But, you must know, your father lost a father;
That father lost his; and the survivor bound
In filial obligation, for some termi

To do obsequious sorrow: But to persever
In obstinate condolement, is a course

Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief:
It shows a will 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 com-

mon

As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
Take it to heart? Fie! 'Tis a fault to heaven.
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason most absurd; whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first corse, till he that died to-day,
This must be so. We pray you, throw to earth
This unprevailing woe; and think of us
As of a father for let the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our throne;
And, with no less nobility of love,

Than that which dearest father bears his son,
Do I impart toward you. For your intent
In going back to school in Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our desire;
And, we beseech you, bend you to remain
Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.

Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers,
Hamlet;

I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg. Ham. I 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 smiling to my heart: in grace whereof, No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day, But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell, And the king's rouse the heaven shall bruit again,

Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.

[Exeunt KING, QUEEN, Lords, &c. POLONIUS, and LAERTES.

[God!

Ham. Oh! that this too too solid flesh would Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! [melt, Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter!-O God! O How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded 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 So excellent a king; that was, to this, [two: Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother, That he might not beteem ++ the winds of hea

ven

Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown

By what it fed on: And yet, within a month,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 rea-
son,

Would have mourn'd longer,--married with my uncle,

My father's brother; but no more like my father,

Than I to Hercules: Within a month,
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married:-O most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!

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 name with you. [tio ?And what make you from Wittenberg, HoraMarcellus ?

But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg ?
Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.
Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so:
Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself: I know you are no truant.
But what is your affair in Elsinore ?
We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart
Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's
funeral.

Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow student;

I think, it was to see my mother's wedding.
Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.
Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd

meats

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
'Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!—
My father, Methinks, I see my father.
Hor. Where,

My lord?

Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Hor. I saw him once, he was a goodly king. Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.

Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
Ham. Saw! who?

Hor. My lord, the king your father.
Ham. The king my father?

Hor. Season your admiration for a while
With an attentear; till I may deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.

men,

Ham. For God's love, let me hear. Hor. Two nights together had these gentleMarcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, In the dead waist and middle of the night, Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father, Armed at point, exactly, cap-a-pé, Appears before them, and, with solemn march, Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd

By their oppress'd and fear-surprized eyes, Within his truncheon's length; whilst they,

distill'd

Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did;
And I with them, the third night, kept the
watch;

Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time, Form of the thing, each word made true and good,

The apparition comes: I knew your father;
These hands are not more like.

Ham. But where was this?

Hor. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.

Ham. Did you not speak to it?

Hor. My lord, I did;

But answer made it none: yet once, methought, It lifted up its head, and did address

It was anciently the custom to give a co d entertai ment at a funeral.

And now no soil, nor cautel, doth besmirch +
The virtue of his will: but, you must fear,
His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;
For he himself is subject to his birth:
He may not, as unvalued persons do,
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
The safety and the health of the whole state;
And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd
Unto the voice and yielding of that body,
Whereof he is the head: Then if he says he
loves you,

It fits your wisdom so far to believe it,
As he in his particular act and place

May give his saying deed; which is no further,
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
Then weigh what loss your honour may sus-
tain,

If with too credent tear you list his songs;

up.

Ham. What, look'd he frowningly ?

Hor. A countenance more

In sorrow than in anger.

Ham. Pale, or red?
Hor. Nay, very pale.

Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you?
Hor. Most constantly.

Ham. I would I had been there.

Hor. It would have much amaz'd you. Ham. Very like,

Very like Stay'd it long?

To his unmaster'd importunity.

Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister;
And keep you in the rear of your affection,
Out of the shot and danger of desire.
The chariest ¶ maid is prodigal enough,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon:
Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes :
The canker galls the infants of the spring,
Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd;
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Be wary then: best safety lies in fear;

Ham. If it assume my noble father's person, I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape, And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, Let it be tenable in your silence still; And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, Give it an understanding, but no tongue : I will requite your loves: So, fare you well: Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve, I'll visit you.

All. Our duty to your honour.

Ham. Your loves, as mine to you: Farewell. [Exeunt HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BER

Oph. Do you doubt that?

his fa

[vour,

Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
The pérfume and suppliance of a minute;
No more.

Oph. No more but so?

Laer. Think it no more:

For nature, crescent, † does not grow alone
In thews, and bulk; but, as this temple waxes,
The inward service of the mind and soul
Grows wide withal. Perhaps, he loves you now:

That cart of the helmet which may be lifted up. ncreasing. * Sinews.

Laer. O fear me not.

I stay too long ;-But here my father comes.
Enter POLONIUS.

A double blessing is a double grace;
Occasion smiles upon a second leave.

Pol. Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame ;

The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, And you are staid for: (») There,-my blessing with you;

[Laying his Hand on LAERTES' Head. And these few precepts in thy memory Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,

Be

Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade.
Of entrance to a quarrel: but, being in,
Bear it that the opposer may beware of thee,
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy

ware

judgment.

Pol. The time invites you; go, your servants tend. +

Laer. Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well What I have said to you.

Oph. 'Tis in memory lock'd,

And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
Laer. Farewell.

[Exit LAERTES. Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you? Oph. So please you, something touching the lord Hamlet.

Pol. Marry, well bethought:

'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late Given private time to you; and you yourself Have of your audience been most free and bounteous,

If it be so, (as so 'tis put on me,

And that in way of caution,) I must tell you,
You do not understand yourself so clearly,
As it behoves my daughter and your honour:
What is between you? give me up the truth.
Oph. He hath, my lord, of late, made many
of his affection to me.
[tenders
Pol. Affection? puh! you speak like a green
girl,

Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.
Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?
Oph. I do not know, my lord, what I should
think.

Pol. Marry, I'll teach you think yourself a baby;

That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay, Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly;

Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,
Wronging it thus,) you'il tender me a fool.
Oph. My lord he hath impórtun'd me with love,
In honourable fashion. §

Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go

to.

Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,

With almost all the holy vows of heaven.

Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know,

When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter,
Giving more light than heat,--extinct in both,
Even in their promise, as it is a making,-
You must not take for fire. From this time,
Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence;
Set your entreatments || at a higher rate,
Than a command to parley. For lord Hamlet,
Believe so much in him, That he is young;
And with a larger tether ¶ may he walk,
Then may be given you: In few, Ophelia,
Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers, **
Not of that die which their investments show,
But mere implorators ++ of unholy suits,
Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds,
The better to beguile. This is for all,-

I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,

Have you so slander any moment's leisure,
As to give words or talk with the lord Hamlet.
Look to't, I charge you; come your ways.
Oph. I shall obey, my lord.

SCENE IV.-The Platform.

[Exeunt.

This heavy-headed revel, east and west,
Makes us traduc'd, and tax'd of other nations :
They clepe us, drunkards, and with swinish
phrase

Soil our addition; and, indeed it takes
From our achievements, though perform'd at
height,

The pith and marrow of our attribute.
So, oft it chances in particular men,
That, for some vicious mode of nature in them,
As, in their birth, (wherein they are not guilty,
Since nature cannot choose his origin,)
By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, ||
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of rea

Be thy intents wicked, or charitable,
Thou com'st in such a questionable ** shape,
That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee, Hamlet,
King, father, royal Dane: O answer me :
Let me not burst in ignorance! but tell,
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,
Have burst their cerements! why the sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marbie jaws,
To cast thee up again! What may this mean,
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel,
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous; and we fools of nature
So horridly to shake our disposition,
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we
do?

Hor. It beckons you to go away with it,
As if it some impartment did desire
To you alone.

Mar. Look, with what courteous action
It waves you to a more removed ‡‡ ground:
But do not go with it.

Hor. No, by no means.

Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it. Hor. Do not, my lord.

Ham. Why, what should be the fear?

I do not set my life at a pin's fee; §§

And, for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself?

It waves me forth again ;-I'll follow it. Hor. What if it tempt you toward the my lord,

As meditation, or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.
Ghost. I find thee apt;

Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff,
That beetles o'er his base into the sea,
And there assume some other horrible form,
Which might deprive your sovereignty of rea-
son,

And draw you into madness ?-think of it;
The very place puts toys+ of desperation,
Without more motive, into every brain,
That looks so many fathoms to the sea,
And hears it roar beneath.

Ham. It waves me still :-
Go on, I'll follow thee.

Mar. You shall not go, my lord.
Ham. Hold off your hands.
Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not go.
Ham. My fate cries out,

And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Némean lion's nerve.-

[GHOST beckons. Still am I call'd;-unhand me, gentlemen ;[Breaking from them. By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets I say, away:-Go on, I'll follow thee. [me :[Exeunt GHOST and HAMLET. Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination. Mar. Let's follow: 'tis not fit thus to obey him.

Hor. Have after :-To what issue will this

Ghost. Mark me.
Ham. I will.

Ghost. My hour is almost come,

When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames Must render up myself.

Ham. Alas, poor ghost!

Ham. O my prophetic soul! my uncle!
Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate
beast,

With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,
(O wicked wit, and gifts, that have the power
So to seduce !) won to his shameful lust
The will of my most seeming virtuous queen :
O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!
From me whose love was of that dignity,
That it went hand in hand even with the vow
I made to her in marriage; and to decline
Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor
To those of mine!

But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,
Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven;
So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,
Will sate itself in a celestial bed,
And prey on garbage.

But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air ;
Brief let me be :-Sleeping within mine or-
My custom always of the afternoon, [chard,
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
The leperous distilment; whose effect
Holds such an enmity with blood of man,
That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through
The natural gates and alleys of the body;
And, with a sudden vigour, it doth posset
And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine,
And a most instant tetter § bark'd about,
Most lazar -like, with vile and loathsome crust,
All my smooth body.

Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand,
of life, of crown, of queen, at once des.
patch'd: T

Cut off even in blossoms of my sin,
Unhousel'd, ** unanointed, unanel'd : ††

bearing

To what I shall unfold.

Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear.

shalt hear.

Ham. What?

Ghost. I am thy father's spirit; Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night; And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires, (n) Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, Are burn'd and purg'd away. But that I am To tell the secrets of my prison-house, [forbid I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood; [spheres ; Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their Thy knotted and combined locks to part, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine: But this eternal blazon ý must not be To ears of flesh and blood:-List, list, oh! If thou didst ever thy dear father love,— Ham. O heaven!

A couch for luxury and damned incest.
But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act,
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
Against thy mother aught; leave her to heav'n,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at
once !

The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire:
Adieu, adieu, adieu ! remember me.
Ham. O all you host of heaven! O earth!
What else?

[Exit.

Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

Ham. Murder?

Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is; But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. Ham. Haste me to know it; that I, with wings as swift

• Haug:.

t Whims. Display.

t Hinders.

seat

[past,

In this distracted globe. ‡i Remember thee? Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms all pressures • Garden. + Satiate. ↑ Henbane Scab, scurf. Leprous. Bereft. Without having received the sacrament. tt Without extreme unction. it lead.

him.