Franco Zeffirelli: The Art of Entertainment Page #5

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in all Denmark...

but he's an arrant knave.

There needs no ghost, my lord,

come from the grave, to tell us this.

Right, you are in the right.

So I hold it fit we shake hands and part.

These are but wild and whirling words.

I am sorry they offend you, heartily.

Yes, faith, heartily.

- There's no offense, my lord.

- There is, Horatio, and much offense, too.

It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you.

And now, good friends,

grant me one poor request.

Never make known

what you have seen tonight.

- We will not.

- Upon my sword.

Swear.

Swear by my sword

never to speak of this that you have seen.

Never to speak of this

that you have heard.

Swear by his sword.

Day and night,

but this is wondrous strange.

And therefore as a stranger

give it welcome.

There are more things

in heaven and earth, Horatio...

than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

But come!

Here, as before, never,

so help you mercy...

how strange or odd so ever I bear myself...

as I perchance hereafter shall think meet

to put an antic disposition on...

never to note that you know aught of me.

This do swear!

We swear.

Rest.

Rest, perturbed spirit!

The time is out of joint.

O cursed spite,

that ever I was born to set it right.

Tomorrow is Saint Valentine's Day

All in the morning betime

And I a maid

At your window

To be your Valentine

- My lord!

- How now?

I think it sure that I have found

the very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.

Speak on that, that I do long to hear.

My liege, and madam...

to expostulate what majesty should be,

what duty is...

why day is day, night night,

and time is time...

were nothing but to waste night,

day, and time.

Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,

I will be brief.

Your noble son is mad.

Mad call I it...

for, to define true madness,

what is it but to be nothing else but mad?

- But let that go.

- More matter, with less art.

Madam, I swear I use no art at all.

That he is mad, 'tis pity, 'tis true.

'Tis true 'tis pity, and pity 'tis 'tis true.

A foolish figure, but farewell it,

for I will use no art.

Mad let us grant him, then.

And now remains...

that we find out the cause of this effect.

Or rather say, the cause of this defect...

for this effect defective comes by cause.

Thus it remains,

and the remainder thus. Perpend.

I have a daughter,

have while she is mine...

who, in her duty and obedience, mark,

hath given me this.

Now, gather and surmise.

"To the celestial...

"and my soul's idol,

the most beautified Ophelia."

That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase.

"Beautified" is a vile phrase.

But you shall hear.

Came this from Hamlet to her?

Good madam, stay awhile.

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