The Tragedie of Hamlet Prince of Denmark

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The Tragedie of Hamlet Prince of Denmark

Original Source

Folger STC 22276, fol. 26v/27r Huntington 69304, fol 16v/17r British Library c.34 k5., fol. 27v/28r

Witness List

  • Witness Sh1: Folger STC 22276, fol. 26v/27r
  • Witness Sh2: Huntington 69304, fol 16v/17r
  • Witness Sh3: British Library c.34 k5., fol. 27v/28r

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XWitness

 
We will bestow our selues; reade on this booke,
 
That show of such an exercise may cullour
 
Your lonelinesse: we are oft to blame in this,
 
'Tis too much proou'd, that with deutions visage
 
And pious action, we doe fugar ore
 
The deuill himselfe.
King
 
O tis too true

 
How smart a lash that speech doth giue give my conscience,
 
The harlots cheeke beautied with plastring art,
 
Is more not oughly ugly to the thing that helps it,
 
Then Than is my deede to my most painted pained word:
 
O heauy heavie burthen burden
Enter Hamlet. Pol
 
I heare him comming, with-draw withdraw my Lord.
exit Ham
 
To be, or not to be, that is that is I there's the question question point ,
 
Whether tis nobler in the minde mind to suffer
 
The slings flings and arrowes arrows of outragious fortune,
 
Or to take Armes armes against a sea of troubles,
 
And by opposing, end them, to die dye to sleepe
 
No more, and by a sleepe, to say we end
 
The hart-ake heart-ake , and the thousand natural naturall shocks shockes
 
The flesh is heire to; tis a consumatien
 
Deuoutly Devoutly to be wisht to die dye die To sleepe sleep , perchance to dreame, I there's the rub,
 
For in that inthat in that sleepe sleep of death what dreames may come
 
When we haue have shuffled off this mortall coyle
 
Must giue give us pause pause , there's the respect respect
 
That makes calamitie calamity of so long life:
 
For who would beare the whips and scornes of time,
 
Th' oppressors oppreffors wrong, the proude proud proude mans contumely,
 
The pangs of despiz'd despised loue love ,the lawes Lawes delay,
 
The insolence of office, and the spurnes
 
That patient merrit merit of th' vnworthy unworthy takes,
 
When as he himselfe might his quietas Quietus make
 
With a bare bodkin; who would fardels beare,
 
To grunt and sweat under a wearie weary life,
 
But that the dread of something after death,
 
The vndiscouer‘d country Countrey ,from whose borne
To Die, to sleepe, to dreame, I mary there it goes
For inthat deame of death, when wee awake,
And borne before an auerlasting Iudge,
From whence no passenger euer returnd,
The vndiscouered country, at whose sight
The happy smile, and the accursed damn'd,
But for this, the ioyfull hope of this
Who'd beare the scorens and flattery of the world,
Scroned by the right rich, the rich curssed of te poore?
XWitness

 
We will bestow our selues; reade on this booke,
 
That show of such an exercise may cullour
 
Your lonelinesse: we are oft to blame in this,
 
'Tis too much proou'd, that with deutions visage
 
And pious action, we doe fugar ore
 
The deuill himselfe.
King
 
O tis too true

 
How smart a lash that speech doth giue give my conscience,
 
The harlots cheeke beautied with plastring art,
 
Is more not oughly ugly to the thing that helps it,
 
Then Than is my deede to my most painted pained word:
 
O heauy heavie burthen burden
Enter Hamlet. Pol
 
I heare him comming, with-draw withdraw my Lord.
exit Ham
 
To be, or not to be, that is that is I there's the question question point ,
 
Whether tis nobler in the minde mind to suffer
 
The slings flings and arrowes arrows of outragious fortune,
 
Or to take Armes armes against a sea of troubles,
 
And by opposing, end them, to die dye to sleepe
 
No more, and by a sleepe, to say we end
 
The hart-ake heart-ake , and the thousand natural naturall shocks shockes
 
The flesh is heire to; tis a consumatien
 
Deuoutly Devoutly to be wisht to die dye die To sleepe sleep , perchance to dreame, I there's the rub,
 
For in that inthat in that sleepe sleep of death what dreames may come
 
When we haue have shuffled off this mortall coyle
 
Must giue give us pause pause , there's the respect respect
 
That makes calamitie calamity of so long life:
 
For who would beare the whips and scornes of time,
 
Th' oppressors oppreffors wrong, the proude proud proude mans contumely,
 
The pangs of despiz'd despised loue love ,the lawes Lawes delay,
 
The insolence of office, and the spurnes
 
That patient merrit merit of th' vnworthy unworthy takes,
 
When as he himselfe might his quietas Quietus make
 
With a bare bodkin; who would fardels beare,
 
To grunt and sweat under a wearie weary life,
 
But that the dread of something after death,
 
The vndiscouer‘d country Countrey ,from whose borne
To Die, to sleepe, to dreame, I mary there it goes
For inthat deame of death, when wee awake,
And borne before an auerlasting Iudge,
From whence no passenger euer returnd,
The vndiscouered country, at whose sight
The happy smile, and the accursed damn'd,
But for this, the ioyfull hope of this
Who'd beare the scorens and flattery of the world,
Scroned by the right rich, the rich curssed of te poore?

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