Chapter XIV: Prologue

And prologue to the omen coming on.
I, 1, 123.

Is this a prologue or the posy of a ring.
III, 2, 123.

Ere I could make a prologue to my brains
They had begun the play.
V, 2, 30.

QUALITY.

Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing?
II, 2, 268.

We’ll have a speech straight, come give us a taste of your quality,
come a passionate speech.
III, 2, 451.

In Shakespeare’s time the word was used technically, as applying to the profession of acting; in this sense the word is now obsolete. “Players, I love ye and your quality,” is a quotation from Davies’ “Microcosm,” 1603.

SCENE.

Scene individable or poem unlimited.
II, 2, 418.

An excellent play well digested in the scenes.
II, 2, 418.

Have by the very cunning of the scene.
II, 2, 619.

One scene of it comes near the circumstance
Which I have told thee of my father’s death.
III, 2, 81.

SHOW.

Belike this show imports the argument of the play.
III, 2, 149.

Will he tell us what this show meant.
III, 2, 153.

The word show in both these passages refers to the dumb-show which caused Ophelia to make these remarks. Although in modern slang the word show is used in connexion with a dramatic entertainment, this meaning did not exist in Shakespeare’s time: its only meaning in a theatrical sense, in the sixteenth century was of a spectacular nature, such as pageants, masques or processions on a large scale.

STAGE.

These are now the fashion and so berattle the common stages.
II, 2, 358.

He would drown the stage with tears.
II, 2, 588.

TRAGEDIAN.

Those who were wont to take such delight in the tragedians of the
city.
II, 2, 324.

TRAGEDY.

The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history.
II, 2, 416.

For us and for our tragedy.
III, 2, 159.

TRAGICAL.

Tragical, historical, tragical comical, historical pastoral.
II, 2, 417.

VICE.

A vice of kings.
A king of shreds and patches.
III, IV, 98.

The vice in the old morality was usually of a humourous and malicious character, deriving his name from the vicious qualities attributed to him in the old morality plays. His nature was wholly mischievous, and this trait permeated his entire being. The vice was generally dressed in a fool’s habit, hence the further reference to a king of shreds and patches. One of the meanings of patch is a piece of cloth sewed together, with others of varying shape and size and colour to form patchwork or adorn a garment. Shakespeare having previously alluded to the vice or fool, by association of ideas refers in a few lines later to his many-coloured garment.

HAMLET.

Why did you laugh then, when I said “man delights not me?”

ROSENCRANTZ.

To think, my lord, if you delight not in man what lenten
entertainment the players shall receive from you. We coted them on
the way, and hither are they coming, to offer you service.

HAM.

He that plays the king shall be welcome; his Majesty shall have
tribute of me; the adventurous knight shall use his foil and
target; the lover shall not sigh gratis; the humourous man shall
end his part in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs
are tickle o’ the sere, and the lady shall say her mind freely, or
the blank verse shall halt for’t. What players are they?

ROS.

Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the tragedians of
the city.

HAM.

How chances it they travel? Their residence, both in reputation and
profit, was better both ways.

ROS.

I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation.

HAM.

Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city?
Are they so followed?

ROS.

No, indeed they are not.

HAM.

How comes it? Do they grow rusty?

ROS.

Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonter place; but there is, sir,
an eyrie of children, little eyeases, that cry out on the top of
question and are most tyranically clapped for ’t. These are now the
fashion, and so berattle the common stages--so they call them--that
many wearing rapiers are afraid of goose-quills, and dare scarce
come thither.

HAM.

What, are they children? Who maintains ’em? How are they escorted?
Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing? Will
they not say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common
players--as it is most like, if their means are no better, their
writers do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their own
succession.

ROS.

Faith, there has been much to do on both sides, and the nation
holds it no sin to tarre them to controversy; there was for a while
no money bid for argument unless the poet and the player went to
cuffs in the question.

HAM.

Is’t possible?

GUILDENSTERN.

O, there has been much throwing about of brains.

HAM.

Do the boys carry it away?

ROS.

Ay, that they do, my lord. Hercules and his load, too.

This passage is particularly interesting to Shakesperean students, introducing as it does one of those veiled allusions to the contemporary stage, under the cloak of carrying on the ordinary dialogues of the play. The most unobservant reader will notice that this conversation in no way furthers the action of the play, and was simply brought in on a set purpose to interest the spectators in certain theatrical events of the day. Shakespeare, frequently in his dramas, refers to topical events which were quite clear to his audience, but in the course of ages the allusions were forgotten, and now only have a shadowy existence. A few commentators still squabble over these so-called references, in most instances failing to see any contemporary event embedded in the text, while others would discover contemporary allusions throughout a great majority of the plays. These topical references must be treated sensibly and logically; the safest plan is to completely ignore them without ample evidence is forthcoming of their real existence, otherwise it will surely lead the commentator into various pitfalls. Weaving imaginary theories out of these passages, which many editors of the past most delight in, is simplicity itself, but the modern reader very justly demands conclusive evidence before giving credence to these wild assumptions. In the above passage there can hardly exist a doubt that some stage event of the day is here discussed; the difficulty is to pluck out the heart of the mystery in the words “inhibition” and “innovation.” Although the scene is laid in Denmark, every reader will surely understand that Shakespeare is referring to the stage in London. By the tragedians of the city his own audience would be quick in detecting a reference to the celebrated actors of the Globe Theatre, which included the famous Richard Burbage, the creator of Hamlet and many other leading Shakesperean characters. In the query “how chances it they travel,” there is a reference to the custom of the London companies making their provincial tours. These tours were organized when the London theatres were closed, occurring chiefly through the raging of the plague, or want of funds necessary in carrying out a London season, or by some drastic measure imposed by certain authorities. One fact is certain, every company, whether successful or unsuccessful, made these regular provincial tours, evidence of which is abundant, and can be found in the archives of the principal towns in England.

By Hamlet’s question it would appear that only unsuccessful companies quitted the Metropolis, but on that point I can offer no satisfactory answer, except that Shakespeare in this passage was not alluding to the custom of the theatrical profession of his own times which, I think most readers will agree with me, is most unlikely.

The next quotation presents even greater difficulties. “I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation.” To anyone unacquainted with the theatrical practices of the Elizabethan times, this passage is altogether meaningless, even those possessing the requisite knowledge, the exact interpretation can only be dimly surmised. That there was some definite allusion to some theatrical event of the day, which the audience clearly understood is certain, otherwise the passage would have been explained in a further conversation. Now our duty is to pierce this Cimmerian darkness by discovering the true history of this inhibition, likewise the origin of the innovation. The word inhibition refers to the act of inhibiting or forbidding, a prohibition formally issued by a person or body possessed of civil authority. Innovation means the action of innovating or the introduction of novelties. A change made in the nature or fashion of anything. Something newly introduced, a novel practice or method. Armed with these dictionary explanations we can now proceed in applying them to the present passage.

If we might take a liberty with the text and follow Dr. Johnson’s emendation, we immediately get rid of one of the difficulties. Dr. Johnson proposed to transpose the order of the words to read: “I think their innovation comes by the means of the late inhibition.” By this simple expedient innovation would refer to their new practice of strolling and the inhibition to the cause of it.

In my opinion this new reading is a most ingenious correction, and if adopted would remove the difficulty of making Hamlet grasp immediately the cause of the innovation which was certainly unknown to him. By explaining innovation as referring to their travelling or strolling, and inhibition as a command to quit the Metropolis, for some offence, the answer appears satisfactory and needs no further elucidation. But this tampering with the text is high treason in the Shakesperean sense, and other solutions more in conformity with the rules of the game must be suggested. It is just possible that the word inhibition is a corruption due to the compositor mishearing the word exhibition, meaning that the players were exhibiting themselves in the country for some offence or other.

Theobald, the greatest of all Shakesperean commentators, suggested the word itineration, clearly indicating that he thought the word was a corruption.

The city and local authorities frequently prohibited the actors from playing in their theatres; sometimes refusing permission on account of the plague, on other occasions for disturbances caused by the gathering of a large concourse of people, more often by their prejudice and utter dislike of all theatrical performances. Any light pretext was sufficient to order an inhibition. In this particular instance it is difficult to account for any inhibition by the authorities. The innovation certainly referred to the competition of the child performers, although in Shakespeare’s time it was no innovation, the children having acted for many years previously. The Blackfriars Theatre was given up to the Children of the Queen’s Revels and the Children of the Royal Chapel and other boy companies, which the Queen encouraged not only by her presence at the Blackfriars Theatre but by allowing them several privileges. The Children of St. Paul’s were also a rival company, and acted with great applause, several dramatists of eminence writing plays for them as well as for the Blackfriars brigade. Hamlet bitterly laments these innovations, for which he has my hearty approval, the child performer on the stage or in the drawing room being my _bête noire_. Shakespeare’s sympathies being entirely on behalf of the men players. Other causes for the closing of the theatres were the custom of introducing matters of state and religion upon the stage, for which cause the Admiral and the Strange companies were severely censured and, no doubt, obliged to retire for a season. Personal abuse was also rampant, and led to the war of the theatres, a controversy carried on with much bitterness on all sides. Satirizing living persons and impersonating their peculiarities was another feature of the stage, which caused the imprisonment of Nash, the well-known dramatist. Lord Strange’s company got into a great scrape for playing the deposition scene in “Richard the Second,” much to the annoyance and anger of the Queen, at the time of the Essex rebellion. The Queen is reported to have said, “Know ye not that I am Richard the Second?” For this offence they were debarred from acting at Court, and also in London. During their prohibition they acted in the provinces, but it is hardly likely that Shakespeare would refer to his own company as being in disgrace. I only cite these instances as showing the theatrical customs of the day, and incidentally throwing light on the topical allusion in this passage. Attentive readers of Shakespeare’s works will in course of their perusal come across several of these tantalizing references, which are all the more interesting on account of the difficulty in solving them. Many a passage which runs so smoothly in the modern text owes its simplicity to the untiring efforts and scholarship of previous editors. One such editor, the famous Theobald, was a genius in restoring the true reading out of a mass of corruption in which he found the text, also in interpreting for later generations out of the way classical allusions and ancient customs. Some of his restorations and interpretations can only be considered as inspired, and all Shakesperean students should revere his memory. Without the aid of Theobald hundreds of passages would still have remained unintelligible, and Shakespeare himself owes him a debt of gratitude.

COMMON PLAYERS.

John Stephens, in his _Essays and Characters_, 1615, thus describes a common player: “Therefore did I prefix an epithet of ‘common’ to distinguish the base and artlesse appendants of our city companies, which oftentimes start away into rusticall wanderers and then, like Proteus, start back again into the citty number.”

HAMLET’S ADVICE TO THE PLAYERS.
III, 2.

HAM.

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly
on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I
had as lief the town crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air
too much, with your hand, thus; but use all gently; for in the very
torrent, tempest, and as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you
must acquire and beget a temperance, that may give it smoothness.
O, it offends me to the wound to hear a robustious periwig-pated
fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears
of the groundlings, who, for the most part, are capable of nothing
but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise. I would have such a fellow
whipped for o’erdoing Termagant; it out-herods Herod; pray you,
avoid it.

FIRST PLAYER.

I warrant your honour.

HAM.

Be not too tame neither, but let your discretion be your tutor;
suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this
special observance that you o’erstep not the modesty of nature,
for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose
end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as ’twere,
the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn
her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and
pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off, though it makes the
unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure
of the which one must in your allowance o’erweigh a whole theatre
of others. Oh, there be players that I have seen play, and heard
others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that
neither having the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian,
pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought
some of nature’s journeymen had made men and not made them well,
they imitated humanity so abominably.

FIRST PLAY.

I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us, sir.

HAM.

Oh, reform it altogether. And let those that play your clowns speak
no more than is set down for them, for there be of them that will
themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to
laugh too, though in the meantime some necessary question of the
play be then to be considered; that’s villanous, and shows a most
pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it.

In this passage the whole art of the actor is set down for all time. Only a practised and enthusiastic actor, who in reality was in love with his profession, and who saw the educating force and dignity of his calling, could have drawn up such an ennobling picture of the responsibility entrusted to the impersonators of the characters, who embodied the abstract and brief chronicles of the time. Voice, gesture, deportment, the actor’s indispensable gifts, are all in due proportion given prominence, nothing is forgotten, so that the mimic representative shall be as perfect as the exigencies of the stage will allow.

A copy of these rules should be hung up in every theatre of the land, so that the actor should be impressed with the dignity and elevating powers of his profession. There be players that I have seen who would have well profited by reading this passage before setting foot on the stage. It was not only in Shakespeare’s days that reformation was needed: how often in our days is a well-written part mangled out of recognition by the slovenliness and stupidity of the impersonator. Study this speech, and, if you are in danger of forgetting it, study it again; it is the very alpha and omega of your great art. Shakespeare’s motive in assigning this speech to Hamlet may be for the better instruction of the actor in delivering the dozen or sixteen lines, which Hamlet inserted in the play of Gonzago’s murder. “But if you mouth, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town crier spoke my lines.” Considering that Hamlet was collaborating in the play, which was to be played before the King and Queen he was naturally interested in its production. On the other hand, it seems rather presumptuous for an amateur to dictate to a professional how a play should be acted, especially in this instance, when Hamlet had already tested the quality of the actor by hearing his recital of a scene out of Æneas’ tale of Dido, which he afterwards criticised, eulogising the admirable manner in which the player had acquitted himself. When witnessed on the stage these trifling discrepancies pass unnoticed, but in the study, when the plays are submitted to a microscopical examination, the inexactitudes make us reflect, and in the cold light of reason accuse Shakespeare of being a careless writer.

THE MURDER OF GONZAGO.

HAM.

Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you play the “Murder of Gonzago?”

FIRST PLAY.

Ay, my lord.

HAM.

We’ll ha’t to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a speech
of some dozen or sixteen lines, which I would set down and insert
in ’t. Could you not?

FIRST PLAY.

Ay, my lord.

I have read most of the tales of the Italian novelists, but can find nothing answering to the description of the “Murder of Gonzago.” Hamlet refers in a later part of the play to the murder having been committed in Vienna. Gonzago is the duke’s name, his wife’s Baptista. In the dumb-show Gonzago is the King and Baptista the Queen, but in the dialogue they are named Duke and Duchess, a trivial oversight, due either to haste or carelessness; many such slight inaccuracies are found throughout Shakespeare’s works. The historians of Urbino mention a Duke of that state married to a Gonzago. Professor Dowden relates that this Duke was murdered in the same manner as the king in the dumb-show. He gives no reference for this statement. The Duke referred to was renowned for the splendour of his Court, also for his patronage of learning and the fine arts. He married Elizabeth Gonzago, the beautiful and accomplished daughter of Gonzago, Lord of Mantua. This Duke of Urbino was created a Knight of the Garter by Edward the Fourth; he died quite peacefully in 1508. I feel almost positive a story existed in which the details correspond to the action in the dumb-show. When Hamlet asks the first actor if he remembers the speech of Æneas’ tale to Dido all the critics thought that Shakespeare had invented the speech, but afterwards an unfinished play by Marlowe, completed by Nash, was discovered; it was entitled “Dido, Queen of Carthage.” A paraphrase of Marlowe’s lines is contained in Shakespeare’s version. Possibly some day we may discover the original story of the Murder of Gonzago.

You could for a need study a speech of some dozen
or sixteen lines.
II, 2, 560.

Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen embracing him and
he her. She kneels, and makes show of protestation unto him. He
takes her up, and declines his head upon her neck; lays him down
upon a bank of flowers; she, seeing him asleep, leaves him. Anon
comes in a fellow, takes off his crown, kisses it, and pours poison
in the King’s ears, and exit. The Queen returns; finds the King
dead, and makes passionate action. The Poisoner, with some two or
three Mutes, comes in again, seeming to lament with her. The dead
body is carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with gifts; she
seems loath and unwilling awhile, but in the end accepts his love.

OPH.

What means this, my lord?

HAM.

Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief.

OPH.

Belike this show imports the argument of the play?

(_Enter Prologue._)

HAM.

We shall know by this fellow; the players cannot keep counsel;
they’ll tell all.

OPH.

Will he tell us what this show meant?

HAM.

Ay, or any show that you’ll show him; be not you ashamed to show,
he’ll not shame to tell you what it means.

OPH.

You are naught, you are naught; I’ll mark the play.

PRO.

For, us and for our tragedy
Here stooping to your clemency,
We beg your hearing patiently.

HAM.

Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?

OPH.

’Tis brief, my lord.

HAM.

As woman’s love.

(_Enter two Players, King and Queen._)

P. KING.

Full thirty times hath Phœbus’ cart gone round
Neptune’s salt wash and Tellus’ orbed ground,
And thirty dozen moons with borrow’d sheen
About the world have times twelve thirties been,
Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands
Unite commutual in most sacred bands.

P. QUEEN.

So many journeys may the sun and moon
Make us again count o’er ere love be done!
But, woe is me! you are so sick of late,
So far from cheer and from your former state,
That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,
Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must;
For women’s fear and love holds quantity
In neither aught, or in extremity.
Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know,
And as my love is sized, my fear is so;
Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear,
Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.

P. KING.

Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too;
My operant powers their functions leave to do;
And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
Honour’d, beloved; and haply one as king
For husband shalt thou ----.

P. QUEEN.

Oh, confound the rest!
Such love must needs be treason in my breast;
In second husband let me be accurst!
None wed the second but who kill’d the first.

HAM (_Aside_).

Wormwood, wormwood!

P. QUEEN.

The instances that second marriage move
Are base respects of thrift, but none of love;
A second time I kill my husband dead,
Then second husband kisses me in bed.

P. KING.

I do believe you think what now you speak,
But what we do determine oft we break.
Purpose is but the slave to memory,
Of violent birth but poor validity;
Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree,
But fall unshaken when they mellow be.
Most necessary ’tis that we forget
To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt;
What to ourselves in passion we propose,
The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
The violence of either grief or joy
Their own enactures with themselves destroy;
Where joy most revels grief doth most lament;
Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.
This world is not for aye, nor ’tis not strange
That even our loves should with our fortunes change
For ’tis a question left us yet to prove,
Whether love lead fortune or else fortune love.
The great man down, you mark his favourite flies;
The poor advanced makes friends of enemies;
And hitherto doth love on fortune tend;
For who not needs shall never lack a friend;
And who in want a hollow friend doth try
Directly seasons him his enemy.
But, orderly to end where I begun,
Our wills and fates do so contrary run
That our devices still are overthrown,
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own;
So think thou wilt no second husband wed,
But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.

P. QUEEN.

Nor earth to me give food nor heaven light!
Sport and repose lock from me day and night!
To desperation turn my trust and hope!
An anchor’s cheer in prison be my scope!
Each opposite, that blanks the face of joy,
Meet what I would have well and it destroy!
Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife,
If, once a widow, ever I be wife!

HAM.

If she should break it now!

P. KING.

’Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile;
My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
The tedious day with sleep.

P. QUEEN.

Sleep rock thy brain;
And never come mischance between us twain!

(_Exit_).

HAM.

Madam, how like you this play?

QUEEN.

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

HAM.

O, but she’ll keep her word.

KING.

Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in ’t?

HAM.

No, no; they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence the world.

KING.

What do you call the play?

HAM.

The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the image of
a murder done in Vienna; Gonzago is the duke’s name; his wife’s,
Baptista: You shall see anon; ’tis a knavish piece of work; but
what o’ that? your majesty, and we that have free souls, it touches
us not; let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung.

(_Enter Player, as Lucianus._)

(_This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king._)

OPH.

You are as good as a chorus, my lord.

HAM.

Begin, murderer: pox, leave thy damnable faces and begin. Come: the
croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.

LUC.

Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;
Confederate season, else no creature seeing;
Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
With Hecate’s ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thy natural magic and dire property,
On wholesome life usurp immediately.

(_Pours the poison into the Sleeper’s ears._)

HAM.

He poisons him i’ the garden for ’s estate. His name’s Gonzago; the
story is extant, and written in very choice Italian; you shall see
anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago’s wife.

OPH.

The king rises!

HAM.

What, frighted with false fire!

QUEEN.

How fares my lord?

POL.

Give o’er the play.

KING.

Give me some light.--Away!

ALL.

Lights, lights, lights!

The question arises: were the lines which Hamlet proposed to write inserted in the play, and if so, can they be identified. Professor Seeley and others would fix on the lines commencing the player King’s speech: “I do believe you think what now you speak” (III, 2, 196), until “Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own” (III, 2, 223). The sentiments contained in these verses are, for the most part, trite aphorisms in no way affecting the murder scene, and can on that account be entirely rejected. The speech of Lucianus, commencing “Thoughts black” (III, 2, 266), are certainly more apt for the occasion, and had the desired effect of alarming the King. Had these lines numbered sixteen instead of six there would have been greater plausibility in assigning them to Hamlet. The intention was that these lines should have a direct bearing upon the play, and form an integral part of the whole, therefore these verses must also be dismissed. We can only surmise that Shakespeare intended the audience to believe that he in some measure revised a scene in the “Murder of Gonzago” to suit the present circumstances, which would avoid the improbability that a play existed which in every respect resembled Claudius’ crime. An attempt in picking out the actual lines is mere sophistication, and a profitless and useless discussion. In introducing a play within a play, Shakespeare endeavours to beguile the audience to believe in the reality of the play and in the artificiality of the play scene; for this purpose he employs rhyme couplets instead of the ordinary dialogue and blank verse. The style of the interlude is further mocked by the forced conceits and bombastic nature of the language. Note further the liberal use of classical names in the first few lines. One must admire Shakespeare’s resourcefulness in these small matters, and even greater contrast is shown in the recitation scene, which approves his act and judgement.