes in his sight, and did bake the cakes. 9. And she took a pan, and poured them out before him; but he refused to eat. And Amnon said, Have out all men from me. And they went out every man from him. 10. And Amnon said unto Tamar, Bring the meat into the chamber, that I may eat of thine hand. And Tamar took the cakes which she had made, and brought them into the chamber to Amnon her brother. 11. And when she had brought them unto him to eat, he took hold of her, and said unto her, Come lie with me, my sister.
12. And she answered him, Nay, my brother, do not force me; for no such thing ought to be done in Israel: do not thou this folly. 13. And I, whither shall I cause my shame to go? and as for thee, thou shalt be as one of the fools in Israel. Now therefore, I pray thee, speak unto the king; for he will not withhold me from thee. 14. Howbeit he would not hearken unto her voice: but, being stronger than she, forced her, and lay with her. 15. Then Amnon hated her exceedingly; so that the hatred wherewith he hated her was greater than the love wherewith he had loved her. And Amnon said unto her, Arise, be gone.
16. And she said unto him, There is no cause: this evil in sending me away is greater than the other that thou didst unto me. But he would not hearken unto her. 17. Then he called his servant that ministered unto him, and said, Put now this woman out from me, and bolt the door after her. 18. And she had a garment of divers colours upon her: for with such robes were the king's daughters that were virgins apparelled. Then his servant brought her out, and bolted the door after her.
19. And Tamar put ashes on her head, and rent her garment of divers colours that was on her, and laid her hand on her head, and went on crying. 20. And Absalom her brother said unto her, Hath Amnon thy brother been with thee? but hold now thy peace, my sister: he is thy brother; regard not this thing. So Tamar remained desolate in her brother Absalom's house.
21. But when king David heard of all these things, he was very wroth. 22. And Absalom spake unto his brother Amnon neither good nor bad: for Absalom hated Amnon, because he had forced his sister Tamar. 23. And it came to pass after two full years, that Absalom had sheepshearers in Baal-hazor, which is beside Ephraim: and Absalom invited all the king's sons. 24. And Absalom came to the king, and said, Behold now, thy servant hath sheepshearers; let the king, I beseech thee, and his servants go with thy servant. 25. And the king said to Absalom, Nay, my son, let us not all now go, lest we be chargeable unto thee. And he pressed him: howbeit he would not go, but blessed him. 26. Then said Absalom, If not, I pray thee, let my brother Amnon go with us. And the king said unto him, Why should he go with thee? 27. But Absalom pressed him, that he let Amnon and all the king's sons go with him. 28. Now Absalom had commanded his servants, saying, Mark ye now when Amnon's heart is merry with wine, and when I say unto you, Smite Amnon; then kill him, fear not: have not I commanded you? be courageous and be valiant. 29. And the servants of Absalom did unto Amnon as Absalom had commanded. Then all the king's sons arose, and every man gat him up upon his mule, and fled. 30. And it came to pass, while they were in the way, that tidings came to David, saying, Absalom hath slain all the king's sons, and there is not one of them left.
31. Then the king arose, and tare his garments, and lay on the earth; and all his servants stood by with their clothes rent. 32. And Jonadab, the son of Shimeah David's brother, answered and said, Let not my lord suppose that they have slain all the young men the king's sons; for Amnon only is dead: for by the appointment of Absalom this hath been determined from the day that he forced his sister Tamar. 33. Now therefore let not my lord the king take the thing to his heart, to think that all the king's sons are dead: for Amnon only is dead. 34. But Absalom fled. And the young man that kept the watch lifted up his eyes, and looked, and, behold, there came much people by the way of the hill side behind him. 35. And Jonadab said unto the king, Behold, the king's sons come: as thy servant said, so it is. 36. And it came to pass, as soon as he had made an end of speaking, that, behold, the king's sons came, and lifted up their voice and wept: and the king also and all his servants wept very sore. 37. But Absalom fled, and went to Talmai, the son of Ammihud, king of Geshur. And David mourned for his son every day. 38. So Absalom fled, and went to Geshur, and was there three years. 39. And the soul of king David longed to go forth unto Absalom: for he was comforted concerning Amnon, seeing he was dead.
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Anon., The History of Hamblet (1608)
The History of Hamblet
[omitted here: "The Argument" and "The Preface"]
The History of Hamblet, Prince of DENMARK.
CHAP. I.
How Horvendile and Fengon were made Governors of the Province of Ditmarse, and how Horvendile married Geruth, daughter to Roderick chief K. of Denmark: by whom he had Hamblet: and how after his marriage his brother Fengon slew him traitorously, and married his brothers wife, and what followed.
You must understand, that long time before the Kingdom of Denmark received the faith of Jesus Christ, and embraced the doctrine of the Christians, that the common people in those days were barbarous and uncivil, and their Princes cruel, without faith or loyalty: seeking nothing but murther, and deposing or (at the least) offending each other; either in honors, goods, or lives: not caring to ransom such as they took prisoners, but rather sacrificing them to the cruel vengeance naturally imprinted in their hearts; in such sort, that if there were sometime a good prince or king among them (who being adorned with the most perfect gifts of nature would addict himself to virtue, and use courtesy), although the people held him in admiration (as virtue is admirable to the most wicked), yet the envy of his neighbors was so great, that they never ceased until that virtuous man were dispatched out of the world.
King Roderick as then reigning in Denmark, after he had appeased the troubles in the country and driven the Sweathlanders and Slaveans from thence; he divided the kingdom into divers provinces, placing governors therein...
[Of] two valiant and warlike Lords, Horvendile and Fengon, sons to Gervendile, who likewise had been governor of that province.
Now the greatest honor that men of noble birth could at that time win and obtain, was in exercising the art of piracy upon the seas, assailing their neighbors and the countries bordering upon them: and how much the more they used to rob, pill, and spoil other provinces and islands far adjacent, so much the more their honors and reputation increased and augmented: wherein Horvendile obtained the highest place in his time, being the most renowned pirate that in those days scoured the seas and havens of the North parts: whose great fame so moved the heart of Collere king of Norway, that he was much grieved to hear that Horvendile surmounting him in feats of arms, thereby obscuring the glory by him already obtained upon the seas (honor more than covetousness of riches in those days being the reason that provoked those barbarian princes to overthrow and vanquish one the other; not caring to be slain by the hands of a victorious person.)
This valiant and hardy king, having challenged Horvendile to fight with him body to body, the combat was by him accepted, with conditions that he which should be vanquished should lose all the riches he had in his ship, and that the vanquisher should cause the body of the vanquished (that should be slain in the combat) to be honorably buried, death being the prize and reward of him that should lose the battle: and to conclude, Collere king of Norway (although a valiant, hardy and courageous prince) was in the end vanquished and slain by Horvendile: who presently caused a tomb to be erected, and therein (with all honorable obsequies fit for a prince) buried the body of king Collere, according to their ancient manner and superstitions in those days, and the conditions of the combat, bereaving the king's ships of all their riches, and having slain the king's sister, a very brave and valiant warrior, and overrun all the coast of Norway, and the Northern Islands, returned home again laden with much treasure, sending the most part thereof to his sovereign, King Rodericke, thereby to procure his good liking, and so to be accounted one of the greatest favorites about his majesty.
The King, allured by those presents and esteeming himself happy to have so valiant a subject, sought by a great favor and courtesy to make him become bounden unto him perpetually, giving him Geruth his daughter to his wife, of whom he knew Horvendile to be already much enamored... and to be brief, of this marriage proceeded Hamblet, of whom I intend to speak, and for his cause have chosen to renew this present History.
Fengon brother to this Prince Horvendile, who only fretting and despiting in his heart at the great honor and reputation won by his brother in warlike affairs, ... determined, whatsoever happened, to kill him; ... having secretly assembled certain men, and perceiving himself strong enough to execute his enterprise (Horvendile his brother being at a banquet with his friends), [Fengon] suddenly set upon him, where he slew him as traitorously, as cunningly he purged himself of so detestable a murther to his subjects: for that before he had any violent or bloody hands or once committed parricide upon his brother, he had incestuously abused his wife,... and covered his boldness and wicked practice with so great subtlety and policy and under a veil of mere simplicity....
[This adulterer and infamous murtherer slandered his dead brother, [reporting] that [Horvendile] would have slain his wife, and that [Fengon] by chance finding him upon the point ready to do it, in defense of the lady had slain him, bearing off the blows which as then [Horvendile] struck at the innocent princess, without any other cause of malice whatsoever; wherein [Fengon] wanted no false witnesses to approve his act, which deposed in like sort as the wicked calumniator himself protested (being the same persons that had borne him company, and were participants of his treason); so that, instead of pursuing him as a parricide and an incestuous person, all the courtiers admired and flattered [Fengon] in his good fortune....
Which was the cause that Fengon, boldened and encouraged by such impunity, durst venture to couple himself in marriage with [Queen Geruth], whom he used as his concubine during good Horvendile's life (in that sort spotting his name with a double vice, and charging his conscience with abhominable guilt and twofold impiety, as incestuous adultery, and parricide murther): and that the unfortunate and wicked woman, that had received the honor to be the wife of one of the valiantest and wisest princes in the North, imbased herself in such vile sort, as to falsify her faith unto him, and which is worse, to marry him, that had been the tyrannous murtherer of her lawful husband: which made divers men think, that she had been the causer of the murther, thereby to live in her adultery without control. But where shall a man find a more wicked and bold woman than a great personage, once having loosed the bands of honor and honesty? This princess who at the first, for her rare virtues and courtesies was honored of all men and beloved of her husband, as soon as she once gave ear to the tyrant Fengon, forgot both the rank she held among the greatest dames and the duty of an honest wife on her behalf.
(But I will not stand to gaze and marvel at women, for that there are many which seek to blaze and set them forth: in which their writings, they spare not to blame them all for the faults of some one, or few women. But I say, that either Nature ought to have bereaved man of that opinion to accompany with women, or else to endow [men] with such spirits, as that they may easily support the crosses they endure, without complaining so often and so strangely, seeing it is their own beastliness that overthrows them. For if it be so, that a woman is so imperfect a creature, as [men] make her to be: and that they know this beast to be so hard to be tamed as they affirm, why, then, are [men] so foolish to preserve them, and so dull and brutish as to trust their deceitful and wanton embracing? But let us leave her in this extremity of lasciviousness and proceed to show you, in what sort the young Prince Hamlet behaved himself, to escape the tyranny of his uncle.)
CHAP. II.
How Hamblet counterfeited the mad man, to escape the tyranny of his uncle, and how he was tempted by a woman (through his uncle's procurement) who thereby thought to undermind the Prince, and by that means to find out whether he counterfeited madness or not: and how Hamblet would by no means be brought to consent unto her; and what followed.
Geruth having (as I said before) so much forgotten herself, the prince Hamblet perceiving himself to be in danger of his life, as being abandoned of his own mother and forsaken of all men; and assuring himself that Fengon would not detract the time, to send him the same way his father Horvendile was gone: to beguile the tyrant in his subtleties (that esteemed [Hamblet] to be of such a mind, that if he once attained to man's estate, he would not long delay ye time to revenge the death of his father), counterfeiting the madman with such craft and subtle practice, that he made show as if he had utterly lost his wits: and under that veil he covered his pretense, and defended his life from the treasons and practice of the tyrant his uncle. ...
Hamblet in this sort counterfeiting the mad man, many times did divers actions of great and deep consideration, and often made such and so fit answers, that a wise man would soon have judged from what spirit so fine an invention might proceed, for that standing by the fire and sharpening sticks like poniards and pricks, one in smiling manner asked him wherefore he made those little staves so sharp at the points. "I prepare," saith he, "piercing darts and sharp arrows, to revenge my father's death." Fools (as I said before) esteemed those his words as nothing; but men of quick spirits and such as had a deeper reach began to suspect somewhat, esteeming that under that kind of folly there lay hidden a great and rare subtlety, such as one day might be prejudicial to their prince, saying that under color of such rudeness he shadowed a crafty policy, and by his devised simplicity, he concealed a sharp and pregnant spirit--
For which cause they counseled the king to try and know, if it were possible, how to discover ye intent and meaning of ye young prince. And they could find no better nor more fit invention to entrap him than to set some fair and beautiful woman in a secret place, that with flattering speeches and all the craftiest means she could use, should purposely seek to allure his mind to have his pleasure of her. ... To this end certain courtiers were appointed to lead Hamblet into a solitary place within the woods, whether they brought the woman, inciting him to take their pleasures together, and to embrace one another,... and surely the poor prince at this assault had been in great danger, if a gentleman (that in Horvendile's time had been nourished with him) had not shown himself more affectioned to the bringing up he had received with Hamblet, than desirous to please the tyrant....
This gentleman ... gave Hamblet intelligence in what danger he was like to fall if by any means he seemed to obey, or once like the wanton toys and vicious provocations of the gentlewoman sent thither by his Uncle; which much abashed the prince, as then wholly being in affection to the lady; but by her he was likewise informed of the treason, as being one that from her infancy loved and favored him, and would have been exceeding sorrowful for his misfortune, and much more to leave his company without enjoying the pleasure of his body, whom she loved more than herself. The Prince in this sort having both deceived the courtiers, and the lady’s expectation, that affirmed and swore that he never once offered to have his pleasure of the woman, although in subtlety he affirmed the contrary: every man there upon assured themselves that without all doubt he was distraught of his senses, that his brains were as then wholly void of force, and incapable of reasonable apprehension so that as then Fengon’s practice took no effect. But for all that, [Fengon] left not off: still seeking by al means to find out Hamblet’s subtlety: as in the next chapter you shall perceive.
CHAP. III.
How Fengon Uncle to Hamblet a second time to entrap him in his politic madness: caused one of his counselors to be secretly hidden in the Queen's chamber behind the arras, to hear what speeches past between Hamblet and the Queen and how Hamblet killed him, and escaped that danger and what followed.
Among the friends of Fengon, there was one that above all the rest doubted of Hamblet’s practice in counterfeiting the madman, who for that cause said, that it was impossible that so crafty a gallant as Hamblet that counterfeited the fool, should be discovered with so common and unskillful practice, which might easily be perceived, and that to find out his politic pretense it were necessary to invent some subtle and crafty means, more attractive: whereby the gallant might not have the leisure to use his accustomed dissimulation; which to effect, he said he knew a fit way and a most convenient mean to effect the king's desire, and thereby to entrap Hamblet in his subtleties, and cause him of his own accord to fall into the net prepared for him, and thereby evidently show his secret meaning.
His devise was thus: that King Fengon should make as though he were to go some long voyage, concerning affairs of great importance and that in the meantime Hamblet should be shut up alone in a chamber with his mother, wherein some other should secretly be hidden behind the hangings, unknown either to him or his mother, there to stand and hear their speeches and the complots by them to be taken concerning the accomplishments of the dissembling fool's pretense; assuring the king that if there were any point of wisdom and perfect sense in the gallant's spirit that without all doubt he would easily discover it to his mother as being devoid of all fear that she would utter or make known his secret intent, being the woman that had borne him in her body, and nourished him so carefully. [A]nd [this counselor] withal offered himself to be the man that should stand to harken and bear witness of Hamblet’s speeches with his mother--that he might not be esteemed a counselor in such a case wherein he refused to be the executioner, for the behoof and service of his prince.
This invention pleased the King exceeding well, esteeming it as the only and sovereign remedy to heal the prince of his lunacy, and to that end making a long voyage issued out of his palace, and road to hunt in the forest. Meantime. the counselor entered secretly into the Queen's chamber, and there hid himself behind the arras, not long before the Queen and Hamblet came thither, who being crafty and politic, as soon as he was within the chamber doubting some treason, and fearing if he should speak severely and wisely to his mother touching his secret practice he should be understood, and by that means intercepted, used his ordinary manner of dissimulation, and began to come like a cock beating with his arms, (in such manner as cocks use to strike with their wings upon the hangings of the chamber, whereby feeling something stirring under them, he cried "A rat, a rat!" and presently drawing his sword thrust it into the hangings, which done, pulled the counselor (half dead) out by the heels; made an end of killing him; and, being slain, cut his body in pieces; which he caused to be boiled and then cast it into an open vault or privy, that so it might serve for food to the hogs;...
Having discovered the ambush, and given the inventor thereof his just reward, [Hamblet] came again to his mother, who in the meantime wept and tormented herself, to see all her hopes frustrate; for that what fault soever she had committed, yet was she sore grieved to see her only child made a mere mockery, every man reproaching her with his folly; one point whereof she had as then seen before her eyes, which was no small prick to her conscience, esteeming that the gods sent her that punishment, for joining incestuously in marriage with the tyrannous murtherer of her husband,... calling to mind the great praises and commendations given by the Danes to Rinde daughter to King Rothere, the chastest Lady in her time, and withal so shamefast that she would never consent to marriage with any prince or knight whatsoever, surpassing in virtue all the ladies of her time, as she herself surmounted them in beauty, good behavior and comeliness,..
While in this sort [Queen Geruth] sat tormenting herself, Hamlet entered into the chamber, who having once again searched every corner of the same, distrusting his mother as well as the rest, and perceiving himself to be alone, began in sober and discreet manner to speak unto her saying, "What treason is this, O most infamous woman! of all that ever prostrated themselves to the will of an abhominable whoremonger! who, under the veil of a dissembling creature, covereth the most wicked and detestable crime that man could ever imagine, or was, committed! How may I be assured to trust you, that like a vile wanton adulteress, altogether impudent and given over to her pleasure, runs spreading forth her arms joyfully to embrace the traitorous villainous tyrant, that murthered my father? --and most incestuously receivest the villain into the lawful bed of your loyal spouse, impudently entertaining him instead of the dear father of your miserable and discomforted son? ... Is this the part of a queen, and daughter to a king, to live like a brute beast? and like a mare that yieldeth her body to the horse that hath beaten her companion away? to follow the pleasure of an abhominable king that hath murthered a far more honester and better man than himself in massacring Horvendile, the honor, and glory of the Danes? --who are now esteemed of no force nor valor at all, since the shining splendor of knighthood was brought to an end by the most wickedest, and cruellest villain living upon earth? I for my part will never account him for my kinsman, nor once know him for mine uncle, nor you my dear mother for not having respect to the blood that ought to have united us so straightly together; and who neither with your honor nor without suspicion of consent to the death of your husband could ever have agreed to have married with his cruel enemy!
"O Queen Geruth, it is the part of a bitch to couple with many, and [to] desire acquaintance of divers mastives! it is licentiousness only that hath made you deface out of your mind the memory of the valor and virtues of the good King your husband and my father. It was an unbridled desire that guided the daughter of Roderick to embrace the tyrant Fengon, and not to remember Horvendile (unworthy of so strange entertainment), neither that he killed his brother traitorously! --and that she, being his father's wife betrayed him, although he so well favored and loved her, that for her sake he utterly bereaved Norway of her riches and valiant soldiers, to augment the treasures of Roderick, and make Geruth wife to the hardiest prince in Europe, It is not the part of a woman, much less of a princess, in whom all modesty, courtesy, compassion and love ought to abound, thus to leave her dear child to fortune in the bloody and murtherous hands of a villain and traitor. Brute beasts do not so: for lions, tigers, ounces, and leopards fight for the safety and defense of their whelps, and birds that have beaks, claws and wings, resist such as would ravish them of their young ones. But you, to the contrary, expose and deliver me to death, whereas ye should defend me! Is not this as much as if you should betray me, when you, knowing the perverseness of the tyrant and his intents, full of deadly counsel as touching the race and image of his brother, have not once sought nor desired to find the means to save your child (and only son) by sending him into Swethland, Norway or England, rather than to leave him as a prey to your infamous adulterer?
"Be not offended I pray you, Madame, if transported with dolor and grief I speak so boldly unto you, and that I respect you less than duty requireth. For you having forgotten me, and wholly rejected the memory of the deceased King my father, must not be abashed if I also surpass the bounds and limits of due consideration, Behold into what distress I am now fallen, and to what mischief my fortune and your over-great lightness and want of wisdom have induced me, that I am constrained to play the madman to save my life instead of using and practising arms, following adventures, and seeking all means to make myself known to be the true and undoubted heir of the valiant and virtuous King Horvendile. ...
"[T]he face of a mad man serveth to cover my gallant countenance, and the gestures of a fool are fit for me, to ye end that guiding myself wisely therein I may preserve my life for ye Danes and the memory of my late deceased father, for that the desire of revenging his death is so engraven in my heart that, if I die not shortly, I hope to take such and so great vengeance, that these countries shall for ever speak thereof. ... To conclude, weep not, madame, to see my folly, but rather sigh and lament your own offense, tormenting your conscience in regard of the infamy that hath so defiled the ancient renown and glory that in times past honored Queen Geruth...."
Although the Queen perceived herself nearly touched, and that Hamlet moved her to the quick, where she felt herself interessed: nevertheless she forgot all disdain and wrath which thereby she might as then have had, hearing herself so sharply chidden, and reproved, for the joy she then conceived, to behold the gallant spirit of her son, and to think what she might hope, and the easier expect of his so great policy and wisdom. But on the one side she durst not lift up her eyes to behold him, remembering her offense, and on the other side she would gladly have embraced her son, in regard of the wise admonitions by him given unto her, which as then quenched the flames of unbridled desire that before had moved her to affect King Fengon: to ingraff in her heart ye virtuous actions of her lawful spouse, whom inwardly she much lamented, when she beheld the lively image and portraiture of his virtue and great wisdom in her child, representing his father's haughty and valiant heart: and so overcome and vanquished with this honest passion, and weeping most bitterly, having long time fixed her eyes upon Hamlet, as being ravished into some great and deep contemplation, and as it were wholly amazed; at the last embracing him in her arms (with the like love that a virtuous mother may or can use, to kiss and entertain her own child) she spake unto him in this manner.
"I know well, my son, that I have done thee great wrong in marrying with Fengon, the cruel tyrant and murtherer of thy father, and my loyal spouse: ... [S]eeing that thy senses are whole and sound, I am in hope to see an easy means invented for the revenging of thy father's death. Nevertheless, mine own sweet son, if thou hast pity of thyself, or care of the memory of thy father (although thou wilt do nothing for her that deserveth not the name of a mother in this respect) I pray thee, carry thine affairs wisely. Be not hasty, nor over-furious in thy enterprises. Neither yet advance thyself more than reason shall move thee to effect thy purpose. Thou seest there is not almost any man wherein thou mayest put thy trust, nor any woman to whom I dare utter the least part of my secrets, that would not presently report it to thine adversary,... and I am greatly afraid that the devils have showed him what hath passed at this present between us ...."
"Madame ," said Hamlet, "I will put my trust in you, and from henceforth mean not to meddle further with your affairs, beseeching you (as you love your own flesh and blood) that you will from henceforth no more esteem of the adulterer mine enemy, whom I will surely kill, or cause to be put to death, in despite of all the devils in hell: and have he never so many flattering courtesans to defend him, yet will I bring him to his death, and they themselves also shall bear him company therein: as they have been his perverse counsellors in the action of killing my father, and his companions in his treason, massacre, and cruel enterprise. And reason requireth, that even as traitorously they then caused their prince to be put to death, that with the like (nay, well much more) justice they should pay the interest of their felonious actions...."
After this Fengon (as if he had been out some long journey) came to the court again, and asked for him that had received the charge to play the intillegencer, to entrap Hamlet, in his dissembled wisdom, was abashed to hear neither news nor tidings of him, and for that cause asked Hamlet what was become of him, naming the man. The prince that never used lying, and who in all the answers that ever he made during his counterfeit madness never strayed from the truth (as a generous mind is a mortal enemy to untruth) answered and said, that the counselor he sought for, was gone down through the privy, where being choked by the filthiness of the place, the hogs meeting him had filled their bellies.
CHAP. IIII.
How Fengon the third time devised to send Hamblet to the king of England, with secret letters to have him put to death: and how Hamblet when his companions slept, read the Letters, and instead of them, counterfeited others, willing the king of England to put the two messengers to death, and to marry his daughter to Hamblet, which was effected, and how Hamblet escaped out of England.
A man would have judged anything rather than that Hamblet had committed that murther. Nevertheless, Fengon could not content himself, but still his mind gave him, that the fool would play him some trick of legerdemain, and willingly would have killed him, but he feared King Rodericke, his grandfather, and further durst not offend the Queen, mother to the fool, whom she loved and much cherished: showing great grief and heaviness to see him so transported out of his wits. And in that conceit, seeking to be rid of him, determined to find the means to do it by the aid of a stranger, making the king of England minister of his massacring resolution, choosing rather that his friend should defile his renown, with so great a wickedness, then himself to fall into perpetual infamy, by an exploit of so great cruelty, to whom he purposed to send him, and by letters desire to him to put him to death.
Hamblet understanding that he should be sent into England, presently doubted the occasion of his voyage, and for that cause speaking to the Queen, desired her not to make any show of sorrow or grief for his departure, but rather counterfeit a gladness, as being rid of his presence, who although she loved, yet she daily grieved to see him in so pitiful estate deprived of all sense and reason: desiring her further, that she should hang the hall with tapestry and make it fast with nails upon the walls; and [to] keep the brands for him which he had sharpened at the points (then, when as he said he made "arrows to revenge the death of his father"): lastly, he counselled her, that the year after his departure being accomplished, she should celebrate his funerals: assuring her, that at the same instant, she should see him return with great contentment and pleasure unto her for that his voyage.
Now to bear him company, were assigned two of Fengon's faithful ministers, bearing letters engraved in wood, that contained Hamlet's death, in such sort as he had advertised the King of England. But the subtle Danish prince (being at sea) whilest his companions slept, having read the letters, and known his uncle's great treason, with the wicked and villainous minds of the two courtyers that led him to the slaughter; rased out the letters that concerned his death, and instead thereof graved others, with commission to the King of England to hang his two companions; and, not content to turn the death they had devised against him upon their own necks, wrote further that King Fengon willed him to give his daughter to Hamblet in marriage: and so arriving in England, the messengers presented themselves to the King, giving him Fengon's letters; who, having read the contents, said nothing as then, but stayed convenient time to effect Fengon's desire, meantime using the Danes familiarly, doing them that honor to sit at his table (for that kings as then were not so curiously nor solemnly served as in these our days;... And as the Messengers sat at the table with the king, subtle Hamlet was so far from being merry with them that he would not taste one bit of meat, bread, nor cup of bear whatsoever, as then set upon the table, not without great wondering of the company, abashed to see a young man and a stranger, not to esteemeof the delicate meats and pleasant drinks served at the banquet, rejecting them as things filthy, evil of taste and worse prepared. The king who for that time dissembled what he thought, caused his guests to be conveyed into their chamber, willing one of his secret servants to hide himself therein, and so to certify him what speeches past among the Danes at their going to bed.
Now they were no sooner entered into the chamber, and those that were appointed to attend upon them gone out, but Hamlet's companions asked him why he refused to eat and drink of that which he found upon the table, not honoring the banquet of so great a king, that entertained them in friendly sort, with such honor and courtesy as it deserved: saying further, that he did not well, but dishonored him that sent him, as if he sent men into England that feared to be poisoned by so great a king. The prince, that had done nothing without reason and prudent consideration, answered them and said: "What think you, ... and how would you have me to respect the King that hath the countenance of a slave, and the Queen who instead of great majesty, hath done three things more like a woman of base parentage, and fitter for a waiting gentlewoman than beseeming a lady of her quality and estate?" --and having said so, used many injurious and sharp speeches as well against the king and queen, as others that had assisted at that banquet for the entertainment of the Danish ambassadors: and therein Hamblet said truth, as hereafter you shall hear,...
In those days the North parts of the world, living as then under Satan's laws, were full of enchanters. So that there was not any young gentleman whatsoever that knew not something therein sufficient to serve his turn, if need required.... Hamblet, brought up in these abuses, ... [said] that he had not done anything that was not good and most true....
[T]he King being advertised thereof by him that stood to hear the discourse, judged presently that Hamlet speaking so ambiguously was either a perfect fool, or else one of the wisest princes in his time, answering so suddenly and so much to the purpose,.... The King, greatly moved with a certain curiosity to know why the Danish prince said that he had the countenance of a slave, suspecting thereby that he reproached the baseness of his blood and that he would affirm that never any prince had been his sire, wherein to satisfy himself, he went to his mother; and leading her into a secret chamber, which he shut as soon as they were entered, desired her of her honor to show him of whom he was engendred in this world. The good lady, well assured that never any man had been acquainted with her love, touching any other man than her husband, sware that the king her husband only was the man that had enjoyed the pleasures of her body; but the king her son all rready with the truth of the Danish prince's answers, threatened his mother to make her tell by force, if otherwise she would not confess it; who, for fear of death, acknowledged that she had prostrated her body to a slave, and made him father to the king of England--whereat the king was abashed and wholly ashamed....
But as he was sorry to hear his mother's confession, on the other side he took great pleasure in the subtlety and quick spirit of the young prince; and for that cause went unto him to ask him why he had reproved three things in his queen convenient for a slave, and savoring more of baseness than of royalty and far unfit for the majesty of a great prince? The king not content to have received a great displeasure by knowing himself to be a bastard, and to have heard with what injuries he charged her whom he loved best in all the world, would not content himself until he also understood that which displeased him, as much as his own proper disgrace--which was that his queen was the daughter of a chambermaid, and withal noted certain foolish countenances she made, which not only showed of what parentage she came, but also that her humors savored of the baseness and low degree of her parents, whose mother, he assured the king, was as then yet holden in servitude.
The king admiring the young prince and beholding in him some matter of greater respect than in the common sort of men, gave him his daughter in marriage, according to the counterfeit letters by him devised, and the next day caused the two servants of Fengon to be executed, to satisfy as he thought the king [of Denmark]'s desire. But Hamlet, although ye sport plesed him well, and that the King of England could not have done him a greater favor made as though he had been much offended, threatening the king to be revenged; but the King, to appease him, gave him a great sum of gold, which Hamlet caused to be molten and put it into two staves made hollow for the same purpose, to serve his turn there with as need should require, for of all other the king's treasures he took nothing with him into Denmark but only those two staves, and as soon as the year began to be at an end, having somewhat before obtained license of the King his father-in-law to depart, went for Denmark, Then with all the speed he could to return again into England to marry his daughter and so set sail for Denmark.
CHAP. V.
How Hamblet having escaped out of England, arrived in Denmark the same day that the Danes were celebrating his funerals, supposing him to be dead in England, and how he revenged his father's death upon his uncle and the rest of the Courtiers: and what followed.
Hamblet in that sort sailing into Denmark, being arrived in the country entered into the the palace of his Uncle the same day that they were celebrating his funerals ;and going into the Hall procured no small astonishment and wonder to them all, no man thinking other but that he had been dead; ... Their amazement at the last being turned into laughter, all that as then were assistant at the funeral banquet, of him whom they esteemed dead, mocked each at other, for having been so simply deceived, and wondering at the Prince, that in his so long a voyage he had not recovered any of his senses, asked what was become of them that had borne him company into great Britain, to whom he made answer (showing them the two hollow staves, wherein he had put his molten gold, that the king of England had given him to appease his fury, concerning the murther of his two companions,) and said here they are both,
[W]hen every man busied himself to make good cheer, and Hamlet's arrival provoked them more to drink and carouse, the prince himself at that time played the butler and a gentleman attending on the tables, not suffering the pots nor goblets to be empty whereby he gave the noble men such store of liquor, that all of them being full laden with wine, and, gorged with meat, were constrained to lay themselves down in the same place where they had supt, so much their senses were dulled, and overcome with the fire of over great drinking, (a vice common and familiar among the Almaines, and other nations, inhabiting the north parts of ye world; ... [O]ccasion so fitly finding his turn, and as it were effecting itself, [Hamlet] failed not to take hold thereof and seeing those drunken bodies, filled with wine, lying like hogs upon the ground, some sleeping, others vomiting the over-great abundance of wine which without measure they had swallowed up; [he] made the hangings about the hall to fall down and cover them all over, which he nailed to the ground being boarded, and at the ends thereof he stuck the brands whereof I spake before by him sharpened, which served for pricks, binding and tying the hangings, in such sort that what force soever they used to loose themselves, it was unpossible to get from under them. And presently he set fire in the four corners of the hall,,, [N]ot one escaped away but were forced to purge their sins by fire, and dry up the great aboundance of liquor by them received into their bodies, all of them dying in the unevitable and merciless flames of the hot and burning fire...
[K]nowing that his uncle before the end of the banquet had withdrawn himself into his chamber, which stood apart from the place where the fire burnt, [Hamlet] went thither, and entering into ye chamber, laid hand upon the sword of his father's murtherer, leaving his own in the place (which, while he was at the banquet, some of the courtiers had nailed fast into the scabberd); and going to Fengon said, "I wonder, disloyal king how thou canst sleep here at thine ease: and all thy pallace is burnt, the fire thereof having burnt ye greatest part of thy courtiers and ministers... and which is more, I cannot imagine how thou shouldst well assure thyself, and thy estate, as now to take thy ease, seeing Hamlet so near thee armed with the shafts by him prepared long since and at this preset is ready to revenge the traitorous injury, by thee done to his lord and father."
Fengon as the knowing ye truth of his nephew's subtle practise, and hearing him speak with stayed mind, and which is more, perceived a sword naked [in his] hand which he already lifted up to deprive him of his life, leaped quickly out of the bed, taking hold of Hamlet's sword, that was nailed into the scabbard, which as he sought to pull out, Hamlet gave him such a blow upon the chine of the neck, that he cut his head clean from his shoulders, and as he fell to the ground said: "This just and violent death is a first reward for such as thou art. Now go thy ways, and when thou comest in hell, see thou forget not to tell thy brother (who thou traitorously slewest) that it was his son that sent thee thither with the message, to the end that being comforted thereby, his soul may rest among the blessed spirits, and quit me of the obligation that bound me to pursue his vengeance upon mine own blood, that seeing it was by thee, that I left the chief thing that tied me to this alliance and consanguinity."
...The next morning the towns bordering thereabouts, desiring to know from whence the flames of fire proceeded the night before they had seen, came thither, and perceiving the king's palace burnt to ashes, and many bodies (most part consumed) lying among the ruins of the house, all of them were much abashed, nothing being left of the palace but the foundation: but they were much more amazed to behold the body of the king all bloody, and his head cut off lying hard by him; whereat some began to threaten revenge, yet not knowing against whom: others beholding so lamentable a spectacle armed themselves, the rest rejoicing, yet not daring to make any show thereof, some detesting the cruelty, others lamenting the death of their prince, but the greatest part calling Horvendile's murther to remembrance, acknowledging a just judgement from above, that had thrown down the pride of the Tyrant: and in this sort the diversities of opinions among that multitude of people, being many, yet every man ignorant what would be the issue of that tragedy, none stirred from thence, neither yet attempted to move any tumult, every man fearing his own skin, and distrusting his neighbour, esteeming each other to be consenting to the massacre.
CHAP. VI.
How Hamlet having slain his uncle, and burnt his Palace, made an Oration to the Danes, to show them what he had done: and how they made him king of Denmark, and what followed.
Hamlet then seeing ye people to be so quiet, and most part of them not using any words, all searching only and simply the cause of this ruin and destruction, not minding to loose any time, but aiding himself with the commodity thereof, entered among the multitude of people, and standing in the middle spake unto them, as followeth.
"If there be any among you (good people of Denmark) that as yet have fresh within your memories, the wrong done to the valiant king Horvendile, let him not be moved, nor think it strange to behold the confused, hideous and fearful spectacle of this present calamity. If there be any man that affecteth fidelity, and alloweth of the love and duty that man is bound to show his parents, and find it a just cause to call to remembrance the injuries and wrongs that have been done to our progenitors, let him not be ashamed beholding this massacre, much less offended to see so fearful a ruin both of men, and of the bravest house in all this country: for the hand that hath done this justice, could not effect it by any other means, neither yet was it lawful for him to do it otherwise, than by ruinating both sensible and unsensible things, thereby to preserve the memory of so just a vengeance.
"I see well (my good friends) and am very glad to know so good attention and devotion in you, that you are sorry (before your eyes) to see Fengon so murthered, and without a head, which heretofore you acknowledged for your commander: but I pray you remember, this body is not the body of a king, but of an execrable tyrant, and a parricide most detestable. Oh Danes, the spectacle was much more hideous, when Horvendile your king was murthered by his brother--what, should I say "a brother"? Nay rather, by the most abhominable executioner.... It was you that saw Horvendile's members massacred, and that with tears and lamentations accompanied him to the grave: his body disfigured, hurt in a thousand places, and misused in ten times as many fashions. ...
"O you Danes, remember, what love and amity Horvendile showed unto you, with what equity and justice he swayed the great affairs of this kingdom, and with what humanity and courtesy defended and cherished you, and then I am assured that the simplest man among you will both remember and acknowledge, that he had a most peaceable, just and righteous king taken from him, to place in his throne a tyrant and murtherer of his brother: one that hath perverted all right, abolished the ancient Laws of our fathers, contaminated the memories of our ancestors,...
"It is I (my good friends), it is I that confess I have taken vengeance for the violence done unto my lord and father, ... whereof I am the just and lawful successor. It is I alone, that have done this piece of work, ... I have burnt the bodies of the courtiers to ashes, being companions in the mischiefs and treasons of the tyrant, but I have left Fengon whole, that you might punish his dead carcase (seeing that when he lived you durst not lay hands upon him) to accomplish the full punishment and vengeance due unto him,... nor sacred tomb may be the restful habitation of the relics and bones of so detestable a man. Let not one trace of a parricide be seen, nor your country defiled with the presence of the least member of this tyrant without pity, that your neighbors may not smell the contagion, nor our land the polluted infection of a body condemned for his wickednes: ... Despise the ashes of him that hath polluted and violated the spouse of his brother, by him massacred, ... [and who] ... feared not to add incest to parricide, detestable to all the world,...
"It is I that have taken away the infamy of my country, and extinguished the fire that embraced your fortunes, I have washed the spots that defiled the reputation of the queen, overthrowing both the tyrant and the tyrany and beguiling the subtilties of the craftiest deceiver in the world, and by that means brought his wickedness and impostures to an end; ... but it is you that are to recompense those that have well deserved. You know what is the reward of so great desert, and being in your hands to distribute the same, it is of you that I demand the price of my virtue and the recompense of my victory."
This oration of the young prince so moved the hearts of the Danes, and wan the affections of the nobility, that some wept for pity other for joy, to see the wisedom and gallant spirit of Hamlet, and having made an end of their sorrow, all with one consent proclaimed him king of Juty and Chersonnese at this present the proper country of Denmark, and having celebrated his coronation, and received the homages and fidelities of his subjects, he went into England to fetch his wife, ...
CHAP. VII.
How Hamlet after his Coronation went into England, and how the king of England secretly would have put him to death, and how he slew the King of England: and returned again into Denmark with two wives [his first wife, the chaste princess of England, and a concubine, Hermetrude, the vampire-like queen of Scotland,]; and what followed. [omitted]
CHAP. VIII.
How Hamblet being in Denmark, was assailed by Wiglerus his uncle, and after betrayed by his last wife, called Hermetrude, and was slain: after whose death she married his enemy Wiglerus.
Hamlet having obtained the victory against the king of England, and slain him, laden with great treasures and accompanied with his two wives, set forward to sail into Denmark, but by the way he had intelligence, that Wiglere (his uncle, and son to Roderick), having taken the royal treasure from his sister Geruth (mother to Hamblet) had also seized upon the kingdom: saying, that neither Horvendile nor any of his held it but by permission, and that it was in him (to whom the property belonged) to give the charge thereof to whom he would. But Hamblet, not desirous to have any quarrel with the son of him from whom his predecessors had received their greatness and advancement, gave such and so rich presents to Wiglere, that he being contented withdrew himself out of the country and territories of Geruth's son. But within certain time after, ... Hermetrude (the wife of Hamlet, whom he loved more than himself) had secret intelligence with him and had promised him marriage, so he would take her out of the hands of him that held her. [Wiglere then] sent to defy Hamlet, and proclaimed open war against him.
Hamlet like a good and wise prince, loving especially the welfare of his subjects, sought by all means to avoid that war, but again refusing it, he perceived a great spot and blemish in his honor, and accepting the same, he knew it would be the end of his days: by the desire of preserving his life on the one side, and his honor on the other side pricking him forward; but at the last (remembering that never any danger whatsoever had once shaken his virtues and constancy), chose rather the necessity of his ruin, than to lose the immortall fame that valiant and honorable men obtained in the wars: and there is as much difference between a life without honor and an honorable death, as glory and renown is more excellent then dishonor and evil report.
But the thing that spoiled this virtuous Prince, was the over-great trust and confidence he had in his wife Hermetrude, and the vehement love he bare unto her, not once repenting the wrong in that case done to his lawful spouse, and for the which peradventure that misfortune had never happened unto him. And it would never have been thought that she whom he loved above all things would have so villainously betrayed him, he not once remembering his first wife's speeches, who prophesied unto him that the pleasures he seemed to take in his other wife would in the end be the cause of his overthrow--as they had ravished him of the best part of his senses, and quenched in him the great prudence that made him admirable in all the countries in the ocean seas...
[N]ow the greatest grief that this king (besotted on his wife) had was the separation of her whom he adored, and assuring himself of his overthrow, [she] was desirous, either that she might bear him company at his death, or else to find her a husband that should love her (he being dead) as well as ever he did. But the disloyal queen, had already provided herself of a marriage, to put her husband out of trouble and care for that--who, perceiving him to be sad for her sake, when she should have absented herself from him, she (to blind him the more, and to encourage him to set forward to his own destruction) promised to follow him whethersoever he went, and to take the like fortune that befell to him, were it good or evil, and that so she would give him cause to know how much she surpassed the Englishwoman in her affection towards him...
But by the effect it was after easily perceived, how vain the promise of this unconstant and wavering princess was, and how uncomparable the life of this Scottish Queen was to the vigor of [his English wife's] chastity, [she] being a maid before she was married. For that Hamlet had no sooner entered into the field, but [the Scottish Queen] found means to see Wiglere--and the battle begun wherein the miserable Danish Prince was slain: but Hermetrude presently yielded herself with all her dead husband's treasons into the hand of the tyrant: who, more than content with that metamorphosis so much desired, gave order that presently the marriage (bought with the blood and treasure of the son of Horvendile) should be celebrated....
Such was the end of Hamlet, son to Horvendile, Prince of Jutie; to whom if this Fortune had been equal with his inward and natural giftes, I know not which of the ancient Grecians and Romans had been able to have compared with him for virtue and excellency: but hard fortune following him in all his actions, and yet he vanquishing the malice of his time, with the vigor of constancy, hath left us a notable example of haughty courage, worthy of a great Prince, arming himself with hope in things that were wholly without any color or show thereof, and in all his honorable actions made himself worthy of perpetual memorie, if one only spot had not blemished and darkened a good part of his prayses. For that the greatest victory that a man can obtain is to make himself victorious and lord over his own affections, and that restraineth the unbridled desires of his concupiscence. For if a man be never so princely, valiant, and wise, if the desires and enticements of his flesh prevail, and have the upper hand, he will imbase his credit, and gazing after strange beauties become a fool, and (as it were) incensed, dote on the presence of women. This fault was in the great Hercules, Sampson, and the wisest man that ever lived upon the earth following this train, therein impaired his wit, and the most noble, wise, valiant and discreet personages of our time, following the same course have left us many notable examples of their worthy and notable virtues.
But I beseech you that shall read this History, not to resemble the Spider, that feedeth of the corruption that she findeth in the flowers and fruits that are in the gardens, whereas the Bee gathereth her honey, out of the best and fairest flower she can find: for a man that is well brought up should reade the lives of whoremongers, drunkards, incestuous, violent and bloody persons, not to follow their steps, and so to defile himself with such uncleanness, but to shun paliardize, abstain the superfluities and drunkenness in banquets, and follow the modesty, courtesy, and continency that recommendeth ... I delight to speak of these strange histories, and of people that were unchristened, that the virtue of the rude people may give more splendor to our nation who, seeing them so complete, wise, prudent, and well advised in their actions, might strive not only to follow (imitation being a small matter) but to surmount them as our religion surpasseth their superstition, and our age more purged subtle, and gallant, then the season wherein they lived and made their virtues known.
FINIS.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
from William Shakespeare, Hamlet
Act I, scene ii.
King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes. Time be thine,
And thy best graces spend it at thy will!
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son-
Hamlet. [aside] A little more than kin, and less than kind!
King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
Hamlet. Not so, my lord. I am too much i' th' sun.
Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off,
And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Do not for ever with thy vailed lids
Seek for thy noble father in the dust.
Thou know'st 'tis common. All that lives must die,
Passing through nature to eternity.
Hamlet. Ay, madam, it is common.
Queen. If it be,
Why seems it so particular with thee?
Hamlet. Seems, madam, Nay, it is. I know not 'seems.'
'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected havior of the visage,
Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief,
'That can denote me truly. These indeed seem,
For they are actions that a man might play;
But I have that within which passeth show-
These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
King. Why, 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,
To give these mourning duties to your father;
But you must know, your father lost a father;
That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound
In filial obligation for some term
To do obsequious sorrow. But to persever
In obstinate condolement is a course
Of impious stubbornness. 'Tis unmanly grief;
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,
A heart unfortified, a mind impatient,
An understanding simple and unschool'd;
For what we know must be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we in our peevish opposition
Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason most absurd, whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first corse till he that died to-day,
'This must be so.' We pray you throw to earth
This unprevailing woe, and think of us
As of a father; for let the world take note
You are the most immediate to our throne,
And with no less nobility of love
Than that which dearest father bears his son
Do I impart toward you. For your intent
In going back to school in Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our desire;
And we beseech you, bend you to remain
Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.
Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet.
I pray thee stay with us, go not to Wittenberg.
Hamlet. I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply.
Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come.
This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof,
No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell,
And the King's rouse the heaven shall bruit again,
Respeaking earthly thunder. Come away.
Flourish. Exeunt all but Hamlet.
Hamlet. O that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't! ah, fie! 'Tis an unweeded garden
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
But two months dead! Nay, not so much, not two.
So excellent a king, that was to this
Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on; and yet, within a month-
Let me not think on't! Frailty, thy name is woman!-
A little month, or ere those shoes were old
With which she followed my poor father's body
Like Niobe, all tears- why she, even she
(O God! a beast that wants discourse of reason
Would have mourn'd longer) married with my uncle;
My father's brother, but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules. Within a month,
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married. O, most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.
But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue!
=======
I.v.
Elsinore. The Castle. Another part of the fortifications.
Enter Ghost and Hamlet.
Hamlet. Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak! I'll go no further.
Ghost.Mark me.
Hamlet. I will.
Ghost.My hour is almost come,
When I to sulph'rous and tormenting flames
Must render up myself.
Hamlet. Alas, poor ghost!
Ghost.Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold.
Hamlet. Speak. I am bound to hear.
Ghost.So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.
Hamlet. What?
Ghost.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 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--
Hamlet. O God!
Ghost.Revenge his foul and most unnatural murther.
Hamlet. Murther?
Ghost.Murther most foul, as in the best it is;
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
Hamlet. Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift
As meditation or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.
Ghost.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.
Hamlet. O my prophetic soul!
My uncle?
Ghost.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 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 quicksilverr 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.
Hamlet. O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
Ghost.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 pursuest 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. Exit.
Hamlet. O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else?
And shall I couple hell? Hold, 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. [Writes.]
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word:
It is 'Adieu, adieu! Remember me.'
I have sworn't.
===========
Act III, scene iii.
A room in the Castle.
.....
King. O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
A brother's murther! Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as sharp as will.
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,
And, like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
But to confront the visage of offence?
And what's in prayer but this twofold force,
To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murther'?
That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
Of those effects for which I did the murther-
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
May one be pardon'd and retain th' offence?
In the corrupted currents of this world
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,
And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above.
There is no shuffling; there the action lies
In his true nature, and we ourselves compell'd,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then? What rests?
Try what repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it when one cannot repent?
O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
Art more engag'd! Help, angels! Make assay.
Bow, stubborn knees; and heart with strings of steel,
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
All may be well. He kneels.
Enter Hamlet.
Hamlet. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying;
And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven,
And so am I reveng'd. That would be scann'd.
A villain kills my father; and for that,
I, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.
Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge!
He took my father grossly, full of bread,
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And how his audit stands, who knows save heaven?
But in our circumstance and course of thought,
'Tis heavy with him; and am I then reveng'd,
To take him in the purging of his soul,
When he is fit and seasoned for his passage?
No.
Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent.
When he is drunk asleep; or in his rage;
Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed;
At gaming, swearing, or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in't-
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,
And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays.
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. Exit.
King.[rises] My words fly up, my thoughts remain below.
Words without thoughts never to heaven go. Exit.
========
Scene IV.
The Queen's closet.
Enter Queen and Polonius.
Polonius. He will come straight. Look you lay home to him.
Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with,
And that your Grace hath screen'd and stood between
Much heat and him. I'll silence me even here.
Pray you be round with him.
Hamlet. (within) Mother, mother, mother!
Queen. I'll warrant you; fear me not. Withdraw; I hear him
coming.
[Polonius hides behind the arras.]
Enter Hamlet.
Hamlet. Now, mother, what's the matter?
Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
Hamlet. Mother, you have my father much offended.
Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
Hamlet. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet?
Hamlet. What's the matter now?
Queen. Have you forgot me?
Hamlet. No, by the rood, not so!
You are the Queen, your husband's brother's wife,
And (would it were not so!) you are my mother.
Queen. Nay, then I'll set those to you that can speak.
Hamlet. Come, come, and sit you down. You shall not budge I
You go not till I set you up a glass
Where you may see the inmost part of you.
Queen. What wilt thou do? Thou wilt not murther me?
Help, help, ho!
Polonius. [behind] What, ho! help, help, help!
Hamlet. [draws] How now? a rat? Dead for a ducat, dead!
[Makes a pass through the arras and] kills Polonius.
Polonius. [behind] O, I am slain!
Queen. O me, what hast thou done?
Hamlet. Nay, I know not. Is it the King?
Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!
Hamlet. A bloody deed- almost as bad, good mother,
As kill a king, and marry with his brother.
Queen. As kill a king?
Hamlet. Ay, lady, it was my word.
[Lifts up the arras and sees Polonius.]
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
I took thee for thy better. Take thy fortune.
Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger.
Leave wringing of your hinds. Peace! sit you down
And let me wring your heart; for so I shall
If it be made of penetrable stuff;
If damned custom have not braz'd it so
That it is proof and bulwark against sense.
Queen. What have I done that thou dar'st wag thy tongue
In noise so rude against me?
Hamlet. Such an act
That blurs the grace and blush of modesty;
Calls virtue hypocrite; takes off the rose
From the fair forehead of an innocent love,
And sets a blister there; makes marriage vows
As false as dicers' oaths. O, such a deed
As from the body of contraction plucks
The very soul, and sweet religion makes
A rhapsody of words! Heaven's face doth glow;
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
With tristful visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act.
Queen. Ay me, what act,
That roars so loud and thunders in the index?
Hamlet. Look here upon th's picture, and on this,
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
See what a grace was seated on this brow;
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
A station like the herald Mercury
New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill:
A combination and a form indeed
Where every god did seem to set his seal
To give the world assurance of a man.
This was your husband. Look you now what follows.
Here is your husband, like a mildew'd ear
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes
You cannot call it love; for at your age
The heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble,
And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment
Would step from this to this? Sense sure you have,
Else could you not have motion; but sure that sense
Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err,
Nor sense to ecstacy was ne'er so thrall'd
But it reserv'd some quantity of choice
To serve in such a difference. What devil was't
That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind?
Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
Or but a sickly part of one true sense
Could not so mope.
O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,
If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax
And melt in her own fire. Proclaim no shame
When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
Since frost itself as actively doth burn,
And reason panders will.
Queen. O Hamlet, speak no more!
Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul,
And there I see such black and grained spots
As will not leave their tinct.
Hamlet. Nay, but to live
In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,
Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love
Over the nasty sty!
Queen. O, speak to me no more!
These words like daggers enter in mine ears.
No more, sweet Hamlet!
Hamlet. A murtherer and a villain!
A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings;
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole
And put it in his pocket!
Queen. No more!
Enter the Ghost in his nightgown.
Hamlet. A king of shreds and patches!-
Save me and hover o'er me with your wings,
You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?
Queen. Alas, he's mad!
Hamlet. Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
That, laps'd in time and passion, lets go by
Th' important acting of your dread command?
O, say!
Ghost.Do not forget. This visitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
But look, amazement on thy mother sits.
O, step between her and her fighting soul
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.
Speak to her, Hamlet.
Hamlet. How is it with you, lady?
Queen. Alas, how is't with you,
That you do bend your eye on vacancy,
And with th' encorporal air do hold discourse?
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
And, as the sleeping soldiers in th' alarm,
Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements,
Start up and stand an end. O gentle son,
Upon the beat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience! Whereon do you look?
Hamlet. On him, on him! Look you how pale he glares!
His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
Would make them capable.- Do not look upon me,
Lest with this piteous action you convert
My stern effects. Then what I have to do
Will want true colour- tears perchance for blood.
Queen. To whom do you speak this?
Hamlet. Do you see nothing there?
Queen. Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.
Hamlet. Nor did you nothing hear?
Queen. No, nothing but ourselves.
Hamlet. Why, look you there! Look how it steals away!
My father, in his habit as he liv'd!
Look where he goes even now out at the portal!
Exit Ghost.
Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain.
This bodiless creation ecstasy
Is very cunning in.
Hamlet. Ecstasy?
My pulse as yours doth temperately keep time
And makes as healthful music. It is not madness
That I have utt'red. Bring me to the test,
And I the matter will reword; which madness
Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul
That not your trespass but my madness speaks.
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
Whiles rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;
Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
And do not spread the compost on the weeds
To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue;
For in the fatness of these pursy times
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg-
Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good.
Queen. O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.
Hamlet. O, throw away the worser part of it,
And live the purer with the other half,
Good night- but go not to my uncle's bed.
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat
Of habits evil, is angel yet in this,
That to the use of actions fair and good
He likewise gives a frock or livery,
That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night,
And that shall lend a kind of easiness
To the next abstinence; the next more easy;
For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
And either [master] the devil, or throw him out
With wondrous potency. Once more, good night;
And when you are desirous to be blest,
I'll blessing beg of you.- For this same lord,
I do repent; but heaven hath pleas'd it so,
To punish me with this, and this with me,
That I must be their scourge and minister.
I will bestow him, and will answer well
The death I gave him. So again, good night.
I must be cruel, only to be kind;
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
One word more, good lady.
Queen. What shall I do?
Hamlet. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do:
Let the bloat King tempt you again to bed;
Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse;
And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses,
Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
Make you to ravel all this matter out,
That I essentially am not in madness,
But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know;
For who that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib
Such dear concernings hide? Who would do so?
No, in despite of sense and secrecy,
Unpeg the basket on the house's top,
Let the birds fly, and like the famous ape,
To try conclusions, in the basket creep
And break your own neck down.
Queen. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath,
And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
What thou hast said to me.
Hamlet. I must to England; you know that?
Queen. Alack,
I had forgot! 'Tis so concluded on.
Hamlet. There's letters seal'd; and my two schoolfellows,
Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd,
They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way
And marshal me to knavery. Let it work;
For 'tis the sport to have the enginer
Hoist with his own petar; and 't shall go hard
But I will delve one yard below their mines
And blow them at the moon. O, 'tis most sweet
When in one line two crafts directly meet.
This man shall set me packing.
I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room.-
Mother, good night.- Indeed, this counsellor
Is now most still, most secret, and most grave,
Who was in life a foolish peating knave.
Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you.
Good night, mother.
[Exit the Queen. Then] Exit Hamlet, tugging in
Polonius.
========
Act IV, scene iv
Hamlet. I'll be with you straight. Go a little before.
[Exeunt all but Hamlet.]
How all occasions do inform against me
And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
If his chief good and market of his time
Be but to sleep and feed? A beast, no more.
Sure he that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and godlike reason
To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on th' event,-
A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom
And ever three parts coward,- I do not know
Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do,'
Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means
To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me.
Witness this army of such mass and charge,
Led by a delicate and tender prince,
Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd,
Makes mouths at the invisible event,
Exposing what is mortal and unsure
To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
Even for an eggshell. Rightly to be great
Is not to stir without great argument,
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
When honour's at the stake. How stand I then,
That have a father klll'd, a mother stain'd,
Excitements of my reason and my blood,
And let all sleep, while to my shame I see
The imminent death of twenty thousand men
That for a fantasy and trick of fame
Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
Which is not tomb enough and continent
To hide the slain? O, from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! Exit.
=======
Act V, scene ii.
Hamlet [to Horatio]. 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 th' election and my hopes;
Thrown out his angle for my Proper life,
And with such coz'nage- 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?
.....................
Laertes. It is here, Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slain;
No medicine in the world can do thee good.
In thee there is not half an hour of life.
The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,
Unbated and envenom'd. The foul practice
Hath turn'd itself on me. Lo, here I lie,
Never to rise again. Thy mother's poison'd.
I can no more. The King, the King's to blame.
Hamlet. The point envenom'd too?
Then, venom, to thy work. Hurts the King.
All. Treason! treason!
King.O, yet defend me, friends! I am but hurt.
Hamlet. Here, thou incestuous, murd'rous, damned Dane,
Drink off this potion! Is thy union here?
Follow my mother. King dies.
Laertes. He is justly serv'd.
It is a poison temper'd by himself.
Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet.
Mine and my father's death come not upon thee,
Nor thine on me! Dies.
Hamlet. Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.
I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu!
You that look pale and tremble at this chance,
That are but mutes or audience to this act,
Had I but time (as this fell sergeant, Death,
Is strict in his arrest) O, I could tell you-
But let it be. Horatio, I am dead;
Thou liv'st; report me and my cause aright
To the unsatisfied.
Horatio. Never believe it.
I am more an antique Roman than a Dane.
Here's yet some liquor left.
Hamlet. As th'art a man,
Give me the cup. Let go! By heaven, I'll ha't.
O good Horatio, what a wounded name
(Things standing thus unknown) shall live behind me!
If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,
Absent thee from felicity awhile,
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
To tell my story.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
William Barksted Mirrha the Mother of Adonis (1607)
I sing the ruin of a beauteous maid,
White as my paper or Love’s fairest dove.
Shine, bright Apollo! Muse, be not afraid,
Although thou chantest of unnatural love.
Great is my quill to bring forth such a birth,
As shall abash the virgins of our earth.
Smoke, golden censors, upon Paphos shrine,
Drink deep, Lenæus, to this work of mine.
Cupid to Thracia went to hear a song
of Orpheus, to whom even tigers came, 10
And left their savage nature if there long
they did with his sweet melody remain.
Wolves lost their preys and, by signs, prayed him sing.
Beasts left the lion, and chose him their king.
Cecropian apes did on his music wait,
Yet of them all, not one could imitate.
/..../
Amongst the rest of Vesta-vowed Girls,
came Mirrha (whose thoughts no guile then knew)
Like a bright diamond circled with pearls,
whose radiant eye dealt luster to the hue 60
Of all the dames; whose face, so far above
the rest (though beauteous all) unwounded Love
Made love--for never since Spiches was made a star
did he see nature excel art so far.
He changed his shape, his wings he off hath torn,
and like a hunter to this nymph he came,
With gold-tipped javelin and a bugle horn
(such as they bear to make the lion tame):
First did he kiss her hand, which then did melt
with love's impression. Cupid the like felt. 70
Struck dumb, he stood in an unwonted guise,
such magic beauty carries in her eyes.
At length quoth he, "Should I not say I love,
I should both Cupid and his mother wrong:
By thee, fair maid, a power far above,
My heart is the true index of my tongue.
And by my naked words you may discover
I am not traded like a common lover.
Rare objects, rare abatements bred, ‘tis true:
And their effects are tried in me by you. 80
"My barren brain can bless me with no store
Of able epithets, so what praise I give
Makes not you richer, though it makes me poor.
Therefore in vain against the stream I strive,
Th' o’er-curious painter, meaning to excel,
Oft mars the work, the which before was well,
And he shall dazzled be, and tired soon,
That leveleth his shafts to hit the moon."
With this, she turned her blushing head aside
and veiled her face with lawn, not half so white 90
That even the blending roses were espied
Despite the clouds, that hid them in despite.
She threw her thin breath through the lawn and said,
"Leave, gentle youth, do not thus snare a maid.
I came to Orpheus’ song. Good then, forbear.
It is his tune, not yours, can charm mine ear."
"Let Orpheus learn," quoth he, "of thee to sing,
Bid him charm men, Mirrha, as thou can’st do!
Let him tame man, that is the lion’s king,
And lay him prostrate at his feet below. 100
As thou can’st do! Nor Orpheus nor the spheres
Have tones like thee, to ravish mortal ears.
Yea, were this Thracian harper judge to tell,
As thee, he’d swear he sung not half so well.
Nor dying swans, nor Phoebus when he loves,
equals thy voice, though he in music courts.
And as the God whose voice the firm earth moves
(making the terrors of the great his sports),
Whose first word struck, into the chaos, "Light"--
so if that contrary thou take delight, 110
at thy word, darkness would o’er-cloud the air
and the fairest day give place to thee, more fair.
Fame hath resigned her lasting trump to thee
as to the worthier. Then thy fame display!
Tell Venus thou art fairer far than she,
For thine own worth becomes thee best to say.
Time will stand still, the sun in motion stay,
Sirens be mute, to hear thee speak of Mirrha.
Thy voice, if heard in the low shades, should be
Would a third time fetch back Euridice. 120
Give ear, eternal wonder, to a swain,
Twas writ in stars that I should see that face--
And seeing, love, and in that love, be slain
if beauty pity not my wretched case.
Fortune and love, the stars and powers divine,
Have all betrayed me to those eyes of thine.
O prove not then more crueler than they--
Love’s shafts and Fate’s wheels--who hath power to stay."
"Stay there," quoth she, "give back those powers their own
or not impose their powerful force on me. 130
Have I the least word or the least glance thrown
To make you attribute what's destiny
unto my beauty? if Love and Fate you wound,
Throw vows to them, their altars are soon found.
Would’st thou have me pity before they do?
Love's blind, and Fortune's deaf. So am I, too.
"I know not love, sure ‘tis a subtle thing.
I, by these blushes that thy charms have raised,
T' allay more quiet, tell love’s little king
I serve a mistress he himself hath praised 140
(Though he envy), a rare and sacred flower
Whom he had will to wrong, but never power."
Now Cupid hangs the head, and melts in shame,
for she did utter Vesta’s holy name.
And as you see a woman teeming young
bearing the growing burthen of her womb,
Missing the dainty she hath looked for long,
falls straight in passionate sickness, pale and dumb
(for seeing she hath lost it), will not tell
for what she in this forced passion fell-- 150
So when his hopes were lost, he would not say
what was the cause, but this to her did lay:
"Virgin, beware that fire within thy breast!
To Vesta dedicate do not expire--
as she must wary be that is the best
to keep it! &endash;it is known no lasting fire,
The fuel, cold fruitless virginity--
which, if zeal blow not violent, will soon die:
This ‘stricts a virgin’s life, and who but knows
that love and chastity were ever foes? 160
"And if e’er love assail those virgin’s forts,
those ivory bulwarks that defend your heart,
Though he be king of sports, he never sports
whenas he wounds, but plays the tyrant’s part--
And so much more he will triumph o’er thee,
by how much thou content’st his deity:
I know you to be chaste, but yet, fair maid,
if e’er you love you’ll find what I have said.
"Sir," quoth she. "when I love, you shall be mine.
But know the time when you shall claim me yours: 170
When, as the fire extinct, is Vesta’s shrine,
and Venus leaves to haunt the Papheon bowers;
When men are perfect friends, tigers at peace,
Discord in heaven, and powers divine do cease,
when Fortune sleeps and the north star doth move,
When turtles leave to mourn their mates, I’ll love."
Ere this was ended, Orpheus’ song was done,
And all the virgins fell into their ranks,
Each took their leave of him, so did the sun,
who now was boasting to the western banks 180
and the wild beasts, who he had made more tame,
seemed to depart with reverence at his name.
Each one gave place to Mirrha as their duty,
She being preferred in state, first as in beauty.
Now Cupid of her his last leave doth take.
So have I seen a soul and body part--
He begs a chaste kiss for her mother’s sake,
and vows she shall be sovereign of his heart.
But whether he dissembling did it, or twas fate,
(As extremest love turns to the direst hate, 190
Being repulsed), but this kiss did inspire
her breast with an infernal and unnamed desire.
Night like a masque was entered heavens great hall
with thousand torches ushering the way.
The complements of parting were done all,
and homewards Orpheus chanteth many a lay;
Venus had sent her coach, drawn by a dove,
For little Cupid, the great god of love.
and this hath sprung (as men have sayen of yore)
For Mirrha’s sake he vowed to love no more. 200
Black as my ink now must my verse commence.
You blushing girls, and parents silver-gray,
As far as trace from us, so far from hence
go, that you may not hear me say:
A daughter did with an adulterous head
And heavy lust press down her father’s bed!
Such songs as these more fit the Tartars’ cares.
Had Orpheus sung it, beasts had poured out tears.
Unhallowed Lust--for Love lies drowned in poison--
in what black ornament shall I attire thee, 210
Since I must write of thy so-sad confusion?
shall I say Cupid with his brand did fire thee,
Accuse the Fates, or thee shall I accuse?
Mirrha weeps yet. Only say this, my Muse:
wise destiny, true love, and mortal thought,
would ne’er confirm this. This, the Furies brought.
She loves her father. Daughter ne’er loved so!
--for as her mother loved, so loved she him,
Thirsting in fire those softer sweets to know,
Amidst whose waves, Venus in pride doth swim. 220
So young she was, yet that her father kissed her.
Which she so duly looks for. He ne’er missed her,
Yet could he have conceived, as he did after,
those kisses relish much unlike a daughter!
Give to her gold of Ophire, Indian shells,
Clothe her with Tyrian purple, skin of beast;
Perfume her ways with choice Arabian smells,
Present her with the Phoenix in her nest,
Delight her ear with song of poets rare--
All these with Cyneas might naught compare. 230
(The comfort of the mind being ta’en away,
Nectar not pleaseth, nor Ambrosia.)
The feast of Bacchus at this present time
Was by the giddy Menades intended;
There Mirrha danced, and Orpheus sung in rhyme,
crowned with green thirses. Now the triumph’s ended.
With praise to Bacchus all depart with sprite
unto their feasts, feasts that devour the night.
for lo, the stars, in travail in the sky,
brought forth their brightness to each waking eye 240
High midnight came, and she to bedward hies,
pretending rest, to beguile nature’s rest:
Anon the gloomy gallery she spies,
toward her chamber, and she first that blest--
Her care-filled eyes, her father’s picture was,
Framed but the face. Although it dumb, alas,
she asked and if he called? Seeing no reply,
she answered for her father, and said "Aye."
"Daughter," quoth she, "why art thou thus alone?
Let doves so mourn, girl, that hath lost their mates 250
Thine is to come, then prithee, cease thy moan.
Care should not dwell with great and high estates.
Let her that needs and is not fair at all,
Repine at Fortune. Love shall be thy thrall,
winged as he is, and armed. Thou shalt see,
I have the power to give, and give him thee."
"Father," quoth she (and spoke with smaller voice),
"Nature hath made me yours, yours I must be:
You choose my choice, for in you lies my choice&endash;"
Hereat she starts, as what not fears the guilty? 260
Thinking the shadow knew her double sense,
and blushing, in strange fear departeth thence.
blaming herself, for uttering her black fault
to him who armed stood ‘gainst her assault.
Anon she spies many a youthful lord,
In several tables, each in several guise,
Whose pictures they had sent with one accord,
To show their manly features to her eyes,
Whose dumbed persuasive images were placed,
To see if any in her looks were graced: 270
But here, in vain, their fair assays do prove,
for had they spake, they could not win her love.
Over her mother’s shape a veil she drew,
and weeping, said, "May I ne’er see thee more!
Poor abused image, dost not turn thy hue
to see so foul an object thee before?
Didst thou but know what's sprung from out thy womb
thy shape could speak, whilst you thyself stoodst dumb!
Art would claim Nature in thy heavy woes,
thy shape have limbs, thy limbs be stiff as those. 280
Anon she leapt on it with ardent heat,
and, full of tears, yet falls upon her back,
Wishing (even in that grief) the lustful feat,
Were now performed, women oft longings lack.
Down sunk the down, and with so deep impress
that had Hermaphroditus been there he might guess
Salmacis were again his prostitute,
or one more fair, than to deny her suit.
A strange conceit had now possessed her brain,
Nigh equal to her lust, thought innocent: 290
She gave up to desire, and leaps amain,
From the bruised bed, with bloody-framed intent
To hang herself. O me, most woeful theme!
She now espied an high and sturdy beam.
(Many have lived to an unpitied death,
who might have died sometimes with famed breath.)
Yet doth she think what terror death would be
and on her heart imprints his character:
Fain would she die--yet first would pleased be
with damned lust, which death could not deter. 300
"O sin," says she, "thou must be Nature’s slave,
In spite of Fate, go to a pleasing grave.
When I have sinned, send, Jove, a thunderstroke
and spare thy chosen tree, the harmless oak."
She thinks again, and sees nor time nor place,
to quench the thirstiness of her parched blood:
Time still ran on, with an averted face,
and nothing but her passions did her good.
This thought confounds her, and she is resolved
In death’s bleak azure arms to be involved. 310
Fates, you are women, save your modesties--
She’ll kill herself, you need but close her eyes.
And like as when some sudden ecstasy
seizeth the nature of a sickly man,
When he's discerned to swoon, straight by and by
folk by his help confusedly have ran--
And seeking with their art to fetch him back,
so many throng that he the air doth lack--
so Mirrha's thoughts confusedly did stound her,
some adding comfort, whilst the rest confound her. 320
Like to a fountain’s head, so showed her head,
from whence since passion first took hold of her
Two springs did run through each flower-filled mead
and at her lips stayed--where she wished Cynir
Would so have done! Her face with tears ran o’er,
Like Heba’s nectar showed, spilt on heaven’s floor.
For as the blooms in May the dewdrops bears,
so Mirrha's cheeks looked, sprinkled with her tears.
Her hair--that with such diligence was used
To be combed up and did like clouds appear: 330
Where many spangles, star-like, were infused
To attend the luster of so-bright chair,
Whose beams, like bright Arachne’s web composed,
Taught Pallas a new envy--now unloosed,
hiding her face, yet making it seem rarer,
as blazing Comet’s train makes the star fairer.
Despair, that teaches holy ones to die
when as affliction ministers her part,
Had breathing now in Mirrha, and well nigh,
Like Venus, made her grasp a flaming heart. 340
Cupid was born at Etna, a hot sprite,
Whose violence takes edge off from delight.
For men deep-loving oft themselves so waste,
that proffered dainties, they want power to taste.
Digress no farther, lest thou prove obscene,
but tell by this how Nurse had broke the door,
And trembling both through age and fear,
Forgot the natural sense she had before,
Yet with her outcries from the shades of death,
called Mirrha’s sprite home with unwilling breath 350
re-enters flesh, scorning to give it grace,
with wonted beauty that adorned her face.
She took the halter, and held up her chin,
chafing her temples with a violent heat:
Making her soul return with torments in,
as it went out, being come unto retreat.
Nurse heaved her trembling body on the bed,
Where sinking as in grave, she seemed dead.
(Chaste had my verse been, blessed, Mirrha’s hap,
if here my pen could write thy epitaph.) 360
When having gotten ope her heavy eyes,
life mocking death, with a fresh crimson hue
she thus bespake: "If there be sorceries,
Philters, enchantments, any fury new
That can inspire with irreligious fire
The breast of mortal, that untamed desire
Possesseth me! and all my body’s merit
Shows like a fair house, haunted with a spirit.
"The four-and-twenty winds are not so fierce
as what doth blow the fuel in my breast: 370
Not the soft oil, Apollo did disperse,
on Phaeton’s brow, to keep his sun-beamed crest
From face of heavenly fires, could ought prevail
‘Gainst raging brands which my poor heart assail.
Scorched with material flames, we soon do die
and to purge sins, we embrace purgatory.
"But this, a heat that nor in life or death,
can render any humor but despair:
Nor can it with the short cut of my breath,
Take hence my shame, that shall survive mine heir; 380
Nor can the act, after tis done, content,
But brings with it eternal punishment,
lesseneth the pleasure of the world to come,
gives the judge leave, and strikes the guilty dumb."
The jealous nurse did apprehend her strait,
yet would extract the quintessence of all:
"And therefore, child," quoth she, "use no deceit,
but tell me freely whence these tears do fall.
I am thy nurse, and from my aged breast
Thou hadst thy second being, tell the rest. 390
I do conjure thee, by these silver hairs,
which are grown white, the sooner in their cares.
"If any orped witch of Thessaly,
have power upon thee, gentle-girl, relate:
Or if thou have prophaned some deity,
wee shall some mystic fires propagate.
To atone with them or if with barbarous hand
devoid of thy first chastity thou stand:
unfold to me: griefs uttered find redress:
fires undiscerned burn the more pitiless. 400
"Or if the sun of beauty shoot at thee
his fiery shafts, O tell me and the rather,
Because thy confidence shall answered be,
With this my child I’ll hide it from thy father&endash;"
As doth a dying man hold fast what so he grasps,
so she her fervent arms ‘bout her Nurse clasps,
and nuzzles once more twixt those dugs her face
whilst o’er those islands flow salt tears apace.
That word of "father" was like Perseus’ shield,
to make the poor maid stone. Now nurse doth threat, 410
unless she will in gentle manner yield,
she would tomorrow show how in a heat
She would have made away her desperate life,
and she must tell the man that forced that strife
within her breast. Through fear she thus did frame
and made her tongue the trumpet of her shame--
Her voice half-stopped with sighs (O fatal voice)
pronounced these words, yet did the accents fail:
"How blessed is my mother in her choice,
How fully she with nature did prevail!" 420
This said, her blushing face sinks in her shroud
like Cynthia muffled in an envious cloud.
When lo, the dying taper in his tomb,
gave darkness to itself and to the room.
Now had she time to wail, and well she might,
Guilty of sorrow, there might you have seen--
As glow-worms add a tincture to the night,
Glimmering in pallid fire upon some green,
mixt with the dew--so did her eyes appear,
Each golden glance joined with a dewy tear, 430
oft shut her eyes, like stars that portend ill,
with bloody deluge, they their orbs did fill.
The Nurse amated with the latter words,
whose aged hairs stood up like silver wire,
Knew speech was vain where will the scope affords--
and whispering softly, says, "Child, thy desire
I’ll put into thy arms, sleep, seize thy head,
Tis now night’s noon, all but the stars seem dead,
Our vanities like fireworks will ascend,
until they break, uncertain where to end." 440
Never did mortal with a vicious thought
wish to bring vices embryon to a form,
But still the Prince of Darkness to them brought
occasion’s forelock, which they off have torn.
Sin like a cedar shadows all our good
Whilst virtue’s bounded like a narrow flood.
As see now, how the occasion of misfortune
Mirrha's much abused-mother did importune.
Now came the time, of Ceres’ sacred rite,
and mysteries, when all wives young and old 450
Clothed in veils, all of transparent white,
Kneel to her, and to the Attic priest unfold,
The firstlings of the field-wreathed gilded corn,
Chaplets of dill, plucked in a blushing morn,
And many such, nor may they husbands see,
In nine days, till they end their mysterie.
Now nurse was double-diligent, watching her time
and told old Cyniras a lovely maid
Sighed for him: and still with cups of wine
betwixt each word his palate she assayed. 460
Heated with wines, he bad the Nurse repaid,
and bring to him the maid that was so fair.
Bacchus and Venus, Wine and frolic lust,
are sworn to blood, and keep together must.
Mirrha no sooner heard this glad reply,
but as a poor bird long time in a snare,
Ready for famine and her woe to die,
whom an unskillful fowler unaware
hath given freedom, to her food doth haste,
so Mirrha thought each hour an age was past:
In her strict torment; but being scaped away, 470
her woes forgot, she thinks upon her prey.
And as she did ascend those stairs to lust,
in the midway, she heard her father speak:
And ne’er lay partridge closer to the dust,
at sound o' the falcon’s bell than she, too weak
To encounter or resist: and fears are such,
in love by Love, that they increase love much.
Love (like to monarchs) hath his state high-reared
(who ever will be loved where they are feared). 480
To a hundred several passions she doth yield,
and as we see in autumn of the year
Some gallant oak stand ready to be felled,
upon whose ribs a hundred wounds appear
Forced by the brawny arms of hinds unlithe,
who works a passage to the weeping pith:
uncertain (though wind-shaken) where to fall:
so stood her mind doubtful of rest at all.
Nurse opes the door, and brings her to the bed
the darkness of the night abated shame: 490
And leaves her that must leave her maidenhead
to the begetter of his own defame,
With faltering hams having got twixt the sheets
In fearful lust this prodigia meets.
He begs a kiss. Then blushed she as he spake it.
Yet he must give it--she wants power to take it.
Now trembling lay she by her father’s side,
like silly dove within the eagle’s grip:
Nor doth she use soft shrikes as doth a bride
(I mean a maid) when as the fruit so ripe 500
Of maidenhead, is forced from their womb.
Her father’s arms to her was as a tomb;
she, dead in pleasure, durst not show her voice,
lest Cyniras should know this fair-foul choice.
But when that Cupid once had whetted her,
she twines her lily stalks about his neck:
So clings young ivy ‘bout the aged oak there,
Venus smiles, but frowning Juno checks.
Their stolen delight no nuptial tapers shone,
No Virgin belt untied, but all undone, 510
The Athenian God, kindled no hallowed fires.
Dark was the night, suiting to their desires.
The morrow came, toiled with wakes and lust.
She leaves her father whenas the rising Sun.
Covering the eastern pines and mountain dust,
spied Mirrha from her couch of sin to run.
Then blushed he first, and backward would ha’ fled
And ever since in's rising he's still red,
Ne’er Turk as was at sick blood more estranged,
than Mirrha when her chastity was changed.
Oft would she lean against her father’s knees,
and tie his garter in a true-love's knot:
And then undo't again, as to show she
were undone, yet he conceived it not
And women like that, keep not secrets long.
she showed her love in dumb-sh ows without tongue,
her lust she knew (yet hardly it concealed )
like fairies’ treasure's vanished if revealed.
A third night came, darker than shores below,
when Cyniras (father of fearful lust) 530
Willing to see the soul that did bestow
So many pleasures on him (Jove is just)
Did reach a taper, whose confusive light,
Struck like a blasting at that horrid sight,
The light fell from him loathing his defame,
things senseless oft are moaned, when men not shame
At length with bloody eye fixed on her,
out of an ivory scabbard hanging by:
He drew a monumental scimitar,
Thinking with death that both their shames should die 540
But night, that oft befriended her with sin,
In her black womb too, did her freedom win,
For through the dark she slipped and left her sire
to mourn his Fate, not execute his ire.
Sped with her lust, and flying thence apace,
in fears and trembling, fear doth give us eyes:
For safety to the gods, she lifts her face,
and her clasped hands to what she now not see's,
loves brow was dark, Boetes had amain
Driven his oxen to the lower plain. 550
Phebæ fled heaven, her face no tincture bears,
Because she saw a deed, worthy her tears.
The morning came, where yet the fatal print
of Mirrha lay upon the pillow: Cynix he
Clogged with distress, a father’s curse did hint,
upon that place of foul inchastity,
the sight of what we loathe, breeds loathing more
and virtue once renounced engenders store,
Leave we him touzed in care, for (worldly) we
love to leave great men in their misery. 560
Seven winters’ nights she fled before the moon
(who knew the unchaste act she had enforced)
Through Araby, in fear she posteth soon,
To odorous Panchaia, whose confines divorced
Her father’s land: here grew all choicest fumes
That to Jove’s temples often men presumes:
and on his altars them accumulate,
and how they first sprung, hear thereof the Fate:
Hebæ (now banished from th' Aetherian bowl)
upon a feast day ‘mongst the gods above,
Where twas made lawful, all without control
might freely drink, it chanced the Queen of love
(Whether she longed, or envied Hebæ’s star--
(Women are envious, where they long for nectar)
forced her to drink so much, the juice ran o’er,
so that Jove’s drink washed the defiled floor.
With this he stormed, that'is Priests from altars fly,
straight banished Hebæ, and the world did think
To a second chaos they should turned be.
the clouds for fear wept out th' immortal drink 580
and on Panchaia there this nectar fell,
Made rich th' adjacent lands with odorous smell,
and such rare spices to the shores are given,
as Jove would think no nectar were in heaven.
There was a Satyr rough and barbarous,
pleasing his palate at a trembling spring:
under a beech with boughs frondiferous,
though he had seen a nymph or rarer thing
Than flesh and blood for in the calmed stream,
He saw her eyes like stars, whose rays did gleam 590
‘Bove Phoebus far, and so amazed stood,
as if she had been goddess of that flood.
and as you see a man that hath been long
Possessed with a fury of the shades:
after some prayers and many a sacred song,
with blessed signs; the evil spirit vades,
so fell his rudeness from him; and her shine
Made all his earthy parts pure and divine.
O potent love, great is thy power befallen,
That makes the wise, mad, and the madman calm! 600
Thus he begins: "Fairer than Venus far,
If Venus be, or if she be, tis thee:
Lovely as lilies, brighter than the star
that is to earth the morning’s Mercury:
Softer than Roses, sweeter breathed than they,
blushed ‘bove Aurora, better clothed than May.
lipped like a cherry , but of rarer taste,
Divine as Dian, and as fully chaste.
Pardon my rude tongue, if I chance to err--
as Hermes self might err, being the god 610
of eloquence!&endash;for your bright eye doth bear
all earthly blessings in a fair abode.
Excuse me if I trip. I mean your weal--
Error's no error, where tis done with zeal.
Love like material fires is made to flame.
When tis suppresed. With fanning, fires first came.
With this, the maid (so took) hung down her head
wondering that such a shape had such a tongue--
able to steal her love, had she not fled,
and from his ardent grips her body wrung, 620
Flying like Phebæ after strucken deer;
and as he followed, she fled more for fear.
Zephyr came forth to dally with her hair,
while the poor Satyr cried, "Stay, maid so fair!"
But he on sudden, like a subtle snake,
Rolled in a heap, shoots forth himself at length:
and to his vigorous arms greedy doth take
his yielding prey, won with his words, not strength.
To be a woman is by nature given,
But to be constant is a star which heaven 630
Hath sealed on their sex’s forehead, as a sign
That constancy in women is divine.
Thou didst deceive me, Mirrha, when I said
thou flew'st for fear. Thou gav'st me cause to fear,
and I might justly have this ‘gainst thee laid,
thou wentst t'avoid by paths that were so near.
Who begin ill, most often end in ill,
and she that doth her first pure youth so spill
In lawless lust though made a wife to one,
Remains like wax for each impression. 640
But see the goodness of the deities,
who still with grace prevents our ill presage,
This grove was hallowed to no Hiadres,
but chaste Diana, who with violent rage
Descending from her tower of crystalline,
To keep the place still sacred and divine,
against her rites brought with her thereupon
white poplar from the banks of Acheron:
Then with a charm that did her face eclipse,
And made her crescent quake, the juice she powers 650
upon the Satyr’s face and profane lips,
which quickly over all his body showers,
Her borrowed power of art being finished:
(Derived from Phoebus as her light) she said
Nine times the holy theme which, spoke, will clear
all prophane matter, and this spake she there.
"Sleep, Poplar, sleep--that was the Satyr’s name,
who had been long a king within these woods--
Since thou my sacred grove ‘gan to profane,
A sleep seize on thee, still as Stygian floods. 660
by Styx, I vow the partial destinies,
Did they conspire, should ne’er unclasp thine eyes."
Having thus said, the Satyr vanished so,
as men’s prospect that from a mirror go.
"I think," quoth she, "accursed is this place,
for here the man, for whom I sorrow now,
Heedless Acteon with immodest face,
saw all our naked, and did over-view
As men rich jewels do, thinking there lies
yet some rare virtue hidden from their eyes: 670
And even there," quoth she (and then did point),
"revenged, I saw his hounds tear joint from joint.
"But since," says she, "thou as a king didst reign,
and art a trophy too of Dian’s power:
Thus much the goddess of the floods doth deign wood
to change thy shape, into a vertic flower."
Then thrice three words, thrice striking charmed
The ground did cranny, and there out of hand,
appeared green Poplar, younger then before,
which bowed the head and Dian did adore. 680
The pale-faced Mirrha sat like guilty sprite,
fore the infernal judge, yet did not see
Diana great, for dull are mortals’ sight,
(and all invisible is chastity)
But heard a voice as she was vanishing,
saving defiled maid, dost wonder at this thing.
"O Mirrha, e’er my crescent’s beauty change,
thou shalt be turned into a shape as strange."
With this, the verdant new-sprung Poplar plant
(moved with the wind) seemed to bow down the head 690
as cheering Mirrha, who did comfort want,
being amazed at what Diana said,
Having recovered sense, she flies the place,
For fear of Phebæ’s coming to the chase:
to Saba-land she hies--where, all afraid,
my Muse shall sing the downfall of the Maid.
Then first hung down Poplar his heavy brain
for Mirrha's loss, whose love brought him that
And for he once in woods a King did reign,
a crown he still wears, richly wrought with blue 700
and yellow eke, as figures both of love,
Which Venus dropped down him from above.
Bacchus doth love him, for in feasts of wine,
She wears a poplar garland mixed with vine.
The leaden god of sleep, on his juice feeds.
The virtues of him, sundry do declare.
His sudden taste a heaviness doth breed,
and drowns in rest, senses oppressed with care,
In places far remote, he loves to grow,
And eke by rivers that run thick and slow, 710
where drowsily this woodish demigod,
with every gale of wind his head doth nod.
Now to proceed after a small repose,
that the accursed seed ‘gan swell her womb,
when her dry brain, no more tears could expose,
she waiting for a sad and heavy doom.
For often men offending, still do fear,
Though Jove be far off, yet his judgement’s near.
down would she sit, and so unfold her moan,
that Echo sighed hers, and forgot her own. 720
Distressed twixt the tediousness of life
and trembling fear of death, she thus began
(For when we cease to be, the crimes are rife
which youth committed, and before us then,
For aged memory doth clasped contain
Those shapes of sin which hot blood held as vain):
"O cursed Fates," quoth she, "that brought to pass
this prodigy twixt me and Cyniras.
"O leave to leap for joy, thou pretty child,
to hear of Cyniras--or I’ll leave rather 730
To speak of him whose bed I have defiled,
and made him prove thy grandsire and thy father.
Was I predestined to select no other,
But fated for the sister and the mother?
Of thee, my babe, heaven here hath been sinister--
the child shall call his grandsire, ‘son’; his mother, ‘sister.’
"Oft do two roses grow out from one stem,
and one of them is full-blown fore the other,
So fares it now with thee, my virgin gem,
whom nature would call ‘son’ but shame says ‘brother.’ 740
Shall I not blush when thou art ripe, to gather
The circumstances of who was thy father?
yes, sure I shall, yet shame forgets all shame--
I’ll charge thy father of a heavenly name.
"But oh, I fear me lest some prodigy,
the heavens agree, that I too light should bring:
to fright e’en the Iron Age, that chastity
might take example by my suffering.
That I a monster-mother should be made,
If so, O over-equal gods, let Mirrha fade 750
into some shape worthy your high device,
Pity to me, would make Jove seem unwise.
"Alter, O gods, death that is due to birth,
nor let the dead repine, that I should see
Elizium’s blest shades, nor the men of earth
annoided be with my impurity,
Let them enjoy the fields, and learned songs
Of high-browed Orpheus. Let the unfleshed throngs
--that have deserved this and much more--be glad
my stars, my double life, and fate, are sad.
"You wearied race of Danan’s unblest girls,
In vain leave off your unwombed tubs to fill,
and with your tears that stained the Indian pearls,
Weep out for Mirrha, and ere night you will
at my sad story o’erbrim, with your tears,
Your whirlpool vessels, which so many years
returned no interest. If you well deplore,
you'll drown in tears, or labor so no more.
"Conclude my fate, quick, you eternal counsel,
or else I fear the ne’er-returned dead,
Clad in the fearful shapes of night and hell,
will rise before the general day be spread
and hurry me in flesh to Acheron,
To taste hell’s torture both in soul and bone.
Then blast me, Thunderer, in righteous ire,
and I like Semele will meet thy fire."
The gods to her last wish was tractable,
her tongue percullissed twice was as she spake:
air was her voice, and Mirrha now not able,
to thank the gods--her joints in sunder brake.
Leaves were her locks, of golden hair bereaved;
her arms, long boughs, deem and be not deceived.
Tree ‘gan she be, yet twixt her thing so stayed,
you could not say she was or tree or maid.
First grew her hair up like the summer corn,
or as a blazing star, whose streams rise upward
and being changed, fell leaves, that up were borne
by the rude winds. Yet had you but have heard,
You'd swear a sigh for Mirrha's transmigration
Had been decreed by all the windy nation
And every autume since, a thing most rare--
The falling leaves resemble Mirrha's hair.
To bark, her ivory skin polished congealed,
each blue-ridged current into melting sap,
Her nails to blossoms fair, and what revealed
with accents sad, the babe yet in her lap.
Her fingers, twigs; her bright eye, turned to gum,
Buried on earth, and her own self the tomb;
her senses gone, yet this sense did she win:
to aye relent the horror of her sin.
For even as from a guilty man that's pleading for remorse
tears follow tears, as hoping to prevail,
So from this tree, (though now a senseless corse)
flow precious tears as seems she doth bewail
In death, with ever-living tears, the act fore-done
These pious drops, made densive by the sun,
are kept for holy uses, and the myrrh
That so distills doth bear the name of her.
The misbegotten baby swells the tree,
and (loathing the defiled womb) sought vent:
Those pangs that mothers have felt, she
and solemn sighs had issue, as they'd rent,
and spoil the shape, she newly had assumed.
But words within the close bark were inhumed
Yet wept it out, as it to water would,
Or seemed it mocked Pactolus’ waves of gold.
Till chaste Lucina--whom the poets give
The midwives’ power in producing creatures,
by whose change we last die, and first do live,
(be they not violent each), she that gives features
Form or takes away, makes foul or fair,
Descending from her sphere next to our air--
with arms y-spread, upon the melting myrrh,
brought divine comfort down from heaven with her.
Few words she spake (but every syllable
of power, to comfort the afflicted ghosts,
Or any other senseless thing make able
do better deeds than those Alcides boasts),
the tree straight cranes, and springs forth the child
who the first minute, though his countenance smiled
cried out amain. (Our first prophetic breath
shows our first hour is mother to our death.)
The water-nymphs then caught him tenderly,
who laid him straight on the enameled banks,
and bathed him with his mothers tears, whereby
they made him fairer, and in merry pranks
The ladies call a convocation there,
Some praise his nose, his lips, his eye, his ear,
Some his straight fingers, whilst a fifth doth swear
his very breath yet smelleth of the myrrh.
Another wishes, oh, for such a face!
Nor can I blame her though she did wish so:
For sure, were I a wench, ‘t had been my case,
for Nature here made both her joy and woe,
And spite that (but herself) commendeth none,
Of force must say, this was a rarer one
Than either Nature did, or e’er shall make--
whose life, holds up her age; whose death's, her wrack
Eyes like two stars fallen from their proper spheres
as if they scorned the beaten paths of heaven:
Or envying of beauty of the bears,
shone firmer here, and brighter than the Seven.
Such was he as was Cupid wont to be
In pictures limmed, and that they may agree,
furnish the babe with wings and quiver light,
or from Love’s god, take wings and quier quite.
Nought may compare with time in his swift race
the babe erewhile feels now youth’s hot alarms
And as in years, so beauteous grew his face,
that he is fit again for ladies’ arms:
Nor Cupid now could wound more dames than he,
That Venus, who captives all, is not free.
From her own power, she loves Adonis mild,
That Mars doth storm, and wish he were no child.
Nor Paphos, Amathus, nor fishy Gnide
delights she now to haunt, nor Etna now
Burns more than her. She roams the wood so wide
after her game, that to his game doth bow--
And will not hear or see, for eyes and ears
If they her hear or see, their use forbears.
Yet she pursues, and leaves her power uneven
on heaven and earth. She loves him more than heaven.
Oft would she say, and bathe those words in tears
"Oh, thou fair boy, would God thou lov’st like me,
but sure thou art not flesh, it well appears
thou wert the stubborn issue of a tree,
So hard thou art!" Then she a sigh would fet,
and wish that Vulcan had not made his net
For boist’rous Mars--she'd fainer ha' been sped
with this choice flower, clasped in her iron bed.
She'd ne’er have blushed. Then she does make a vow
though all the gods of both worlds had then seen--
She raveth that, [had she never] loved till now,
that she might worthily ha’ been "Love’s Queen."
"Well, well," quoth she, "thou hast revenged the spite
which from my accurst son’s bow did foully light
On thy fair mother. O immortal boy,
Though thou be fair, tis I that should be coy."
But stay, my Muse, in thine own confines keep,
and wage not war with so dear-loved a neighbor
But having sung thy day song, rest and sleep
preserve thy small fame and his greater favor:
His song was worthy merit (Shakespeare he)
sung the fair blossom, thou the withered tree
Laurel is due to him, his art and wit
hath purchased it, Cypress thy brow will fit.
FINIS.
======================================================
fr. William Shakespeare, PERICLES PRINCE OF TYRE
fr. Prologue by Gower
Act 1, scene 1.
[Enter GOWER.]
[Before the palace of Antioch.]
GOWER.
To sing a song that old was sung,
From ashes ancient Gower is come;
Assuming man's infirmities,
To glad your ear and please your eyes.
/ ... /
This Antioch, then, Antiochus the Great
Built up this city for his chiefest seat,
The fairest in all Syria.
I tell you what mine authors say:
This king unto him took a fere
Who died and left a female heir,
So buxom, so blithe, and full of face,
As heaven had lent her all his grace;
With whom the father liking took,
And her to incest did provoke--
Bad child! Worse father, to entice his own
To evil should be done by none!
But custom what they did begin
Was, with long use, account no sin.
The beauty of this sinful dame
Made many princes thither frame
To seek her as a bed-fellow,
In marriage-pleasures play-fellow--
Which to prevent, he made a law
To keep her still, and men in awe:
That whoso ask'd her for his wife,
His riddle told not, lost his life.
So for her many a wight did die,
As yon grim looks do testify [points to skulls hanging about]
What now ensues, to the judgement your eye
I give my cause who best can justify.
[Exit.]
SCENE I. Antioch. A room in the palace.
[Enter ANTIOCHUS, PRINCE PERICLES, and followers.]
ANTIOCHUS.
Young prince of Tyre, you have at large received
The danger of the task you undertake.
PERICLES.
I have, Antiochus, and, with a soul
Embolden'd with the glory of her praise,
Think death no hazard in this enterprise.
ANTIOCHUS.
Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride
For the embracements even of Jove himself!--
At whose conception, till Lucina reign'd,
Nature this dowry gave to glad her presence:
The senate-house of planets all did sit,
To knit in her their best perfections.
[Music. Enter the daughter of Antiochus.]
PERICLES
See where she comes, apparell'd like the spring,
Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king
Of every virtue gives renown to men!
Her face the book of praises, where is read
Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence
Sorrow were ever rased, and testy wrath
Could never be her mild companion.
You gods that made me man, and sway in love,
That have inflamed desire in my breast
To taste the fruit of yon celestal tree,
Or die in the adventure, be my helps,
As I am son and servant to your will,
To compass such a boundless happiness!
ANTIOCHUS.
Prince Pericles, --
PERICLES.
That would be son to great Antiochus.
ANTIOCHUS.
Before thee stands this fair Hesperides--
With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd;
For death-like dragons here affright thee hard:
Her face, like heaven, enticeth thee to view
Her countless glory, which desert must gain;
And which, without desert, because thine eye
Presumes to reach, all thy whole heap must die.
Yon sometimes famous princes, like thyself,
Drawn by report, adventurous by desire,
Tell thee, with speechless tongues and semblance pale,
That without covering, save yon field of stars,
Here they stand martyrs, slain in Cupid's wars;
And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist
For going on death's net, whom none resist.
PERICLES.
Antiochus, I thank thee, who hath taught
My frail mortality to know itself,
And by those fearful objects to prepare
This body, like to them, to what I must;
For death remember'd should be like a mirror,
Who tells us life 's but breath, to trust it error.
I'll make my will then, and, as sick men do
Who know the world, see heaven, but, feeling woe,
Gripe not at earthly joys as erst they did;
So I bequeath a happy peace to you
And all good men, as every prince should do;
My riches to the earth from whence they came;
[To the daughter of Antiochus.]
But my unspotted fire of love to you.
[To Antiochus.]
Thus ready for the way of life or death,
I wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus.
ANTIOCHUS.
Scorning advice, read the conclusion, then:
Which, read and not expounded, 'tis decreed,
As these before thee thou thyself shalt bleed.
DAUGHTER.
Of all 'sayed yet, mayst thou prove prosperous!
Of all 'sayed yet, I wish thee happiness!
PERICLES
Like a bold champion, I assume the lists,
Nor ask advice of any other thought
But faithfulness and courage.
[He reads the riddle.]
"I am no viper, yet I feed
On mother's flesh which did me breed.
I sought a husband, in which labour
I found that kindness in a father:
He's father, son, and husband mild;
I mother, wife, and yet his child.
How they may be, and yet in two,
As you will live, resolve it you."
Sharp physic is the last! but, O you powers
That give heaven countless eyes to view men's acts,
Why cloud they not their sights perpetually,
If this be true, which makes me pale to read it?
Fair glass of light, I loved you, and could still,
[Takes hold of the hand of the Princess.]
Were not this glorious casket stored with ill.
But I must tell you, now my thoughts revolt;
For he's no man on whom perfections wait
That, knowing sin within, will touch the gate,
You are a fair viol, and your sense the strings;
Who, finger'd to make man his lawful music,
Would draw heaven down, and all the gods to hearken;
But being play'd upon before your time,
Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime.
Good sooth, I care not for you.
ANTIOCHUS.
Prince Pericles, touch not, upon thy life,
For that's an article within our law,
As dangerous as the rest. Your time's expired:
Either expound now, or receive your sentence.
PERICLES.
Great king,
Few love to hear the sins they love to act;
'Twould 'braid yourself too near for me to tell it.
Who has a book of all that monarchs do,
He's more secure to keep it shut than shown:
For vice repeated is like the wandering wind,
Blows dust in others' eyes, to spread itself;
And yet the end of all is bought thus dear,
The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear
To stop the air would hurt them. The blind mole casts
Copp'd hills towards heaven, to tell the earth is throng'd
By man's oppression; and the poor worm doth die for't.
Kind are earth's gods; in vice their law's their will;
And if Jove stray, who dares say Jove doth ill?
It is enough you know; and it is fit,
What being more known grows worse, to smother it.
All love the womb that their first bred,
Then give my tongue like leave to love my head.
ANTIOCHUS.[Aside]
Heaven, that I had thy head! he has found the meaning:
But I will gloze with him. -- Young prince of Tyre,
Though by the tenour of our strict edict,
Your exposition misinterpreting,
We might proceed to cancel of your days;
Yet hope, succeeding from so fair a tree
As your fair self, doth tune us otherwise:
Forty days longer we do respite you;
If by which time our secret be undone,
This mercy shows we'll joy in such a son:
And until then your entertain shall be
As doth befit our honour and your worth.
[Exeunt all but Pericles.]
PERICLES.
How courtesy would seem to cover sin,
When what is done is like an hypocrite,
The which is good in nothing but in sight!
If it be true that I interpret false,
Then were it certain you were not so bad
As with foul incest to abuse your soul;
Where now you're both a father and a son,
By your untimely claspings with your child,
Which pleasure fits an husband, not a father;
And she an eater of her mother's flesh,
By the defiling of her parent's bed;
And both like serpents are, who though they feed
On sweetest flowers, yet they poison breed.
Antioch, farewell! for wisdom sees, those men
Blush not in actions blacker than the night,
Will shun no course to keep them from the light.
One sin, I know, another doth provoke;
Murder's as near to lust as flame to smoke:
Poison and treason are the hands of sin,
Ay, and the targets, to put off the shame:
Then, lest my life be cropp'd to keep you clear,
By flight I 'II shun the danger which I fear.
[Exit.]
fr. Act II, scene iv.
SCENE IV. Tyre. A room in the Govenor's house.
[Enter Helicanus and Escanes.]
HELICANUS.
No, Escanes, know this of me,
Antiochus from incest lived not free:
For which, the most high gods not minding longer
To withhold the vengeance that they had in store
Due to this heinous capital offence,
Even in the height and pride of all his glory,
When he was seated in a chariot
Of an inestimable value, and his daughter with him,
A fire from heavn came and shrivell'd up
Their bodies, even to loathing; for they so stunk,
That all those eyes adored them ere their fall
Scorn now their hand should give them burial.
ESCANES.
'Twas very strange
HELICANUS.
And yet but justice; for though
This king were great; his greatness was no guard.
To bar heaven's shaft, but sin had his reward.
=========================================================
Other texts of interest:
Thomas Evans, Oedipus (1615), STC 10594.
Anon., A worthy example of a vertuous wife, who fed her father with her own milk (1630). STC 10612.
Great Britain. An act for suppressing the detestable sins of incest, adultery and fornication by England and Wales. (1650), Wing E1081.
Anon., The Life and death of John Atherton lord bishop of Waterford and Lysmore within the kingdome of Ireland borne neare Bridgwater (1641), Wing L2000.
I.R., A most straunge, and true discourse, of the wonderfull iudgement of God. Of a monstrous, deformed infant, begotten by incestuous copulation, betweene the brothers sonne and the sisters daughter, being both vnmarried persons. Which childe was borne at Colwall, in the country and diocesse of Hereford, vpon the sixt day of Ianuary last, being the feast of the Epiphany, commonly called Twelfth day. A notable and most terrible example against incest and whoredome (1600.) STC 20575.
John Turner, An abstract of the argument in Mr. Turner's papers concerning the marriage of an uncle with the daughter of his half-brother by the father's side (1686), Wing T3298A.