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That "w" string tells the open function that we don't want to read from this file object. As you can imagine, "w" stands for write. You can think of the first argument, e. It's worth stopping for a moment and considering: what happens when we try to open an existing file path to write to? The answer: if you give the open function an existing filename with the intention of writing to it — whatever existed at that filename is permanently erased.

There is no Recycle Bin at the programming level. The Python interpreter just assumes you know what you're doing, and won't even throw an error or warning.

It will just wipe out the existing file before writing to it. So consider this your warning to be incredibly mindful whenever you want to write a file to disk. What is that newfile variable pointing to? Use the type function to find out:. For simplicity's sake, I'm just going to refer to it as a "file object" or file stream object.

Let's use the Tab autocomplete to get its list of methods:. You can guess that the write function is what we want. But this object also has a read function…That's because it's a file object, and file objects can be written to or read from.

It doesn't matter how we called the open function. There is how Python reminds us that the file is not meant to be read from, since we called open with the "w" argument. Now that we have that cleared up, let's just write to the file. You can pass in a string object as the argument, and call write as many times as you want to:. The write function returns the number of characters that was written to the file. After we've finished writing to the file, we call the close function:.

Now switch to your text editor and look for the file you just created. If you've been following this example, the filename we used is: somenewfile.

Shakespeare undoubtedly learned from Marlowe's Edward II how to put together an historical play that should be more than a mere pageant of violence, but in the theme of the weak monarch and the usurping strong noble Henry Bolingbroke deposes Richard li and turns himself into Henry IV the followers of the Earl of Essex saw a tract for the times.

Elizabeth was, so many thought, becoming senile; in the absence of a declared heir to the throne should not the rule go to that great popular hero--soldier and flower of chivalry-Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex? Whether Shakespeare deliberately intended his Richard II as a work of propaganda we cannot know, but wc do know that the play was soon to be regarded as inflammatory and, indeed, was used as an act of inflamma- tion when a special performance of it preceded the Essex rebellion in The Spanish were causing trouble again, the French had allowed them to take Calais, and the play is full of fickle France and defiant England.

It was a painful year for Shakespeare, anda certain failure nf inspiration makes this play the worst, probably, ofhis maturity, but the year ended with his being confirmed in the rank of gentleman, complete with coat of arms, and his making arrangements to purchase New Place, the finest house in Stratford. Prom then on the plays breathe maturity and confidence. The character of Sir John Falstaff, who holds up the action gloriously, is, as L. Knights put it, the meat surrounded by dry historical bread.

Lechery does not suit Falstaff; and he has played out his wit in a more congenial setting. Although the theme was the conquest of France, Shakespeare undoubtedly had in mind the impending conquest of Ire- land-a conquest unfulfilled, alas-by the Earl of Essex.

The Chorus of Henry V, who reminds us that the new theatre is a 'wooden O', makes a direct reference to him: Were now the general of our gracious emprcss- As in good time he may-from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful City quit To welcome him!

But, with the shamed return of unvictorious Essex, these patriotic en- largements turned sour, and, indeed, English history became a danger- ous thing to present upon the stage: it was too easy to find, in any aspect of England's past, seditious parallels to thc presem. History from now on had to bc remote and foreign-]ufius Caesar, Coriofanus, and any other tales of ancient Rome Shakespeare could filch from Suetonius and Plutarch.

Will Kemp, with his leers, trippings and lewd improvisations, had been the highly popular funny man of the Lord Chamberlain's Men, but now Shakespeare was conceiving of a more subtlc, complex clown, one who could sing sad songs and stick to the script.

Kemp left the company, and Robin Armin took his place. As You Like lt is a fine pastoral comedy with a melancholy character called Jaques-- Shakespearc's attempt at outdoing Chapman, who had created a notable black-suited melancholic called Dowceser--who recites a speech that makes a direct reference to the motto of the Globe Theatre, woven on its flag under the representation of Hercules carrying the world on his shoulders: Totus mundus a,l!

When the Earl of Essex revolted and tried to smash the order of the English commonweal, Shakespeare gave up political preaching. He was silent for a whole year, or very nearly, and then he summed up the whole of the dying Elizabethan age-the conflict be- tween inherited mediaeval thought and the new scepticism, the inherent sickness of the world-in Hamlet. It is perhaps this one play, of ali the plays ever written, that the world would least willingly be without, and it ushers in a period of Shakespeare's maturity which is marked by dis- illusion and hopelessness.

That great phase belongs to the Jacobean period, not the Elizabethan. None of the euphoria of this promotion, and his undoubted establishment as greatest poet of his time, is found reflected in his work, even in the comedies.

I that Ends Wel! Coriolam1s has, in its title role, a man who despises the mob, perhaps as Shakespeare was learning to despise it. I 1hing of the redemptive power of an innocent female sou! The Winter' s Tale, Pericies perhaps not so great and perhaps only half Shakespeare's work and The Tempest are in a new and delicious vein of lyricism; the tragic bitterness has been purged, the magician buries his staff and awaits his serene end.

Another G lobe was to be built, but it would not concern the living Shakespeare. He had put so much of himself into thc lifc of that 'wooden ' that its destruction must have becn like the destruction of a faculty or a limb. Although he still had three years to live, the end of the great Globe marks the end of his career.

I t was, to put it mildly, one of the most astonishing literary careers in ali history. Wherein chiefly lies Shakespeare's greatness? He could do as well in tragedy as the tragic specialists, and-in astonishing works like Hamlet-fac better. It is an all-round dramatic excellence, and it is served by a supreme gift of language.

We remember a few characters from other playwrights-superb creations like the Duchess of Malfi or Tamburlaine or De Flores or Volpone-but nobody gives us so vast a gallery of living personages as Shakespeare. He en- closes thc playwrights ofhis time; heis twenty men in one, and heis also himself, enigmatic but curiously sympathetic.

His greatness was summed up by Dumas: 'Next to God, Shakespeare has created most. Open navigation menu. Close suggestions Search Search. User Settings. Skip carousel. Carousel Previous. Carousel Next. What is Scribd? Uploaded by Bruna Carolina. Did you find this document useful? Is this content inappropriate? Report this Document. Flag for inappropriate content. Download now. Related titles. Carousel Previous Carousel Next. Jump to Page.

And now, good friends, As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, Give me one poor request. What is't, my lord? We will. Never make known what you have seen to-night. Nay, but swear't. In faith, My lord, not I. Nor I, my lord- in faith. Upon my sword. We have sworn, my lord, already. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. Ghost cries under the stage. Aha boy, say'st thou so? Art thou there, truepenny? Come on! You hear this fellow in the cellarage. Consent to swear. Propose the oath, my lord. Never to speak of this that you have seen.

Swear by my sword. Hic et ubique? Then we'll shift our ground. Come hither, gentlemen, And lay your hands again upon my sword. Never to speak of this that you have heard: Swear by my sword. Well said, old mole! Canst work i' th' earth so fast? Once more remove, good friends.

O 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. Here, as before, never, so help you mercy, How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself As I perchance hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on , That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, With arms encumb'red thus, or this head-shake, Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, As 'Well, well, we know,' or 'We could, an if we would,' Or 'If we list to speak,' or 'There be, an if they might,' Or such ambiguous giving out, to note That you know aught of me- this is not to do, So grace and mercy at your most need help you, Swear.

Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So, gentlemen, With all my love I do commend me to you; And what so poor a man as Hamlet is May do t' express his love and friending to you, God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together; And still your fingers on your lips, I pray. The time is out of joint. O cursed spite That ever I was born to set it right! Nay, come, let's go together. Enter Polonius and Reynaldo.

Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo. I will, my lord. You shall do marvell's wisely, good Reynaldo, Before You visit him, to make inquire Of his behaviour. My lord, I did intend it. Marry, well said, very well said. Look you, sir, Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; And how, and who, what means, and where they keep, What company, at what expense; and finding By this encompassment and drift of question That they do know my son, come you more nearer Than your particular demands will touch it.

Ay, very well, my lord. As gaming, my lord. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling, Drabbing. You may go so far. My lord, that would dishonour him. Faith, no, as you may season it in the charge. You must not put another scandal on him, That he is open to incontinency. That's not my meaning. But breathe his faults so quaintly That they may seem the taints of liberty, The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind, A savageness in unreclaimed blood, Of general assault.

But, my good lord- Polonius. Wherefore should you do this? Ay, my lord, I would know that. Marry, sir, here's my drift, And I believe it is a fetch of warrant. Very good, my lord. And then, sir, does 'a this- 'a does- What was I about to say? By the mass, I was about to say something! Where did I leave? At 'closes in the consequence,' at 'friend or so,' and gentleman. At 'closes in the consequence'- Ay, marry!

He closes thus: 'I know the gentleman. I saw him yesterday, or t'other day, Or then, or then, with such or such; and, as you say, There was 'a gaming; there o'ertook in's rouse; There falling out at tennis'; or perchance, 'I saw him enter such a house of sale,' Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth. See you now- Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth; And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, With windlasses and with assays of bias, By indirections find directions out. So, by my former lecture and advice, Shall you my son.

You have me, have you not? My lord, I have. God b' wi' ye, fare ye well! Good my lord! Observe his inclination in yourself. I shall, my lord. And let him ply his music. Well, my lord. What's the matter? O my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted! With what, i' th' name of God? My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd, No hat upon his head, his stockings foul'd, Ungart'red, and down-gyved to his ankle; Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other, And with a look so piteous in purport As if he had been loosed out of hell To speak of horrors- he comes before me.

Mad for thy love? My lord, I do not know, But truly I do fear it. What said he? He took me by the wrist and held me hard; Then goes he to the length of all his arm, And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow, He falls to such perusal of my face As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so. That done, he lets me go, And with his head over his shoulder turn'd He seem'd to find his way without his eyes, For out o' doors he went without their help And to the last bended their light on me.

Come, go with me. I will go seek the King. I am sorry. No, my good lord; but, as you did command, I did repel his letters and denied His access to me. That hath made him mad.

I fear'd he did but trifle And meant to wrack thee; but beshrew my jealousy! By heaven, it is as proper to our age To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions As it is common for the younger sort To lack discretion. Come, go we to the King. This must be known; which, being kept close, might move More grief to hide than hate to utter love.

Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Moreover that we much did long to see you, The need we have to use you did provoke Our hasty sending.

Something have you heard Of Hamlet's transformation. So I call it, Sith nor th' exterior nor the inward man Resembles that it was. What it should be, More than his father's death, that thus hath put him So much from th' understanding of himself, I cannot dream of. I entreat you both That, being of so young days brought up with him, And since so neighbour'd to his youth and haviour, That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court Some little time; so by your companies To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather So much as from occasion you may glean, Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him thus That, open'd, lies within our remedy.

Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you, And sure I am two men there are not living To whom he more adheres. If it will please you To show us so much gentry and good will As to expend your time with us awhile For the supply and profit of our hope, Your visitation shall receive such thanks As fits a king's remembrance.

Both your Majesties Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, Put your dread pleasures more into command Than to entreaty. But we both obey, And here give up ourselves, in the full bent, To lay our service freely at your feet, To be commanded. Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern. Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz. And I beseech you instantly to visit My too much changed son. Heavens make our presence and our practices Pleasant and helpful to him!

Ay, amen! Enter Polonius. Th' ambassadors from Norway, my good lord, Are joyfully return'd. Thou still hast been the father of good news. Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege, I hold my duty as I hold my soul, Both to my God and to my gracious king; And I do think- or else this brain of mine Hunts not the trail of policy so sure As it hath us'd to do- that I have found The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.

O, speak of that! That do I long to hear. Give first admittance to th' ambassadors. My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in. I doubt it is no other but the main, His father's death and our o'erhasty marriage. Well, we shall sift him. Say, Voltemand, what from our brother Norway? Most fair return of greetings and desires. Upon our first, he sent out to suppress His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack, But better look'd into, he truly found It was against your Highness; whereat griev'd, That so his sickness, age, and impotence Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys, Receives rebuke from Norway, and, in fine, Makes vow before his uncle never more To give th' assay of arms against your Majesty.

Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy, Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee And his commission to employ those soldiers, So levied as before, against the Polack; With an entreaty, herein further shown, [Gives a paper.

It likes us well; And at our more consider'd time we'll read, Answer, and think upon this business. Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together. Most welcome home! Exeunt Ambassadors. This business is well ended. My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night is night, and time is time.

Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief. Your noble son is mad. Mad call I it; for, to define true madness, What is't 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 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.

Now gather, and surmise. But you shall hear. Thus: [Reads. Came this from Hamlet to her? Good madam, stay awhile. I will be faithful. But how hath she Receiv'd his love? What do you think of me? As of a man faithful and honourable. I would fain prove so. But what might you think, When I had seen this hot love on the wing As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that, Before my daughter told me , what might you, Or my dear Majesty your queen here, think, If I had play'd the desk or table book, Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb, Or look'd upon this love with idle sight?

What might you think? No, I went round to work And my young mistress thus I did bespeak: 'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star.

This must not be. Which done, she took the fruits of my advice, And he, repulsed, a short tale to make, Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension, Into the madness wherein now he raves, And all we mourn for. Do you think 'tis this? Not that I know. If circumstances lead me, I will find Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed Within the centre.

How may we try it further? You know sometimes he walks for hours together Here in the lobby. So he does indeed. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him. Be you and I behind an arras then. If he love her not, And he not from his reason fall'n thereon Let me be no assistant for a state, But keep a farm and carters.

We will try it. But look where sadly the poor wretch comes reading. Away, I do beseech you, both away I'll board him presently.

O, give me leave. Well, God-a-mercy. Do you know me, my lord? Excellent well. You are a fishmonger. Not I, my lord. Then I would you were so honest a man. Honest, my lord? Ay, sir. To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man pick'd out of ten thousand. That's very true, my lord. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god kissing carrion- Have you a daughter? I have, my lord. Let her not walk i' th' sun.

Conception is a blessing, but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to't. Still harping on my daughter. Yet he knew me not at first.

He said I was a fishmonger. He is far gone, far gone! And truly in my youth I suff'red much extremity for love- very near this. I'll speak to him again. Words, words, words. What is the matter, my lord? Between who? I mean, the matter that you read, my lord. Slanders, sir; for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber and plum-tree gum; and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams.

All which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down; for you yourself, sir, should be old as I am if, like a crab, you could go backward. Into my grave? Indeed, that is out o' th' air. I will leave him and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter.

You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more willingly part withal- except my life, except my life, except my life, Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Fare you well, my lord. These tedious old fools! You go to seek the Lord Hamlet. There he is. Exit [Polonius]. My honour'd lord! My most dear lord! My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both?

As the indifferent children of the earth. Happy in that we are not over-happy. Nor the soles of her shoe? Neither, my lord.

Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favours? Faith, her privates we. In the secret parts of Fortune? What news? None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest. Then is doomsday near! But your news is not true. Let me question more in particular. What have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of Fortune that she sends you to prison hither?

Prison, my lord? Denmark's a prison. Then is the world one. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons, Denmark being one o' th' worst. We think not so, my lord. Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so. To me it is a prison. Why, then your ambition makes it one. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.

Which dreams indeed are ambition; for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. A dream itself is but a shadow. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that it is but a shadow's shadow. Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretch'd heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we to th' court? No such matter! I will not sort you with the rest of my servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended.

But in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore? To visit you, my lord; no other occasion. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you; and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, deal justly with me. Come, come! Nay, speak. What should we say, my lord? Why, anything- but to th' purpose.

You were sent for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks, which your modesties have not craft enough to colour. I know the good King and Queen have sent for you. To what end, my lord? That you must teach me. But let me conjure you by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for or no.

My lord, we were sent for. I will tell you why. So shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the King and Queen moult no feather. I have of late- but wherefore I know not- lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire- why, it appeareth no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.

What a piece of work is a man! And yet to me what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me- no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so. My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.

Why did you laugh then, when I said 'Man delights not me'? 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.

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 humorous man shall end his part in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickle o' th' sere; and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt for't. What players are they? Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the tragedians of the city. How chances it they travel?

Their residence, both in reputation and profit, was better both ways. I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? Are they so follow'd? No indeed are they not.

How comes it? Do they grow rusty? Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace; but there is, sir, an eyrie of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top of question and are most tyrannically clapp'd for't. These are now the fashion, and so berattle the common stages so they call them that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goosequills and dare scarce come thither. What, are they children?

Who maintains 'em? How are they escoted? 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. 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.

Is't possible? O, there has been much throwing about of brains. Do the boys carry it away? Ay, that they do, my lord- Hercules and his load too. It is not very strange; for my uncle is King of Denmark, and those that would make mows at him while my father lived give twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred ducats apiece for his picture in little. There are the players. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, come! Th' appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony.

Let me comply with you in this garb, lest my extent to the players which I tell you must show fairly outwards should more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome. But my uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceiv'd.

In what, my dear lord? I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw. Well be with you, gentlemen! Hark you, Guildenstern- and you too- at each ear a hearer! That great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling clouts. Happily he's the second time come to them; for they say an old man is twice a child. I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players.

Mark it. My lord, I have news to tell you. When Roscius was an actor in Rome- Polonius. The actors are come hither, my lord. Buzz, buzz! Upon my honour- Hamlet. Then came each actor on his ass- Polonius. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral; scene individable, or poem unlimited.

Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men. O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou! What treasure had he, my lord? Why, 'One fair daughter, and no more, The which he loved passing well. Am I not i' th' right, old Jephthah?

If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I love passing well. Nay, that follows not. What follows then, my lord? Why, 'As by lot, God wot,' and then, you know, 'It came to pass, as most like it was. Why, thy face is valanc'd since I saw thee last. Com'st' thou to' beard me in Denmark? By'r Lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last by the altitude of a chopine. Pray God your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be not crack'd within the ring.

We'll e'en to't like French falconers, fly at anything we see. We'll have a speech straight.