The Shakspearian reader: a collection of the most approved plays of Shakspeare: carefully revised

Front matter

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Contents

Hamlet, PRI^'C£ of DE^-MARS, . •

Much Ado About Nothing, .

The Tempest, .....

Preface

At a period when the fame of Shakspeare is " striding the world hke a colossus," and editions of his works are multiplied with a profusion that testifies the desire awakened in all classes of society to read and study his imperishable compositions. — there needs, perhaps, but little apology for the following selections of his works, prepared expressly to render them unexceptionable for the use of Schools, and acceptable for Family reading. Apart from the fact, that Shakspeare is the " well-spring " from which may be traced the origin of the purest poetry in our language, — a long course of professional experience has satisfied me that a necessity exists for the addition of a work like the present, to our stock of Educational Literature. His writings are peculiarly adapted for the purposes of elocutionary exercise, when the system of instruction pursued by the Teacher is based upon the true principle of the art, viz. — careful analysis of the structure and meaning of language, rather than a servile adherence to the arbitrary and mechanical rules of Elocution.

To impress upon the mind of the pupil that words are the exposition of thought, and that in reading, or speaking, every shade of thought and feeling has its appropriate shade of modulated tone, ought to be the especial aim of every Teacher; and an author lil:e Shakspeare, whose ever}' line embodies a volume of meaning, should surely form one of our Elocutionary Text Books. I have invariably fou.nd that the attention of youthful pupils is more readily

VllJ. PREFACE.

awakened by the force and beauty of his language, than by that of all other writers. Interest is uniformly excited in the student by the infinite variety of character that our great poet introduces into his creations, whilst the perceptive faculties of the reader become quickened and roused into action by the wonderful power he exhibits in " making his persons act and speak by the influence of those general passions and principles by which all minds are agitated." The study of Elocution, under impressions so favorable, becomes an exercise truly intellectual, and the objectionable, but still necessary mechanism of the art, is reduced to its proper subordinate and auxiliary position.

That his entire works could not be introduced into schools is evident ; nor do the " Selections," " Beauties," and occasional "Extracts," found in our Class Readers, precisely meet the wants of a pupil. These are at best the " bricks," — unsatisfactory specimens of the imperishable structure that the genius of our poet has reared, for the admiration of every age and every clime.

" The real power of Shakspeare is not shown only by particular passages, but much also by the progress of his fables and the tenor of his dialogue." Unconnected extracts will always fail to interest and impress the young to the same extent as a coherent story and an animated scene.

Acting upon these convictions, I have endeavored to extract the essence, as it were, of sixteen of Shakspeare's most approved Dramas — preserving in each the main story entire, by the aid of brief explanatory notes connecting the selections. The strictly poetical passages have been generally retained in preference to the comic portions, my limits compelling me to a choice between the two. Conceding the necessity of this almost imperative choice, I believe that the selections are those, to which the lovers of Shakspeare most frequently and most satisfactorily recur.

Of the liberties I have been compelled to take with my author,

PREFACE. IX

I scarcely know how to speak with becoming propriety. I profess to share the common veneration entertained for the pure unmutilated text of Shakspeare ; and can estimate at what it is worth that ultra fastidiousness, which denounces the great " Poet of Nature " for having made his characters speak agreeably to the spirit of Ms own age. Still, in preparing a selection of his works for the express purpose contemplated in my design, I have not hesitated to exercise a severe revision of his language, beyond that adopted in any similar undertaking — " Bowdler's Family Shakspeare " not even excepted ; — and simply, because I practically know the impossibility of introducing Shakspeare as a Class Book, or as a satisfactory Reading Book for Families, without this precautionary revision.

To render the selections better adapted for expressive reading, I have also ventured to disencumber several passages of unnecessary circumlocution, consulting standard authorities to aid me in this portion of my labors.

I may be held amenable at the bar of criticism, for what may be deemed by many a profanation of Shakspeare.

In extenuation of my temerity, I may be permitted to say, that although the undertaking of such a work as the present, has been urged upon me by convictions, practically enforced, of its necessity, I have long been restrained from making the attempt from conscientious scruples as to its propriety. But to —

" Do B. great right ^^^

I have done

" A little wrong. ^^

Shakspeare, in the original, is effectually excluded from our Schools ; and modern refinement is fast banishing him from the Home Reading Circle. To bring his profound moral and intellectual teachings to bear upon the early mental training of the young, and to extend his genial influences around the Domestic Hearth.

X PREFACE.

seemed lo me justifiable attempts ; expedient to be made at all hazards.

I have therefore prepared these selections with such a carefully expurgated Text, that the Book may be introduced into our Schools with perfect confidence, by the most fastidious Teacher ; and with equal propriety it can be used for reading aloud in the most refined and pure-minded Family, or Social Circle.

In justice to myself, I may be permitted to add, that I have avoided, as far as it was practicable with the nature of my design, the substitution of any language of my own for the pure text of Shakspeare. I have been compelled occasionally to resort to the use of synonymes, but these have been adopted but sparingly. When difficulties beset me in the original, I have preferred, in most cases, excision to aUeration. I may possibly have

" Cut beyond the wound,

To make the cure complete ; ' '

but there is high medical authority for believing that this is the most successful treatment in desperate cases.

With this explanatory, and I may add, deprecatory preface, I submit the result of my humble, but very toilsome labors, to the test of public opinion.

New-York, February 22, 184^

LIFE

OF

WILLIAM SHAKSPEAllE

' The few incidents in Shakspeare's life are surrounded with doubt and fable ;' indeed, until lately, little could be said of his Biog-raphy, but that *' he was bom, lived, and died.'' The researches of Malone, and more recently those of ColUer, Knight, and Halliwell, have however thrown some Hght on the Poet's histor}\ and from these authorities w^e are enabled to compile a brief memoir of his life sufficient for our present design, referring the youthful student to the more elaborate sources to which we are indebted.

William Shakspeare was born at Stratford-upon-Avon, in the county of Warwick, England, in April, 1564. He was baptized on the 26th of the month, and a tradition exists that he was born on the 23d April, the anniversary of St. George the tutelar Saint of England. His father, John Shakspeare, was a wool-comber, or glover, who had risen above his somewhat obscure position by marrying a rural heiress. Mar}" Arden, possessed of a small estate in Warwickshire. Shakspeare's father rose to be high bailiff and chief alderman of Stratford : but became depressed ih circumstances about the year 1578.

William was the eldest of six surviving children, and after receiving some education in the grammar school of his native town, he is said to have been brought home to assist in his father's business. There is an entire blank in his history for several years of his early life, but it may well be conjectured, that he was then treasuring up materials for those imperishable works w^hich have rendered him the most eminent genius the world has ever produced. Some of his biographers have endeavored to prove that a portion of this period was passed in a lawyer's office, from the famiUarity he exhibits in his

XIV LIFE OF WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.

works, with technical legal phrase and illustrations. But similar evidence might be adduced to prove his preparation for the church, or for the medical profession, for his works abound in the profoundest theological truths, and he appears to be equally well skilled in the elementary knowledge of medical science.

The amount of Shakspeare's educational acquirements has been the subject of eager scrutiny and controversy. Ben Jonson, with whom he was on terms of intimate acquaintance, says, he had " little Latin and less Greek." This is admitting that he knew something of both languages. His choice of two classical subjects for his early poetry, Venus and Adonis, and Lucrece, and the numerous allusions in his Plays to the mythology of the ancients, appear to warrant the conclusion that he was, at least, deeply imbued with the spirit and taste of classical literature. But, genius such as Shakspeare's did not derive its inspiration from mere classical learning. He was doubtless an irregular student, yet his native intellect and comprehensive mind enabled him, by study and observation, and " almost by intuition, to treasure up stores of knowledge by which he subsequently distanced all the university-bred wits and authors of his

times."

On the 28th of November, 1582, Shakspeare was married to Anne

Hathaway, the daughter of a " substantial yeoman " of the village of Shottery, about a mile from Stratford, and in the year 1586, it is ascertained that he removed to London, and commenced the occupation of a Player.

Much conjectural speculation has been expended upon the probable causes, which induced Shakspeare to adopt the profession of an actor, but no authentic accounts can be traced to ascertain the precise facts. During the period of his father's elevation to office, companies of players were frequently in the habit of performing at Stratford ; among these players were several who were Shakspeare's townsmen. An acquaintance with these persons may naturally have been formed by the future Dramatist, and when circumstances induced him to quit Stratford, the intimacy with his old associates may have been resumed and his connection with the stage decided upon.

Shakspeare soon rose to distinction in the theatre, for in the year 1589 he became a shareholder in the Blackfriars Theatre. In 1596 he was a proprietor, and in 1603 he was named second in a new patent

LIFE OF WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. XV

granted to the King's Players, by James I., on that monarch's accession to the British throne.

That the extraordinary powers of Shakspeare as a Dramatic writer, was the cause of his rapid elevation in the theatre, is a fact almost beyond dispute, for his talents as an actor never appear to have risen beyond a respectable mediocrity. A contemporary authority (supposed to be Lord Southampton) says that he was " of good account in the company ;" and traditionary ?vidence assigns him the character of the " Ghost in Hamlet," and " Adam in As you Hke It." as being among the chief parts he sustained in liis own plays.

With the nobles, the wits, and poets of his day, he lived in familiar intercourse. Even royalty unbended to do honor to the immoital Dramatist ; his Plays were the favorite recreation of the haughty Elizabeth, and even the weak-minded James I. was not insensible to the genius of the great Poet. Ben Jonson, in a eulogy on Shakspeare, speaks of his Dramas, " That so did take EHza and our James ;" and other contemporary authorities confirm the fact of his popularity.

It is likely that Shakspeare began his career as a Dramatic Author by altering and adapting Plays for the Stage, furnished by other Dramatists, and subsequently, as he felt his powers expand, he poured forth in rapid succession that series of splendid Dramas, which are the imperishable monuments of his genius. No distinct chronological account can be given of these wonderful productions. It is however tolerably well estabhshed, that the whole of the thirty-seven Plays were produced before the year 1612, as it is supposed in that year he retired finally to his native towm, where he had previously purchased an estate, called New^ Place, the principal house in Stratford. He had by this time acquired a handsome competency ; and, in the words of his biographer Rowe, " The latter part of his life was spent, as all men of good sense will wish theirs to be, in ease, retirement, and the conversation of his friends."

Four years were passed by Shakspeare in this dignified retirement. He died on the 23d April, 1616, having just completed his fiftysecond year. His ^^idow survived him seven years. His tw^o daughters were both married at the time of his death, (his only son, Hanmet, had died in 1596,) but all these died without issue, and there now remains no lineal representative of the Poet. He was interred

XVI LIFE OF WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.

in the Church of Stratford-upon-Avon, where a monument to his memory still exists in good preservation, and a flat grave-stone in front of the monument indicates the Poet's grave. On the stone is inscribed these lines, which tradition ascribes to be his own composition.

" Good frend, for lesvs sake forbeare To digg the dvst encloased heare : 6IA be ye man yt spares thes stones, And cvrst be he yt moves my bones."

We close this brief and unsatisfactory memoir of the life of Shakspeare, by the following comprehensive summary of his character, by Hallam the Historian.

" The name of Shakspeare is the greatest in our literature. No man ever came near to him in the creative powers of his mind ; no man had ever such strength at once, and such variety of imagination."

PRIXCE OF DENMARK.

Shakspeare is supposed to have taken the Plot of this Play, from " the History o' Hamlet." as it is found narrated in Saxo Grammaticns, the Danish Histoiian. An Engiisl translation of this particular story was published during the Poet's life, entitled *' Historiof Hamblet, Prince of Denmark," and from this version, it is conjectured that Shak speare drew the materials, which have assisted him in this master-piece of tragic com position. As this Play is the most finished and the most popular of our Author'? productions, we have incorporated into our seletions nearly all the prominent scenes.

We cannot better introduce the youthful student into a just discrimiftatien of t>, leading characteristics of Hamlet, than by furnishing the following clear analysis from tL pen of Goethe, He says —

" It is clear to me that Shakspeare's intention was to exhibit th« effects of a great action imposed as a duty upon a mind too feeble for its accomplishment.

" In this sense. I find the character consistent throughout. There is an oak planted in a china vase, proper only to receive the most delicate flowers ; the roots strike out, and the vessel flies to pieces. A pure, noble, highly moral disposition, but without tha: energy of soul which constitutes the hero, sinks under a load which it can neither support nor resolve to abandon altogether. .^11 his oblig^ations are sacred to him ; but this alone is above his powers.

•' An impossibility is required at his hands ; not an impossibility in itself, but that which b so to him. Observe how he shifts, turns, hesitates, advances, and recedes ; how he is continually reminded and reminding himself of his great commission, which he, neverthe less, in the end, seems almost entirely to lose sight of; and this without ever recovering? his former tranquillity."

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Claudius, King^ 0/ Denmark.

Hamlet, son to the former, and nephew to the present King.

PoLoxR-s, Lord Chamberlain.

HonA.Tio, friend to Hamlet.

Lafktks, son to Polonius.

o

VoLTiMANl., Cornelius, ) CourtierB.

ROSENCRANTZ, GuiLDENSTEri-N, )

OsRic, a Courtier.

Another Courtier.

A Priest.

Marcellus, ) Oficers

Bernardo, ^ •^•' •

Francisco, a soldier.

Reynaldo, servant to Polonius.

A Captain.

An Ambassador.

Ghost of Hamlet's father.

FoRTiNBRAS, Princc of Norway.

Gertrude, Queen of Denmark, ajid mother of Hamlet. Ophelia, daughter of Polonius.

Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, Grave-diggers, Sailors, Messengers, and other Attendants.

SCENE,— Elsix\ore.

ACT L

SCENE I. — Elsinore. . A Platform before the Castle, Francisco on his post. Enter to Mm Bernardo.

Ber. Who's there ? *

Fran. Nay, answer me : stand, and unfola

Yourself.

Ber. Long live the king !

Fran. Bernardo ?

Ber. He.

Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour.

Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve ; get thee to bed, Francisco.

Fran. For this relief, much thanks : 'tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart.

Ber. Have you had quiet guard ?

Fran. Not a mouse stirring.

Ber. Well, good night.

If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Fran. I think I hear them — Stand, ho ! Who is there ?

Hor. Friends to this ground.

3Iar, And hegemen to the Dane.

Fran. Give you good night.

Mar. O, farewell, honest soklier :

Who hath reliev'd you ?

HAMLET. 'i

Fran. Bernardo hath my place.

Give you good night. \_Exii Fr'ancisc(

Mar. Holla, Bernardo !

Ber. Say.

What, is Horatio there ?

H(yt\ A piece of him.

Ber. Welcome, Horatio ; welcome, good Marcellus.

Hor. What, has this thing appear'd again to-night ?

Ber. I have seen nothing.

Mar. Horatio says, 'tis but our fantasy ; And will not let belief take hold of him.

Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us : Therefore I have entreated him, along With us to watch the minutes of this night ; j

That, if again this apparition come, ;

He may approve our eyes, and speak to it. j

Hor. Tush ! tush ! ''twill not appear. -[\

Ber, Sit down awhile ; ; .

And let us once again assail your ears, .' ;

That are so fortified against our story, What we two nights have seen. I

Hor. Well, sit we down.

And let us hear Bernardo speak of this. !

Ber. Last night of all, |

When yon same star, that's westward from the pole, ; j!

Had made his course to illume that part of heaven -yj

Where now it burns, Marcellus, and myself, ''^:

The bell then beating one, — '^

Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again !

Enter Ghost.

Ber. In the same figure, like the king that's dead.

Mar. Thou art a scholar, speak to it, Horatio.

Ber. Looks it not like the king ? mark it, Horatio.

Hor. Most like : it harrows me with fear, and wonder. '<

Ber. It would be spoke to. j

Mar. Speak to it, Horatio. %

Hor. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of night, g

Toofether with that fair and warlike form |

In which the majesty of buried Denmark f!

Did sometimes march ? by heaven T charge thee, speak.

Mar. It is offended.

Ber. See ! it stalks away.

Hor. Stay ; speak : speak,! charge thee, speak. yExit Ghost.

Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer.

Ber. How now, Horatio ? you tremble, and look pale : Is not this something more than fantasy ?

What think you of it ?

Hor, T miofht not this believe.

4 SHAKSFEARIAN READER.

Without the sensible and true avouch Of mine own eyes.

Mar. Is it not like the king ?

Hor. As thou art to thyself : Such was the very armour he had on, When he the ambitious Norway combated ; So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle, He smote the sledded Polack on the ice. 'Tis strange.

Mar. Thus, twice before, and jump at this dead hour. With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.

Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not i But, in the gross and scope of mine opinion, This bodes some strange eruption to our state. In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A Httle ere the mightiest Junius fell.

The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets. As, stars with trains of fire shed dews of blood, Disaster's dimm'd the sun ; and the moist star. Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands, Was sick almost to dooms-day with eclipse. And even the like precurse of fierce events, — As harbingers preceding still the fates.

And prologue to the omen coming on, — Have heaven and earth together demonstrated Unto our climates and countrymen. —

Re-enter Ghost.

But, soft ; behold ! lo, where it comes again ! I'll cross it, though it blast me. — Stay, illusion ! If thou hast any sound, or use of voice, Speak to me :

If there be any good thing to be done, That may to thee do ease, and grace to me. Speak to me :

If thou art privy to thy country's fate, Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid, O, speak !

Or, if thou hast uphoarded in thy fife Extorted treasure from the depths of earth, For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death : Speak of it : — stay, and speak. [Exit Ghost.

Mar. 'Tis gone !

We do it wrong, being so majestical, To offer it the show of violence.

Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew.

Hor. And then it started like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons. I have heard,

HAMLET. ^ j

The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, {

Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat j

Awake the god of day ; and, at his warning, j

Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, ]

The extravagant and erring spirit hies

To his confine : and of the truth herein '

This present object made probation.

Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock.

Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes I

Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, ;

This bird of dawning singeth all night long : And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad ; The nights are wholesome ; then no planets stiike. No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to harm. So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.

Hor. So have I heard, and do in part believe it. But. look, the morn, in russet mantle clad. Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill : Break we our watch up ; and, by my ad\ice, Let us impart what we have seen to-night Unto young Hamlet : for, upon my life.

This spirit, dumb to us, \\-ill speak to him : Do you consent v\'e shall acquaint him with it, As needful in our loves, fitting our duty ?

Mar. Let's dot, I pray ; and I this morning know Where we shall find him most convenient. [Exeunt

SCENE IL — The same. A Room of State in tlie same.

Enter the King, Queen, Hamlet, PoLONirs, Laertes, Lords, and x\ttendants.

King. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death The memory be green ; and that it us befitted To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow of woe ; Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature, That we with wisest sorrow think on himx.

Together with remembrance of ourselves.

Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, The imperial jointress of this warlike state, Have we, as 'twere, with a defeated joy, — Taken to wife : nor have we herein barr'd Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone With this affair along : — For all, our thanks. x\nd now, Laertes, what's the news with you ? You told us of some suit ? What is't, Laertes ? ||

Laertes. My dread lord, [ij

Your leave and favor to return to France; .j

I e SHAKSPEARIAN READER.

From whence though willingly I came to Denmark, To show my duty in your coronation ; Yet now, I must confess, that duty done, My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France, And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon. ^ , . ^ King. Have you your father's leave ? What says Polonius ? Ful He hath, my lord, — I do beseech you, give him leave to go.

King. Take thy lair hour, Laertes ; time be thine, And thv best graces : spend it at thy will.—

But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,

Ham. A little more than kin, and less than kmd. [Aside, King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you ? Ham. Not so, my lord, I am too much i' the sun. Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. Do not, for ever, with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust : Thou know'st, 'tis common ; all that live, must die, Passing through nature to eternity.

Ham. Ay, madam, it is common.

Queen. If it be,

Why seems it so particular with thee ?

Ham. Seems, madam ! nay, it is ; I know not seems. 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage.

Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief. That can denote me truly : These, indeed, seem. For they are actions that a man might play : But I have that within, which passeth show ; These, but the trappings and the suits of woe.

King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, To give these mourning duties to your father : But, you must know, your father lost a .''ather ; That father lost, lost his ; and the survivor bound, In filial obligation, for some term To do obsequious sorrow : But to persever In obstinate condolement, is a course Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief: It show^s a w^ill most incorrect to heaven ; A heart unfortified, or mind impatient : ^ An understanding simple and unschool'd : For what, we know, must be ; and is as common As any of the most vulgar thing to sense.

Why should we, in our peevish opposition, Take it to heart ? Fye ! 'tis a fault to heaven.

TAMLET. ^

We pray you, throw to earth This unprevaihng woe ; and think of us As of a father : for let the world take note, You are the most immediate to our throne ; Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.

Queen. Let not tliy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet; I pray thee stay with us ; go not to Wittenberg.

Htim. T shall in all my best obey you, madam.

King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply ; Be as ourself in Denmark. — Madam, come ; This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet Sits smiUng to my heart : in grace whereof. No jocund health, that Denmark drinks to-day, But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell ; Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.

[Exeunt KrxG, Queex, Lords, cf-c, Polonius, and Laertes.

Ham. O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew !

Or that the Everlasting had not flx'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter !

How wearj^ stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the usee of this world !

Fye on't ! O fye ! 'tis an unw^eeded garden, That grows to seed ; things rank, and gross in nature. Possess it merely. That it should come to this ! But two months dead ! — nay, not so much, not two ; So excellent a king ; that was, to this, Hyperion to a sat}T : so loving to my mother. That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth ! Must I remember ? And yet, within a mionth, — Let me not think on't ; — Frailty, thy name is woman ! — A little month ; or ere those shoes were old, With which she follow'd my poor father's body. Like Niobe, all tears ; — why she, even she, — O heaven ! a beast, that wants discourse of reason. Would have mourn'd longer, — married with my uncle, My father's brother ; but no more like my father. Than I to Hercules : It is not, nor it cannot come to. good ; But break, my heart ; for I must hold my tongue !

Enter Horatio, Bernardo, and Marcellus.

Hor. Hail to your lordship !

Ham. I am glad to see you well :

Horatio, — or I do forget myself.

Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. Ham. Sir, my good friend ; I'll change that naxiie uith you.

8 SHAKSPEAKIAN KEADEE,

And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio ? — Marcellus ?

Mar. My good lord.

Ham. I am very glad to see you ; good even, sir, — But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg ?

Hot. a truant disposition, good my lord.

Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so ; Nor shall you do mine ear that \iolence, To make it truster of your own report Against yourself : I know, you are no truant. But what is your affair in Elsinore ?