Never forget, and remember always, my son, there is nothing so important as righteousness...
0.1 EXT. DENMARK -- A FOREST -- DAY (AFTERNOON)
TRAVELLING SHOT: A dense, gloomy, old-growth forest tangled with undergrowth, dripping with newfallen rain. As we travel along, the sounds of a faint but ominous drumming fades in. Just then a trio of shrunken heads impaled on a stick pass by in fg, then another set. The rearguard of an army appears, through the trees, in a grassy dell. More SOLDIERS appear as we continue travelling, then the main host of a large army: the army of the Kingdom of Denmark. At the head of this, there is a gathering of THANES, and PRIESTS. An OLD PRIEST is reciting a prayer. Kneeling before him, in full armor, is the KING OF DENMARK. STOP TRAVELLING SHOT. The King’s armor is of Roman style, and is composed of gold, silver, and bronze. In addition, he is also wearing, also after the Roman fashion, purple fabric.
That’s the Danish army, and their king,
right there. He’s receiving a blessing
from that priest. The priest is speaking
in Latin. He’s invoking the aid of God
for his King, for Denmark, and what he
calls “all Christendom.”
THE DANISH ARMY
This is single combat between the Danish
king, and the King of Norway.
THE NORWEGIAN SIDE
Just across the dell the main Norwegian host is assembled. They are pagan Vikings. A contingent of WITCHES are dancing around the KING OF NORWAY, as he prepares himself for battle. The Norwegians have a company of DRUMMERS banging out a jungle beat. The Witches have their hairline cut back to a line even with their ears, and bear various tattoos all over themselves.
That’s the King of Norway: Fortinbras,
THE DANISH SIDE
The Priest is concluding his prayer.
In the name of the Father, and the Son,
and the Holy Spirit, I bless you and your
The Norwegian drums fall silent. Then the Witches begin a chant: “Odin, Odin, Odin...” This is taken up by the entire Norwegian host. In response the Danish army starts clanging their swords against their shields, making a tremendous clamor.
The Danish King crosses himself, rises, and turns, facing the Norwegians.
They’re about to engage in single combat
for the possession of this territory here.
Whichever king wins, the other army retires,
and the winners take over.
(in Old Norse)
God is my strength!
(in Old Norse)
Odin and Thor tear you to pieces!
A shout goes up from the Norwegian side.
They’re speaking Old Norse. They just
invoked their gods. Now they’ll fight.
Fortinbras draws his sword and advances. The Danish King advances to meet him. They fight. The Danish host begins singing a psalm. The Norwegian drummers start pounding again. There is a tremendous noise.
The two kings, although past their prime as warriors, are nevertheless well skilled as swordsmen, and the fight goes on most strenuously, ebbing to and fro, accompanied by shouts of joy or dread whenever one seems to have the advantage. The fight goes on for two hours, and both are wounded. The passage of time is indicated by WIPES, and by the setting of the sun. NIGHT FALLS. the combat continues by torchlight. The Danish King takes up his own chant: “God is my strength” (in Old Norse). Both sides have lost energy for much singing or shouting. At last, the Danish King, calling on a hidden reserve of stamina, pounds Fortinbras back and down. Fortinbras, exhausted, cannot hold his heavy shield up quite high enough, and with his last strength, the Danish King swings his heavy sword around, beheading Fortinbras. A stream of blood shoots straight up out his neck. A SHRIEK goes up from the Witches, a ROAR from the Danish host, and the Norwegian host panics and runs for their lives.
The Danish King is borne aloft, and the Danish host pursues the Norwegian host, singing again. We watch them run after the Norwegians into the gathering gloom, and the camera comes to rest at a shot of another set of shrunken heads, this time flanked by skulls.
That was thirty years ago.
0.2 EXT. AN AMORPHOUS VOID -- NIGHT
Dark shifting shapes of greyness give way, and we spy the surface of a moonlit sea, from a great height.
Swooping down, we flash over the surface of the sea, but not steadily, not as in an airplane: the speed ebbs and flows, as if we were born along by a great bird...
As the Credits come to a close, we bank and climb, over toward:
EXT. ELSINORE CASTLE -- NIGHT
The great castle is on a sharp promontory. Its foundation is hewn of stone, but much of the castle superstructure is made of timber. Torches illuminate the ramparts. It is raw weather, and a strong wind drives a mist against the walls. We bank again and glide over the castle, and seem to come to rest on a high tower, overlooking all.
1.1 EXT. ELSINORE CASTLE -- RAMPARTS -- NIGHT
Sounds of the sea, and of wind whipping the banners, and the torches.
A sentry, BARNARDO, appears from just off frame to the right. He is terrified, and peers out into the mist. He turns this way and that, brandishing his spear. Finally, nearly in a panic, he shouts:
From out of the gloom another voice calls:
Nay, answer me! Stand and unfold yourself!
(bringing his spear round)
Long live the King!
Francisco, the other sentry, appears straight out of the fog. Barnardo gapes in terror.
You come most carefully upon your hour.
‘Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed,
For this relief much thanks.
He eyes Barnardo carefully, judging his agitation.
‘Tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.
Have you had quiet guard?
Not a mouse stirring.
A deep, throaty sound of what might be laughter is heard O.S.(but near the microphone). Although the sentries do not seem to hear it, they continue to look around uneasily. Barnardo tries to recover himself.
Well, good night.
If you meet Horatio and Marcellus, bid them make haste.
I think I hear them.
There are footsteps. Both sentries are alarmed, and stand ready with their weapons. The wind kicks up, dispelling the fog a little. Francisco looks over at Barnardo, who is now petrified with fear.
Stand ho! Who is there?
Barnardo backs away into the fog. Behind and above, we see revealed the form of an enormous, glowing, jewel-encrusted WHITE DRAGON, perched on a tower of the battlements. HORATIO, an Irish priest who looks rather youthful for his 46 years, and MARCELLUS, another guard, enter from either side of the camera position to face Francisco.
Friends to this ground.
And liegemen to the Dane.
God give you good night.
Marcellus is amused at Francisco’s alarm. He has been drinking. Matter of fact, he is drinking right now: a good vintage of imported Greek wine, in a bottle wrapped in wicker.
Oh, farewell, honest soldier.
Who hath relieved you?
Barnardo hath my place. Good
Hey there, Barnardo!
Barnardo reappears from the mist.
Say, what, is Horatio there?
A piece of him.
Marcellus is looking around nonchalantly, as if there is nothing to be afraid of. The Dragon, although visible to us, is not seen by the characters.
Welcome, good Horatio, and you,
Horatio regards the quaking Barnardo closely, and his demeanor becomes suddenly serious.
What, has this thing appeared again tonight?
(trying to cover up
I have seen nothing.
(To Barnardo; with excellent
Horatio says ‘tis but our fantasy,
And will not let belief take hold of him,
Touching this dreaded sight twice seen by us.
Therefore I have entreated him along
(moving to Horatio)
With us to watch the minutes of this night,
That if again this apparition come
He may approve our eyes and speak to it.
Is Marcellus going to kiss Horatio?
Hah! There’s no such thing.
Horatio is peering out into the night, on the lookout for the apparition, and though his eyes pass over the Dragon, he sees it not. Barnardo is afraid he’ll find something, and tries to distract him.
Sit you down awhile, Horatio,
And let us once again assail your ears --
That are so fortified against our story --
With what we have these two nights seen.
Well, sit we down,
And let us hear Barnardo speak of this.
Marcellus sits down right next to Horatio.
When yond same star that’s westward from the pole,
Had made its course to shine in that part of heaven
HIGH ANGLE PAST DRAGON
The Dragon is becoming agitated, and it flexes its talons.
Where it now burns, Marcellus and myself,
Marcellus is facing the position of the Dragon.
The bell then beating one --
The Dragon produces a large mask which, in Greek theater, denotes comedy. Suddenly Marcellus sees it.
Peace! Break thee off!
Look where it comes again!
(jumping to his feet)
In the same guise like the King that’s dead!
Thou art a scholar, speak to it, Horatio.
Looks it not like the King?
It would be spoke to.
Question it, Horatio.
What art thou that stalks this time of night,
Together with that fair and warlike form
In which the majesty of buried Denmark
Did sometimes march?
The Dragon peers down at them. Horatio makes the sign of the cross.
By God, I charge thee, speak!
The Dragon starts, and then slithers away over the edge of the wall.
It is offended.
See! It stalks away!
Stay, speak, speak! I charge thee speak!
Marcellus and Barnardo charge past Horatio, and peer over the battlements out into the fog. There is nothing but the sound of breakers.
It’s gone and will not answer.
How now, Horatio, you tremble and look pale.
Is not this something more than fantasy?
What think you on it?
Before my God, I might not this believe,
Without the sensible and true report
Of my own eyes.
Is it not like the King?
As thou art to thyself.
He looks out into the night for the apparition. Then he turns back to the two guards.
Such was the very armor he had on when he fought
the Norwegian King. ‘Tis most strange.
Thus twice before, and right at this dead hour,
With martial gait hath he gone by our watch.
They look at Horatio as if waiting for an explanation.
With what particular motive I know not, but in
my opinion this...this bodes some strange
eruption to our state.
Horatio walks back to the main part of the platform, and then starts to walk away altogether. But Marcellus prevents him. The Dragon peers over the edge of the battlements, listening in.
Wait, sit you down, and tell me, if you know,
How it is that not only we, on guard here,
But also many more toil in the realm,
Feverishly, daily forging steel for swords,
And in the market place trade them also,
For implements of war from foreign lands,
Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
Does not divide the Sunday from the week?
What is the reason for the sweaty haste
That makes the night joint-laborer with the day?
(makes pass at Horatio)
Who is it that can inform me?
Horatio again evades Marcellus, and settles down to lecture them, with disapproving allusions toward Marcellus.
That I can.
At least the whisper goes so: our last King,
Whose image even now appeared before us,
Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
Thereto led on by an unrighteous pride,
Challenged to single combat.
Listen to him: he thinks he’s a narrator.
THE BATTLE IN THE FOREST
M.O.S. Old Fortinbras and Old Hamlet fighting their duel.
In this, our valiant King Hamlet,
For so this side of our known world esteemed him,
Did slay this Fortinbras, who by a seal’d compact
MAP OF THE REGION
Well ratified by law and heraldry
Did forfeit, with his life, all those lands
He had seized afore to his conqueror.
Now, sir, this young Fortinbras,
A temperamental boy, hot and full,
EXT. NORWAY -- THE COAST -- DAY
FORTINBRAS leading a rag-tag group of followers. He is accompanied by the same group of Witches and Drummers (plus YOUNGER ONES) that appeared in the combat scene.
Has, on the coast of Norway, here and there,
Gathered a force of lawless resolutes,
For some strange enterprise, which is no other,
As it doth well appear...
INT. ELSINORE CASTLE -- WAR ROOM -- NIGHT
The current King, CLAUDIUS, with his ADVISORS, among them POLONIUS, are studying maps of the region.
...unto our state,
But to recover from us by a strong hand
All those foresaid lands, by this father lost.
And this, I take it,
Is the main motive of our preparations,
The source of this our watch, and the whole point
Of this most rapid rummaging in the land.
I think it be no other but the same.
Well may it be that this portentous figure
Comes armed through our watch so like the King
That was, and is, the reason for these wars.
A mote it is to trouble the mind’s eye.
The Dragon starts moving: it climbs along the outside of the wall, and peers over at them as it does.
(continuing; partly to
In the most high and mighty empire of Rome,
Just before the great Iulius fell,
The graves stood open, and the unbound dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets.
As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
As darkenings of the sun, as the pallid moon
Which rules the tides, is blotted in eclipse,
As all these do occur, so too portend they
Havoc, as is often demonstrated here,
And in other lands, as well.
The Dragon climbs over the wall, and crouches on the platform, leaning forward. It then presents its comedy mask.
(dropping wine bottle)
But soft! Behold!
Lo, where it comes again!
I’ll cross it though it blast me.
The Dragon rises, looming over them. Horatio advances towards it.
If thou hast any sound or use of voice,
Speak to me!
If there be any good thing to be done
That may do thee ease, and grace to me,
Speak to me!
If thou have intelligence of thy country’s fate,
Which, if foreknowledge may avoid it,
A COCK CROWS. The Dragon starts, and turns away.
Stop it, Marcellus!
Marcellus stabs at the Dragon with his spear, but the Dragon hops over to another part of the wall as nimbly as you please. Barnardo stabs at it.
The Dragon drops its mask, seems to fall over the edge of the battlements, and vanishes into the night.
We do it wrong, being so majestical,
To offer it the show of violence,
For it is as the air, invulnerable,
And our vain blows malicious mockery.
It was about to speak when the cock crew.
And then it started like a guilty thing
Upon a fearful summons...
I have heard
The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
Awake the god of day, and at his warning,
Whether in sea or fire, in earth, or air,
The extravagant and erring spirit hies
To his confine...
And the truth of that belief
This present show confirmation offers.
It faded at the crowing of the cock.
Some say that ever within that time of year
Wherein our Savior’s birth is celebrated,
This bird of dawning singeth all night long,
And then --
And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad,
The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
So hallowed and so gracious is that time.
So have I heard...and do in part believe it.
But look you, the morning fast approaches.
Let us divide our watch, and my advice is,
That we impart what we have seen tonight
Unto young Hamlet, for upon my life
This ‘spirit,’ dumb to us, will speak to him.
Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?
Let’s do it, I pray.
And I this morning know
Where we shall find him most convenient.
A full moon broods over the striking form of the Castle at Elsinore. Breakers pound the rocks. Just then the Dragon flies in front of the camera position in SLOW MOTION.
1.2 INT. ELSINORE -- THRONE ROOM -- DAY
The Old King’s armor is hanging on the wall.
In a moment the courtlings will enter;
Watch out for the new king Claudius, and
his wife, Gertruda. They’re a hot item.
You should see them in bed, especially her.
A FLOURISH SOUNDS. Enter Claudius, King of Denmark, GERTRUDA, the Queen, and the ROYAL COUNCIL, including VOLTEMAND, CORNELIUS, Polonius, and his son LAERTES, young PRINCE HAMLET, and others of the court. Hamlet and Claudius hate each other.
Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother’s death
The memory be green, and that it us befitted
To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom
To be contracted in one brow of woe,
Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature
That we with wisest sorrow think on him
Together with remembrance of ourselves.
You’re a pompous old bastard, aren’t you?
Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
The imperial jointress to this warlike state,
Have we, as ‘twere with a defeated joy,
With an auspicious and a dropping eye,
With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage,
In equal scale weighing delight and dole,
Taken to wife.
INSERT -- SHOT OF HAMLET
Porkin’ her. Porkin’ her up the butt. You
Nor have we herein barr’d
Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
With this affair along.
INSERT -- SHOT OF POLONIUS
He knows. He knows all about it.
For all, our thanks.
A CHEER goes up from the court. Claudius rises, and begins an oration.
Now follows that you know young Fortinbras,
Holding a weak supposal of our worth,
Or thinking by our late dear brother’s death
Our state to be disjoint and out of frame,
Colleagued with this dream of his advantage,
He hath not fail’d to pester us with message
Importing the surrender of those lands
Lost by his father, with all bonds of law,
To our most valiant brother. So much for him.
Now for ourself, and for this time of meeting,
Thus much the business is: we have here writ
To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras --
Who, impotent and bedrid, scarcely hears
Of his nephew’s purpose -- to suppress
His further gait herein, in that the levies,
The lists, and full proportions are all made
Out of his subject; and we here dispatch
You, good Cornelius, and you Voltemand,
For bearers of this greeting to Old Norway,
Giving to you no further personal power
To business with the King more than the scope
Of these dilated articles allow.
Cornelius and Voltemand advance to receive their documents. They are dressed after the Viking fashion.
He’s trying to hold on to his hard-won territory
by diplomatic means. That has no chance. As
for these two ambassadors, well...
Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty.
CORNELIUS + VOLTEMAND
In that, and all things, will we show our duty.
Cornelius and Voltemand exit the throne room.
And now, Laertes, what’s the news with you?
Laertes looks embarrassed, and says nothing.
Come now, lose not your voice.
The head is not more native to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.
He looks more embarrassed than ever.
What wouldst thou have, Laertes?
Hamlet mimics the king’s words in pantomime.
My dread lord,
Your leave and favor to return to France,
From whence though willingly I came to Denmark
To show my duty in your coronation,
Yet I must confess, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
(glancing at Hamlet)
Have you your father’s leave? What says Polonius?
He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave
By laborsome petition, and at last
Upon his will I seal’d my hard consent.
I do beseech you, let him go.
Take thy fair hour, Laertes, time be thine,
And thy best graces spend it at thy will.
Laertes bows and exits.
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son --
A little more than kin, and less than kind.
How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
Not so, my lord, I am too much in the sun.
Ha, ha, very funny.
Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color 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 though nature to eternity.
Ay, madam, it is common.
If it be,
Why seems it so particular with thee?
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 passes show,
These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
‘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 official grieving. But to persevere
In obstinate endless sorrow is a course
Of impious stubbornness: an unmanly grief.
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,
A low, coarse, rumbling becomes audible, of something that might be laughter, and then it fades away.
A heart unfortified, a mind impatient,
An understanding simple and...unschooled;
For what we know must be, and is as common
To accept as anything there is.
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 nature cries still,
From the first corpse...
Abel. Abel, Abel, Abel.
...till he that died today,
‘This must be so.’
Hamlet is fuming.
We pray you bury deep
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,
That’s a surprise.
And with no less nobility of love
Than that which dearest father bears his son
Do I impart toward you.
There is a murmur of approval from the court.
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.
A small ovation from the court.
Keep him here where you can keep an eye
on him. Very clever.
Gertruda almost forgets her cue.
Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet.
I pray thee stay with us, go not to Wittenberg.
I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
(to court; ignoring
Why, ‘tis a loving and a fair reply.
(to Hamlet; as warning)
Be as ourself in Denmark.
This gentle and unforc’d accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling on my heart; in grace whereof,
No joyous toast that Denmark drinks today
But our trumpets to the clouds shall sound,
And the King’s health the heavens sound again,
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away!
Another flourish of trumpets. The throne room empties, as the feasting is to begin. Hamlet remains alone.
Fuck that shit.
O that this too too sullied flesh would melt,
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew,
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed
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 goes to seed; things rank and gross in nature
Possess it wholly. That it should come to this!
But two months dead -- nay, not so much, not two --
So excellent a king, that was to this....as
Hyperion to a satyr. So loving to my mother
That he might not permit 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 follow’d my poor father’s body,
Like Niobe, all tears -- why, 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 rush
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.
Horatio, Marcellus, and Barnardo have been peering in; they nod to each other, and advance. Hamlet is weeping, and marks them not.
Hail to your lordship.
Hamlet slowly turns to them, and strives to place them.
I am glad to see you well.
Horatio, or I do forget myself.
The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.
No, sir: my good friend. I’ll show you.
And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?
Good my lord.
I am very glad to see you.
Good even, sir.
But what in faith takes you from Wittenberg?
They are trying to get around to broaching the apparition, and spend some attention regarding the armor on the wall.
A truant disposition, good my lord.
I would not hear your enemy say so,
Nor shall you do my ear that violence
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself. I know you are no truant.
No one speaks, but the sounds of the feast are apparent.
But what is your affair in Elsinore?
We’ll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
My lord, I came to see your father’s funeral.
All three of the boys sneak glances at the armor. Hamlet turns to see what they are looking at, then in the direction of the noise, then back to them.
I prithee do not mock me, fellow-student.
I think it was to see my mother’s wedding.
Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.
Thrift, thrift, Horatio. The funeral-baked meats
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
Rather I had seen that day, Horatio.
methinks I see my father --
The others are startled, and turn around to look in the direction Hamlet is looking.
Where, my lord?
In my mind’s eye, Horatio.
(about to reveal it)
I saw him...once...he was a goodly king.
He was a man, take him for all in all.
I shall not look upon his like again.
Horatio screws up his courage, and comes out with it.
My lord...I think I saw him yesternight.
My lord, the king your father.
Marcellus and Barnardo nod vehemently.
The king my father!
He turns to the armor. Horatio turns him back.
Season your amazement for a while, with
An attentive ear, till I may deliver
Upon the witness of these gentlemen
This marvel to you.
For God’s love let me hear!
Two nights together had these gentlemen,
The Ghost appears, and in the form and guise as they saw it: namely, as Old Hamlet, in the Roman armor. The rest goes as Horatio describes it.
Marcellus and Barnardo, on their watch
In the dead waste and middle of the night
Were thus encounter’d: a figure like your father
Fully armed, from head to foot,
Appeared before them, and with a solemn march
Goes slow and stately by them; thrice he walk’d
By their oppress’d and fear-surprised eyes
Within their truncheon’s length, whilst they, distilled
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did,
And I with them the third night kept the watch,
Where, as they had deliver’d, both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes.
THE THRONE ROOM
Hamlet again looks back at the armor. Horatio again turns him back. Hamlet grabs Horatio’s hands, as if to remove them from himself.
I knew you father;
These hands are not more like.
But where was this?
My lord, upon the platform where we watch.
Did you not speak to it?
My lord, I did,
Again the Ghost, appearing as Old Hamlet.
But answer made it none. Yet once I thought
It lifted up its head and did address
Itself to motion like as it would speak.
But even then the morning cock crew loud,
THE THRONE ROOM
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away
And vanished from our sight.
As I do live, my honour’d lord, ‘tis true;
And we did think it writ down in our duty
To let you know of it.
Indeed sirs. But this troubles me.
(glances to armor,
Hold you the watch tonight?
We do, my lord.
Armed, say you?
Armed, my lord.
From top to toe?
My lord, from head to foot.
Then saw you not his face?
O yes, my lord, he wore his visor up.
What looked he, frowningly?
A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
And fixed his eyes upon you?
I would I had been there.
It would have much amazed you.
Stayed it long?
While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
MARCELLUS + BARNARDO
Not when I saw it.
His beard was grizzled, no?
It was as I have seen it in his life,
A sable silvered.
I will watch tonight.
Perchance ‘twill walk again.
I warrant it will.
If it assume my noble father’s person.
I’ll speak to it though hell itself should gape
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you have hitherto conceal’d this sight,
Let it be tenable in your silence still;
And whatsoever else shall hap tonight,
Give it an understanding but no tongue.
I will requite your loves. So fare you well.
Upon the platform ‘twixt eleven and twelve
I’ll visit you.
Our duty to your honor.
Your loves, as mine to you. Farewell.
Exit Horatio, Marcellus, and Barnardo.
My father’s spirit -- in arms! All is not well.
I guess some foul play. Would the night were come.
Till then, sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise,
Though all the earth o’erwhelm them, to men’s eyes.
1.3 INT. ROOM IN CASTLE -- DAY
M.O.S. plus music. Present are Laertes, and his older sister OPHELIA; Ophelia has her hair up, wearing it that way until the very end. A strong sun shines through the windows. Laertes is just finishing packing his things. Ophelia waits patiently. Laertes approaches her and kisses her, then points to a desk.
INSERT -- PEN AND PAPER
DO YOU DOUBT ME?
He smiles, turns and goes to the desk, then turns back.
Laertes says his regular speech M.O.S., superimposed over: Hamlet wooing Ophelia, who rebuffs him.
SWEET, NOT LASTING
A motion of rejection.
A motion of rejection.
No more but so?
THINK IT NO MORE.
A CORRIDOR IN THE CASTLE
Hamlet approaches Ophelia down a long corridor in the castle. As he nears her he gradually acquires royal garments, finally, a crown. He passes Ophelia, and ascends the throne. FADE IN Courtiers.
A tear in his eye.
Looks to maps: a council of war.
A ROOM IN THE CASTLE
Ophelia is forlorn.
FADE OUT Superimposition. Laertes finishes his speech. He shakes his head “no.”
HE LOVES ME.
He mouths the words, “I love you.”
He mouths the word “If.”
IF HE SAYS HE LOVES YOU.
She mouths the word “If.”
He mouths the words “If he says he loves you...”
She gives him a querying look. She mouths the word “If?”
Full of courtiers. Ophelia before the throne. Hamlet extends his hand. Ophelia kisses it, rises. The courtiers stare at her disapprovingly.
He shakes his head “no.”
Ophelia bows, and withdraws, taking her place at the back.
A state wedding: Hamlet, and...a princess.
At the back.
A ROOM IN THE CASTLE
Ophelia on a bench, nude: view from the rear. Her legs are spread wide. Hamlet faces her. PAN HALFWAY AROUND.
SERIES OF SHOTS
Extreme close-ups of Ophelia, in agony and ecstasy.
A ROOM IN A DUNGEON
Ophelia looks up to a remote window. Through which stark sunbeams slant. PULL BACK REVEALING Ophelia, pregnant, and imprisoned.
WEIGH WHAT LOSS YOUR HONOR MAY SUSTAIN...
WEIGH WHAT LOSS
YOUR HONOR MAY SUSTAIN
She mouths the word “Hamlet!”
WEIGH WHAT LOSS YOUR HONOR MAY SUSTAIN...
MAY SUSTAIN [in larger letters]
YOUR HONOR MAY SUSTAIN
In a room in the castle, sitting at a window. PULL BACK REVEALING her nursing and crying. She looks up.
He mouths the words, “fear it.”
He mouths the words, “fear it, Ophelia.”
FEAR IT, OPHELIA.
He mouths the words “Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister.”
Laertes and Ophelia in the room. He puts a cloak around her.
Laertes and Ophelia in the Throne Room. He puts a cloak around her. Laertes and Ophelia before a bonfire, in front of a full moon. Ophelia nude, dancing before it. He puts a cloak around her.
BE WARY THEN. BEST SAFETY LIES IN FEAR.
YOU BETRAY YOURSELF, EVEN IF NONE ELSE BE NEAR.
I SHALL THE EFFECT OF THIS GOOD LESSON KEEP AS
WATCHMAN TO MY HEART.
Still mostly M.O.S., but she speaks in synchrony with her lips.
But, good my brother,
Do not as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven,
Whiles like a puff’d and reckless libertine
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And heeds not his own schemes.
O, fear me not.
They embrace. Sounds of footsteps.
I stay too long. But here my father comes.
Yet here Laertes? Aboard, aboard for shame.
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
And you are stayed for.
He gives Laertes a large purse, or bag, of money.
There, my blessing with thee.
Now they embrace, too.
And these few precepts in thy memory...
Laertes has heard this before, and turns away, but Polonius prevents him. Ophelia is amused.
...look you, engrave.
He holds up a large gold coin, which he then puts into Laertes’s hand. He begins a speech.
Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportional thought his act.
There are two visual tracks: one shows a writer feverishly writing out the very text Polonius recites; the other is an enactment of Polonius’s advice to Laertes. Frequently the text is shown in tight close-up, so close we see right through it -- through the letters (which achieve a certain transparency) to the other visual track. The first location is:
INT. FRANCE -- AN INN -- NIGHT
Laertes gambling (at cards).
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel
One of the other gamblers accuses Laertes of cheating, overturns the tables, and challenges him.
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Laertes takes up the challenge, disarms his opponent easily, gives him back his weapon, whereupon the other leaves in dismay, and Laertes is surrounded by beautiful inn-women.
Of each new-hatched unfledged gallant. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in,
Bear’t that the opposed may beware of thee.
Laertes conspiring with Claudius.
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice;
Laertes arguing with Hamlet at the graveside (Ophelia not visible).
Take each man’s censure, but reserve thy judgment.
INT. FRANCE -- DAY
Laertes is shaved, made-up, and attired in fancy (for the time) dress -- especially in contrast to the rude apparel of the northern climes of Denmark.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not expressed in fancy: rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man,
And they in France of the best rank and station
Are of a most select and generous chief in that.
INT. FRANCE -- AN OFFICE -- NIGHT
Laertes is a money-lender, and is lending out money.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be,
For loan oft loses both itself and friends,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
Laertes dueling Hamlet.
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow as the night the day
Thou canst be false to no man.
END MONTAGE SEQUENCE
Farewell, my blessing season this in thee.
Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.
Ophelia almost laughs.
The time invests you. Go, your servants tend.
Farewell Ophelia, and remember well
What I have said to you.
‘Tis in my memory locked,
And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
What has he said to you?
Ophelia adopts an ill-concealed attitude of mockery.
Something...touching the Lord Hamlet.
That’s well bethought.
Ophelia smirks, in impatience.
I have heard he has very often,
of late, given...private time to you.
Waits for a response.
And you yourself, have, of yourself,
been most free and bounteous.
Waits again for a response.
If it be so, as so I have heard, I must
tell you you may not clearly understand
She turns away.
What is between you? Tell me the truth.
He has, my lord, of late made many
tenders of his affection to me.
Affection? Nonsense. You talk like a
(circling round her)
Do you believe these ‘tenders,’ as you
She turns away again -- not wanting to argue the point.
I do not know, my lord, what
I should think.
I’ll tell you. You’re a baby to take
these tenders for true pay, which are
not sterling. Tender yourself more
dearly, or, so to say, you’ll tender
me a fool.
He points down at her private parts. This angers her.
My lord, he has importuned me with
love in honorable fashion.
Faah! Fashion you may call it.
My lord, he has confirmed his speech with
holy vows to...heaven.
That really irritates Polonius.
Snares to catch rabbits! I know very
well how, when the blood burns, how
easily the tongue will vow.
She tries to go, but Polonius blocks her exit.
Don’t you believe him. Rate yourself
more highly. As for Lard Hamlet, do
not forget that he is young, and with a
longer tether may he walk than is given
to you. He seeks you out to satisfy his
lust, nothing more: thus his clever phrases.
She tries to rush past him, but he grabs her.
Listen to me! You will not, in plain
terms, from this time forth, slander
any moment of leisure by giving words,
or ‘talk’ with the Lord Hamlet.
Look to it. I charge you.
I shall obey, my lord.
INT. ELSINORE -- HALL -- NIGHT
The King’s feast is proceeding well, having gone on all day, and now into the evening. Dancing, drinking, feasting, revelry. Claudius and Gertruda sit behind a table still. They hold hands as they drink.
EXT. ELSINORE -- CASTLE -- NIGHT
AERIAL SHOT. We bank and dive toward the castle.
1.4 INT/EXT. ELSINORE -- CASTLE -- NIGHT
Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus are hurrying through an interior hallway. Hamlet seems colder than the others. Sounds of the revels echo throughout the castle.
The air bites shrewdly, it is very cold.
It is a nipping and an eager air.
They march off screen. Just then the Dragon’s eye peers through one of the openings in the castle walls; it searches a moment, and then moves on.
(rubbing his hands)
What hour now?
I think it lacks of twelve.
No, it is struck.
As they walk along the exterior passage, the Dragon shadows them, hopping along the battlements like a cat.
Indeed? I heard it not.
It then draws near the season
Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.
They arrive at a COURTYARD high in the castle. They spread out and look around. It is a clear night, and the stars are out in force. Then, a flourish of trumpets and a banging of drums.
What does this mean, my lord?
The King doth wake tonight, holds his merriment,
Keeps wassail, dances swagg’ring upspring reels.
And as he drains his drafts of Rhenish down,
The kettle drum and trumpet thus bray out
The triumph of his health.
Claudius and Gertruda are madly dancing a reel, with the rest of the partygoers applauding, drinking, and singing.
Is it a custom?
Ay, marry it is.
But to my mind, though I am native here
And to the manner born, it is a custom
More honored in the breach than the observance.
He takes the Greek bottle of wine (a new one) from Marcellus, and takes a drink from it. He goes to the battlements, and looks off, then all around, sweeping his gaze over the Dragon, not seeing it, although the Dragon is visible to us, on the wall. Then he searches the sky.
This heavy-handed revel east and west
Makes us judged and condemned of other nations --
They call us drunkards, and with swinish phrase
Soil our addition; and indeed it takes
From our achievements,...
Straightening Horatio’s robes.
...though performed so well,
The pith and marrow of our attribute.
He looks back in the direction of the feast.
So, oft it chances in particular men
That for some vicious mole of nature in them,
As in their birth, wherein they are not guilty
Since nature cannot choose his origin,
Or by the overgrowth of some peculiarity,
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason,
Or by some habit, that too much oversteps
The form of common manners, that these men,
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,
His virtues else, be they as pure as grace,
As infinite as man may undergo,
Shall in the general censure take corruption
From this particular fault.
(as if quoting)
The dram of evil
Doth all the noble substance often taint
To his undoing.
The Dragon crouches down with a deliberate feline grace, as if ready to pounce, and once again raises its Greek mask.
Look, my lord, it comes!
Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
Hamlet pushes past him to face the apparition.
Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn’d,
Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
Be thy intents wicked or charitable,
Thou com’st in such a questionable shape
That I will speak to thee. I’ll call thee Hamlet!
King, father, royal Dane! O ANSWER ME!
The Dragon glares at them.
(continuing; to Horatio)
What may this mean,
That thou, dead corpse, again in shining armor,
Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night a terror, and we pawns of nature --
So horridly shakes our disposition --
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
No response from the Dragon.
Say, why is this! Wherefore? What should we do?
The Dragon makes an elaborate gesture.
It beckons you to go away with it.
As if some secret it should tell...
To you alone.
Look how courteous...but do not go with it!
(making up his mind)
No, by no means.
It will not speak. Then I will follow it.
Do not, my lord!
The Dragon withdraws a ways, and makes a series of identical gestures.
Why, what should I fear?
I do not set my life equal to a pin,
And for my soul, what can it do to that,
Being a thing immortal as itself?
He takes a step toward it, but Horatio grabs him.
It waves me forth again. I’ll follow it.
Horatio argues, but does not voice his real concern, which is spiritual in nature.
What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord,
Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff,
That beetles o’er his base into the sea,
And there assume some other horrible form
Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason
And draw you into madness? Think of it!
Hamlet takes another step toward the Dragon.
The very place puts thoughts of desperation,
Without more motive, into every brain
That looks so many fathoms to the sea
And hears it roar beneath.
It waves me still.
Go on! I’ll follow thee!
You shall not go, my lord!
Hold off your hands!
Be ruled; you shall not go.
Hamlet takes another step toward the Dragon, and both Marcellus and Horatio restrain him.
My fate cries out.
Still am I called.
Unhand me, gentlemen.
They don’t let him go. Then he wrestles free and draws his sword.
By God, I’ll make a ghost of him that checks me!
I say away!
Go on! I’ll follow thee!
Hamlet runs after the Dragon, which turns, takes two steps, and vanishes.
He waxes desperate with his imagination.
Let’s follow. ‘Tis not fit thus to obey him.
They charge on up the winding stone path.
SERIES OF SHOTS
Hamlet chasing the Dragon, Horatio and Marcellus trying to keep up, and getting lost.
To what issue will this come?
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
Horatio loses his nerve, and stops, terrified, convinced of the demonic nature of the apparition. Then a terrifying SHRIEK pierces the night.
Heaven will direct it.
Marcellus grabs him and drags him along.
Nay, let’s follow him.
They hurry on up the path.
Claudius and Gertruda passionately kissing, seated at the table, amid the revels.
SERIES OF SHOTS
Hamlet racing through a series of passageways in the castle; some inside, some outside, at last culminating in a high platform overlooking the sea. The sounds of the feast are muffled here. The Dragon is perched on a tower.
Hamlet arrives, looks about, and sees nothing. For the first time we hear the sounds about the Dragon: it has a slow heartbeat like a drum; its breath sounds harshly out of its nostrils, and it has a low gurgling noise in its throat.
Whither wilt thou lead me?
Speak, I’ll go no further.
The Dragon puts up its mask, and speaks.
Hamlet whirls and is amazed.
My hour is almost come
When I to sulph’rous and tormenting flames
Must render up myself.
Alas, poor Ghost.
Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold.
Speak, I am bound to hear.
So art thou to revenge when thou shalt hear.
I AM THY FATHER’S SPIRIT,
DOOM’D FOR A CERTAIN TERM TO WALK THE NIGHT
AND FOR THE DAY CONFIN’D TO FAST IN FIRES,
TILL THE FOUL CRIMES DONE IN MY DAYS OF NATURE
ARE BURNT AND PURG’D AWAY! But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.
Hamlet is rapt, and illumined by the radiant light of the Dragon.
But this eternal drama must not be
To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O list!
Hamlet is on his knees before the Dragon.
If thou didst ever thy dear father love --
The Dragon blasts Hamlet with its fiery breath.
REVENGE HIS FOUL AND MOST UNNATURAL MURDER!
Murder most foul, strange, and unnatural!
There is a pause as this sinks in. Then:
Haste me to know it, that I with wings as swift
As meditation or the thoughts of love
May sweep to my revenge!
I find thee apt.
And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,
Wouldst thou not stir at this. Now, Hamlet, hear.
‘Tis giv’n out that, sleeping in my orchard,
A serpent stung me,
so the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process of my death
BUT KNOW, THOU NOBLE YOUTH,
THE SERPENT THAT DID STING THY FATHER’S LIFE
NOW WEARS HIS CROWN!
The Dragon blasts Hamlet with another fiery breath.
O my prophetic soul! My uncle!
Ay, that incestuous, that adulterous 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!
The Dragon bounds down onto the Platform, towering over Hamlet, and now blasts Hamlet continuously with its fiery breath. Hamlet is beaten back and down, and ends lying on his back. The Dragon breath seems to enter into Hamlet, igniting him from within.
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 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!!
It moves back from its prey, and circles around.
But soft, methinks I scent the morning air:
Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard,
My custom always of the afternoon,
A BACKGROUND SCENE appears: essentially a flashback of the murder scene.
Claudius attacks Old Hamlet, who is dressed in robes, following the Dragon’s narrative.
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole
With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,
And in the porches of my ears did pour
The leperous distilment, whose effect
Holds such an enmity with the blood of man
That swift as quicksilver it courses through
The natural gates and alleys of the body,
And with a sudden vigor it stops and curds
The thin and wholesome blood. So did it mine.
Old Hamlet has a convulsion, and dies.
BACKGROUND SCENE OUT.
The Dragon attacks with its breath again.
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,
UNUNHOUSEL’D, DISAPPOINTED, UNANEL’D,
NO RECK’NING MADE, BUT SENT TO MY ACCOUNT
WITH ALL MY IMPERFECTIONS ON MY HEAD.
O HORRIBLE! O HORRIBLE! MOST HORRIBLE!!
Hamlet seems on fire, and glows just like the Dragon. The Dragon backs away.
If thou has nature in thee, bear it not,
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damned incest.
But howsomever 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.
The Dragon hops up onto the wall.
Fare thee well at once;
The dwindling stars show the morning to be near
And dawn begins to pale this eastern sky
Adieu, adieu, adieu. Remember me.
The Dragon takes off and flies away into the night. Hamlet is amazed, and not yet quite convinced.
O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else?
And shall I couple hell? O No! Hold, hold, my heart!
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me stiffly up.
Ay, thou poor ghost, whiles 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 my commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmixed with baser matter. YES, BY HEAVEN!
O MOST PERNICIOUS WOMAN!
O VILLAIN, VILLAIN, SMILING DAMNED VILLAIN!
My notebook. Meet it is I set it down
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain.
He makes a rapid sketch.
At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark.
INSERT -- SHOT OF SKETCH
Hamlet running Claudius through with his sword.
(continuing; to sketch)
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word.
It is ‘Adieu, adieu, remember me.’
I have sworn it.
My lord, my lord!
Heavens secure him!
So be it.
Hello! Ho! Ho! My lord!
Hello! Ho! Ho, boy! Come bird, come.
How is it, my noble lord?
What news, my lord?
Good my lord, tell it!
No, you will reveal it.
Not I, my lord, by heaven.
Nor I, my lord.
Nor I, my lord.
How say you then,
would heart of man once think it,
But you’ll be secret?
HORATIO + MARCELLUS
Ay, by heaven.
There’s never a villain dwelling in all Denmark --
But he’s an arrant knave.
There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
To tell us this.
(thinking better of it)
Why, right. You are in the right.
And so without more circumstance at all
I hold it fit that we shake hands and part,
You as your business and desire shall point you --
For every man hath business and desire,
Such as it is -- and for my own poor part,
I will go to pray.
LONG SHOT OF CASTLE
The boys are visible arguing on the Platform. PANNING SHOT. The Dragon comes into view, clinging to the outer wall of the castle, and then goes out of frame.
These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.
I am sure they offend you heartily,
Yes, faith, heartily.
(letting him go)
There’s no offense, my lord.
Yes by Saint Patrick but there is, Horatio,
And much offense too.
Touching this vision here,
It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you.
For you desire to know what is between us,
O’ermaster’t as you may. And now, good friends,
As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,
Give me one poor request.
What is’t, my lord? We will.
Never make known what you have seen tonight.
HORATIO + MARCELLUS
My lord, we will not.
Nay, but swear it.
In faith, my lord, not I.
Nor I, my lord, in faith.
Upon my sword.
We have sworn, my lord, already.
Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.
The voice seems to thunder from the skies.
Ah ha, boy, say’st thou so? Art thou there, truepenny?
Come on, you hear this fellow in the starry sky.
Consent to swear.
Marcellus first, and then Horatio, reach out to the sword, and then draws their hands back.
Propose the oath, my lord.
Never to speak of this that you have seen.
Swear by my sword.
Horatio and Marcellus are startled, and look around for the source of the voice.
Come hither, gentlemen,
And lay your hands again upon my sword.
Horatio and Marcellus come back.
Swear by my sword
Never to speak of this that you have heard.
Swear by his sword.
Hamlet breaks off, and addresses the sky.
Well said, old boy! A worthy soldier!
(clutching at his crucifix)
A day and a night but this is wondrous strange.
And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
Finally, they swear silently.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
Hamlet changes his mind again, thinking better of his course, and walks away. Then he thinks of something, and comes back with a new oath.
Here, as before, never, so help you...mercy,
How strange or odd some’er I bear myself,
As I perchance hereafter shall think meet
To put an antic disposition on;
He does a little dance.
That you, at such time seeing me, never shall,
With arms encumber’d thus, or this head-shake,
Or by pronouncing some doubtful phrase,
As ‘Well, we know,’ or ‘We could, and if we would,’
Or ‘If we were to speak,’ or ‘There’s a reason, and
if we might...’
Or some such ambiguous giving out, to note
That you know aught of me. This do swear,
So grace and mercy at your most need help you.
They put their hands upon the sword, and are ready to swear.
They do not pause this time, and complete the oath in silence. Then:
Rest, perturbed spirit! So, gentlemen,
With all my love I do commend me to you;
And what so poor a man as Hamlet is
May do t’express his love and friendliness to you,
God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together.
And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.
The time is out of joint. O cursed spite,
That ever I was born to set it right.
(to Horatio and Marcellus)
Nay, come, let’s go together.
They exit the Platform. It remains empty a moment. A breath of wind.
The Dragon is perched on a tower, overlooking the Platform, like a gigantic gargoyle.