Contents
-BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD
William Shakespeare (1564–1616). The Tragedy of Hamlet Prince of Denmark.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Scene III
Act IV
The French camp near Dover
Enter KENT and a Gentleman
Kent.Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back, know you no reason?Gent.Something he left imperfect in the state, which since his coming forth is thought of; which imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger that his personal return was most required and necessary.Kent.Who hath he left behind him General?Gent.The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far.Kent.Did your letters pierce the Queen to any demonstration of grief?Gent.Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my presence;And now and then an ample tear trill’d downHer delicate cheek. It seem’d she was a queenOver her passion, who, most rebel-like,Sought to be king o’er her.Kent.O, then it mov’d her.Gent.Not to a rage; patience and sorrow stroveWho should express her goodliest. You have seenSunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tearsWere like a better way; those happy smiletsThat play’d on her ripe lip seem’d not to knowWhat guests were in her eyes, which, parted thence,As pearls from diamonds dropp’d. In brief,Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved,If all could so become it.Kent.Made she no verbal question?Gent.Faith, once or twice she heav’d the name of “father”Pantingly forth, as if it press’d her heart;Cried, “Sisters! sisters! Shame of ladies! sisters!Kent! father! sisters! What, i’ the storm? i’ the night?Let pity not be believ’d!” There she shookThe holy water from her heavenly eyes;And, clamour-moistened, then away she startedTo deal with grief alone.Kent.It is the stars,The stars above us, govern our conditions;Else one self mate and make could not begetSuch different issues. You spoke not with her since?Gent.No.Kent.Was this before the King return’d?Gent.No, since.Kent.Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear’s i’ the town;Who sometime, in his better tune, remembersWhat we are come about, and by no meansWill yield to see his daughter.Gent.Why, good sir?Kent.A sovereign shame so elbows him. His own unkindness,That stripp’d her from his benediction, turn’d herTo foreign casualties, gave her dear rightsTo his dog-hearted daughters,—these things stingHis mind so venomously, that burning shameDetains him from Cordelia.Gent.Alack, poor gentleman!Kent.Of Albany’s and Cornwall’s powers you heard not?Gent.’Tis so, they are afoot.Kent.Well, sir, I’ll bring you to our master Lear,And leave you to attend him. Some dear causeWill in concealment wrap me up a while;When I am known aright, you shall not grieveLending me this acquaintance. I pray you, goAlong with me.]Exeunt.
