What do the Danes think of Hamlet?
A state room in the castle.
The king, the queen, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, Voltimand, Cornelius, lords of the court and entourage.
Though of Hamlet's death, my dear brother,
The memory is still fresh; and whether it is in our hearts
Befitted to mourn, and the whole kingdom,
To wrinkle in a forehead of grief;
So far has judgment fought nature
That we remember it with wise sorrow, 
At the same time with the remembrance of ourselves.
So we have our sister at one time,
Now our queen, the high widow
And heiress of this warlike state,
With suppressed joy to say so
With a serene, wet eye,
With funeral cheers and with wedding lament,
Suffering and pleasure weighing in the same bowls,
Taken for marriage; have here too
Do not resist your better wisdom,
Which freely agreed with us. - For everything, thanks!
Well, you know, did young Fortinbras
Out of underestimation of our worth, and thinking
Through our dear, blessed brother's death
Our state be twisted and out of joint:
Based on this dream of his advantage,
To plague us with message is not lacking
To reproduce those lands
Legally lost by his father
To our brave brother. - So much for him;
Now from ourselves and your calling.
That's the business: we write here
To Norway, ohm of young Fortinbras,
The weak, bedridden, hardly from this attack
The nephew hears the same distant passage
To inhibit in this; sintemal the advertising,
Existence and number of troops, all of them
Happens from his people; and now send
You, brave Voltimand, and you, Cornelius,
With this greeting to old Norway,
Handing you no further authority,
To act with the king as the measure
The article discussed here admits.
Farewell, and hurry to recommend your zeal!
CORNELIUS AND VOLTIMAND.
Here, as in everything, we want to show it.
We do not doubt it. Farewell!
Exit Voltimand and Cornelius.
And now, Laertes, say what are you bringing us?
You mentioned a request: what is it, Laertes?
You cannot speak of reason to the Dane,
And lose your word. Can you ask
What I don't like to grant before you ask for it?
The head is no longer related to the heart,
The hand of the mouth is not more serviceable,
When Denmark's throne is your father.
What do you want, Laertes?
Perk to return to France,
Whence I willingly came to Denmark,
To do my duty at your coronation;
But now I confess that the duty has been fulfilled
My thoughts and desires strive for France
And bows to your gracious permission.
Does your father allow you? What does Polonius say?
He has, my lord, the hesitant permission
Forced from me by persistent pleading,
That at his request I would finally get the seal
The difficult grant depressed.
I ask you to give him permission to go!
Take your favorable hour: time be yours,
And your own adornment; use them as you wish! -
But now, my cousin Hamlet and my son -
More than friend, less than friend.
How, are there still clouds hanging over you?
No, my lord, I have too much sun.
Throw off, good Hamlet, the night color,
And let your eyes see Denmark as a friend!
Don't keep looking with lowered eyelashes
According to your noble father in the dust:
You know it's mean: what lives must die
And acquire Ew'ges according to temporality.
Yes, madam, it's mean.
Why does it seem so special to you? 
Seems, madam? No is; I don't mean "seems".
Not just my gloomy coat, good mother,
Still the usual dress of serious black,
Still stormy sighs' oppressed odems,
Even in the eye the abundant stream,
Still the hunched posture of the face,
With all custom, kind, form of grief,
Is that what truly makes known to me; this really seems:
There are signs that one could play.
What about all appearances, I carry in me;
All this is only sorrow's dress and ornament.
It is very dear and glorious to your heart, Hamlet,
To perform this duty of mourning for the father.
But know, your father also died a father;
To him, and to those who are left behind,
After a child's commitment, for a while
Keeping the funeral mourning. But to persevere
The doing is in idiosyncratic complaints
Wicked stubbornness; is unmanly suffering;
Shows a will that defies heaven
An ungentled heart and wild mind;
Shows stupid, disobedient mind.
What one knows must be; what common
Like the meanest thing that stirs the senses:
Why that in sullen resistance
Take to heart? Pooh! it is passing away
In the sky; is offense to the dead,
Perish on nature; before reason
Most foolish, their general sermon
The fathers are dead, and they always cried
From the first corpse to the deceased today:
"It has to be like this." We ask you to throw it to the ground
This sterile suffering, and think of us
As a father; because the world should know
That you are next to our throne,
And with no less exuberance of love
When his dearest father dedicates to his son, 
I am fond of you. What your return
Concerning high school in Wittenberg,
So it highly contradicts our wish,
And we ask you to stay popular
Here in the mild glow of our eyes,
As our first courtier, cousin, son.
Don't let your mother ask wrongly, Hamlet:
Please stay with us, don't go to Wittenberg!
I will gladly obey you, madam.
Well, that's a lovely, lovely answer.
Be like ourselves in Denmark! - Come, wife!
Hamlet's willing, friendly indulgence
Sits smiling around my heart; and in honor of that
Shall the gun every drink today,
Bring Denmark to the clouds,
And when the king rings, heaven should
The roar of earthly thunder. - Come with me!
Exit King, Queen, Laertes, and retinue.
O melt this all too firm flesh,
Dissolves and dissolves into a dew!
Or would not Ew'ge have his command
Directed against suicide! - O God! O God!
How disgusting, stale and flat and ineffable
Seems to me all the goings-on in this world!
Pooh! ugh about it! It's a desolate garden
Who shoots up in seeds; kinky weeds
Fulfills him completely. It must come to that!
Two moons first dead! - no, not so much, not two;
Such an excellent monarch! the one next to this
Apollo with a satyr; so loving my mother,
That the winds of heaven are not too rough
Her face was touching. Heaven and Earth!
Do I have to remember? Was she attached to him
As if the growth of her lust increased with
What their diet was. And yet, in a moon -
Don't make me think - weakness, your name is woman! -
A short moon; before the shoe is consumed, 
With which she followed my father's corpse,
Like Niobe, all tears - she, yes she;
O heaven! an animal that has no sense
But mourn longer. - married to my ohm,
My father's brother, but similar to him
As I do to Hercules: in a moon!
Before the salt of the most outrageous tears
The redness of sore eyes still left,
Was she married! - Oh, disgraceful haste, so quickly
To fall into a bloodthirsty bed!
It is not and it will never be good.
But break my heart! because my mouth must be silent.
Enter Horatio, Bernardo, and Marcellus.
Hail your Highness!
I am pleased. To see you well.
Horatio - if I don't forget myself?
Yes, prince, and your poor servant always.
My good friend; change that name for me!
What are you doing here from Wittenberg, Horatio?
My lord -
I am glad to see you. Have a good evening!
Seriously, what is taking you away from Wittenberg?
An idle slope, my prince.
I don't want to hear your enemy say that
You should still force my ear
That your own testimony against you
Would be valid to him. I know you are not idle.
But what is your business in Elsinore?
You should learn to drink before you travel.
I came to your father's funeral.
Please, do not scoff at me, my school friend;
You certainly came to my mother's wedding.
Indeed, my prince, she quickly followed.
Economy, Horatio! Economy! The baked
From the funeral there were cold wedding dishes.
If I would rather have the worst enemy in heaven 
Hit as lived the day, Horatio!
My father - I think I see my father.
Where, my prince?
In the eyes of my mind, Horatio.
I saw him once, he was a solid king.
He was a man, take it all in all
I will never see his own kind.
My prince, I think I saw him the night before.
My prince, the king, your father.
The king, my father?
Calms the astonishment for a while
Through an attentive ear; until I see this miracle
To the affirmation of the men here
You can report.
For God's sake let me hear!
Two nights in a row it was the two of them
Marcellus and Bernardo, on guard
In dead silence, deep midnight
So happened. A shadow like your father
(Armored, completely in defense, from head to toe,)
Appears before them, walks with a serious kick
Slowly by and stately; steps three times
Before her staring, terrified eyes
So that his staff can deliver them; while they
Curdled almost to gel by fear
Stand mute and don't talk to him. Now this
They trust me in fearful secrecy.
I kept watch with them the third night;
And there, as she reports, after the time
Shape of the thing, literally all true,
Comes the ghost. I knew your father:
Here these hands are no longer alike.
But where did this take place?
On the terrace where we kept watch.
You didn't talk to him?
I did, my prince
But there was no answer; only once did it appear 
It lifted its head and sent itself
To the movement as if it wanted to speak.
But just now the morning rooster crowed loudly,
And with the tone it slips away in a hurry
And vanished from our sight.
In my life, noble prince, it is true;
We kept it prescribed by duty,
The matter of making known to you.
Seriously, seriously, gentlemen, this frightens me.
Do you have the watch today?
Yes, my lord.
Armored, you say?
Armored, my lord.
From the vertebra to the toe?
From head to toe.
Didn't you see his face like that?
Oh yes, his visor was up.
Well, does he scowl?
One expression, more
Of suffering as anger.
Pale or red?
No, extremely pale.
His eyes fixed on you?
I wish I had been there.
You would certainly have been horrified.
Very believable. Was it long?
Meanwhile with moderate speed
You could count a hundred.
Not when I saw it.
His beard was old, wasn't it?
As I saw it in his life
A blackish silver gray.
I want to watch today.
Maybe it will come again. 
If it appears in my noble father's education,
That's how I address it, even hell itself yawns
And told me to be calm. I ask you all:
Have you hid this face until now,
So keep it still in your silence;
And whatever else may happen at night
Make sense of everything, but no tongue:
I want to reward you for love; farewell!
On the terrace between eleven and twelve
I visit you.
Your grace, our services!
No, your love, like mine you.
Exit Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo.
My father's spirit in arms!
Not everything is good: I suspect something
Of bad schemes. If the night were only here!
Until then, calm down, soul! Wicked deeds,
If the earth also hides them, they must betray themselves.
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