William Shakespeare (1564–1616). The Tragedy of Hamlet Prince of Denmark.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

Scene II

Act IV

[Before the Duke of Albany’s palace]
Enter GONERIL, Bastard [EDMUND], and Steward [OSWALD]

Gon.Welcome, my lord! I marvel our mild husbandNot met us on the way.—Now, where’s your master?Osw.Madam, within; but never man so chang’d.I told him of the army that was landed;He smil’d at it. I told him you were coming;His answer was, “The worse.” Of Gloucester’s treachery,And of the loyal service of his son,When I inform’d him, then he call’d me sot,And told me I had turn’d the wrong side out.What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him;What like, offensive.Gon.[To EDM.]Then shall you go no further.It is the cowish terror of his spirit,That dares not undertake; he’ll not feel wrongsWhich tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the wayMay prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother;Hasten his musters and conduct his powers.I must change names at home, and give the distaffInto my husband’s hands. This trusty servantShall pass between us. Ere long you are like to hear,If you dare venture in your own behalf,A mistress’s command. Wear this; spare speech;Decline your head. This kiss, if it durst speak,Would stretch thy spirits up into the air.Conceive, and fare thee well.Edm.Yours in the ranks of death.Exit.Gon.My most dear Gloucester!O, the difference of man and man!To thee a woman’s services are due;My Fool usurps my body.Osw.Madam, here comes my lord.Exit.

Enter the DUKE OF ALBANY

Gon.I have been worth the whistle.Alb.O Goneril!You are not worth the dust which the rude windBlows in your face. [I fear your disposition.That nature which contemns its originCannot be bordered certain in itself.She that herself will sliver and disbranchFrom her material sap, perforce must witherAnd come to deadly use.Gon.No more; the text is foolish.Alb.Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile;Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform’d?A father, and a gracious aged man,Whose reverence even the head-lugg’d bear would lick,Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded.Could my good brother suffer you to do it?A man, a prince, by him so benefited!If that the heavens do not their visible spiritsSend quickly down to tame these vile offences,It will come,Humanity must perforce prey on itself,Like monsters of the deep.]Gon.Milk-liver’d man!That bear’st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs,Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerningThine honour from thy suffering, [that not know’stFools do those villains pity who are punish’dEre they have done their mischief, where’s thy drum?France spreads his banners in our noiseless land,With plumed helm thy state begins to threat;Whiles thou, a moral fool, sits still, and cries,“Alack, why does he so?”]Alb.See thyself, devil!Proper deformity seems not in the fiendSo horrid as in woman.Gon.O vain fool![Alb.Thou changed and self-cover’d thing, for shame!Be-monster not thy feature. Were ’t my fitnessTo let these hands obey my blood,They are apt enough to dislocate and tearThy flesh and bones. Howe’er thou art a fiendA woman’s shape doth shield thee.Gon.Marry, your manhood—Mew!

Enter a Messenger

Alb.What news?]Mess.O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall’s dead;Slain by his servant, going to put outThe other eye of Gloucester.Alb.Gloucester’s eyes!Mess.A servant that he bred, thrill’d with remorse,Oppos’d against the act, bending his swordTo his great master; who, thereat enrag’d,Flew on him, and amongst them fell’d him dead;But not without that harmful stroke, which sinceHath pluck’d him after.Alb.This shows you are above,You justicers, that these our nether crimes.So speedily can venge! But, O poor Gloucester!Lost he his other eye?Mess.Both, both, my lord.This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer.’Tis from your sister.Gon.[Aside.]One way I like this well;But being widow, and my Gloucester with her,May all the building in my fancy pluckUpon my hateful life. Another way,The news is not so tart.—I’ll read, and answer.Exit.Alb.Where was his son when they did take his eyes?Mess.Come with my lady hither.Alb.He is not here.Mess.No, my good lord; I met him back again.Alb.Knows he the wickedness?Mess.Ay, my good lord; ’twas he inform’d against him;And quit the house on purpose, that their punishmentMight have the freer course.Alb.Gloucester, I liveTo thank thee for the love thou show’dst the King,And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend;Tell me what more thou know’st.Exeunt.

Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD