CLAUDIUS – King of Denmark
HAMLET – son to the former and nephew to the present King
POLONIUS – Lord Chamberlain
HORATIO – friend to HAMLET
LAERTES – son to POLONIUS
VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, OSRIC, a Gentleman – courtiers
A priest
MARCELLUS, BERNARDO – officers
FRANCISCO – a soldier
REYNALDO – servant to POLONIUS
Players
Two clowns – grave-diggers
FORTINBRAS – Prince of Norway
A captain
English ambassadors
Ghost of HAMLET’S father
GERTRUDE – Queen of Denmark, and mother of HAMLET
OPHELIA – daughter to POLONIUS
Lords, ladies, officers, soldiers, sailors, messengers, and other attendants
PLAY
Elsinore.
ACT I
Scene i: Elsinore. A platform before the castle
Scene ii: Elsinore. A room of state in the castle.
Scene iii: A room in Polonius’ house.
Scene iv: The platform.
Scene v: A more remote part of the platform.
ACT II
Scene i: A room in Polonius’ house.
Scene ii: A room in the castle.
ACT III
Scene i: A room in the castle.
Scene ii: A hall in the castle.
Scene iii: A room in the castle.
Scene iv: Another room in the castle.
ACT IV
Scene i: A room in the castle.
Scene ii: Another room in the castle.
Scene iii: Another room in the castle.
Scene iv: A plain in Denmark.
Scene v: Elsinore. A room in the castle.
Scene vi: Another room in the castle.
Scene vii: Another room in the castle.
ACT V
Scene i: A churchyard.
Scene ii: A hall in the castle.
Act III: Scene i
HAMLET: To be, or not to be, – that is the question:–
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? – To die, – to sleep,–
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, – ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, – to sleep; –
To sleep! perchance to dream:–ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despis’d love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,–
The undiscover’d country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, – puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action, – Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia, – Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember’d.
