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Claudius' Soliloquy
1
Transcript
by: Kaitlyn Orce
Hamlet:
Claudius' Soliloquy
oh
my offense is rank
It smells to heaven
it hath the primal eldest curse
upon't a brother's murder
Pray can I not.
Though inclination
as will
be as
sharp
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,
And, like a man to double
business bound,I stand in pause
where I shall first begin,
And both neglect.
What if this cursèd hand
Were thicker than itself with brother’s blood?
Is there not rain
enough in the
sweet heavens
To wash it white
as snow
Whereto serves mercy
But to confront the visage of offence?
And what’s in prayer
but this twofold force,
To be forestallèd ere we come
to fall Or pardoned being down?
Then I’ll look up.
My fault is past.
But oh, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn,
“Forgive me my foul murder”?
That cannot be,
since I am still possessed
Of those effects for which I did the murder:
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
May one be pardoned
and retain th' offense?
In the corrupted currents of this world
Offense’s gilded hand may shove by justice,
And oft ’tis seen the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law.
But ’tis not so above.
There is no shuffling. There the action lies
In his true nature, and we ourselves compelled,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then? What rests?
Try what repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it when one can not repent?
O wretched state!
Heaven
Hell
O bosom black as death!
O limèd soul that, struggling to be free,
Art more engaged!
Help, angels. Make assay.
Bow, stubborn knees,
and, heart with strings of steel,
Be soft as sinews of the newborn babe.
All may be well.
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