The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

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?

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 sou! Grows wide withal. Perhaps, he loves you

now;

And now no soil, nor cautel, doth besmirchy
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,

[ther,

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 fur-
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
Then weigh what loss your honour may sus-

tain,

If with too credent|| ear you list¶ his songs;
Or lose your heart; or your chaste treasure
To his unmaster'd** importunity. [open
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister;
And keep you in the rear of your affection,

Hor. While one with moderate haste might Out of the shot and danger of desire.

tell a hundred.

Mar. Ber. Longer, longer.

Hor. Not when I saw it.

Ham. His beard was grizzl'd? no?

Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, A sable silver'd.

Ham. I will watch to-night; Perchance, 'twill walk again.

Hor. I warrant, it will."

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

NARDO.

Till then sit still, my soul: Foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. [Exit.

SCENE III-A Room in POLONIUS' House.

Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA.

Laer. My necessaries are embark'd; fareAnd, sister, as the winds give benefit, [well: And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, But let me hear from you.

Oph. Do you doubt that?

Luer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his faHold it a fashion, and a toy in blood; [vour, A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more.

Oph. No more but so?

That part of the helmet which may be lifted up.

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;
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
Oph. I shall the effect of this good lesson

keep,

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,

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 entertain-
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade.
[Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel: but, being in,

ment

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
judgement.

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy:
For the apparel oft proclaims the man;

And they in France, of the best rank and station,

Are most select and generous, chieft in that.
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be:
For loan oft loses both itself and friend;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all,-To thine ownself be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell; my blessing season this in thee!
Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my
lord.

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

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

Oph. 'Tis in my 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
[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

Of his affection to me.

think.

Pol. Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself 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'll tender me a fool. Oph. My lord he hath impórtun'd me with [love, Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go

In honourable fashion.tt

to.

Oph. And han 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;

→ Opinion.
+ Noble.
Economy.
|| Infix.
Untempted. tt Manner.

+ Chiefly. Wait. ‡‡ Company.

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,t
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.

Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS.
Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.
Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air.
Ham. What hour now?

Hor. I think, it lacks of twelve.
Mar. No, it is struck.

Hor. Indeed? I heard it not; it then draws near the season,

Wherein the spirit held is wont to walk.

[A Flourish of Trumpets, and Ordnance What does this mean, my lord? shot off, within.

Ham. The king doth wake to-night, and takes his rouse,

Keeps wassel, and the swaggering up[down,

spring reels;**

And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge.

Hor. Is it a custom? Ham. Ay, marry, is't:

But to my mind, though I am native here, More honour'd in the breach, than the obserAnd to the manner born,-it is a custom

Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts

from hell,

Ghost. Mark me.

Ham. I will.

Ghost. My hour is almost come,

When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames

Ham. Alas, poor ghost!

Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious
To what I shall unfold.
[hearing

Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear.
Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou
shalt hear.
Ham. What?

Be thy intents wicked, or charitable,
Thou com'st in such a questionable shape,
That I will speak to thee; I'll call thee, Ham-Must render up myself.
King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me: [let,
Let me not burst in ignorance! but tell,
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,
Have burst their cerements! why the sepul-
Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd, [chre,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble 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,t
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.

Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night;
Ghost. I am thy father's spirit;
And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires,
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* must not be

To ears of flesh and blood:-List, list, O list!

Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it. If thou didst ever thy dear father love,

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 flood,
my lord,

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

reason,

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 follow thee. [me:[Exeur GHOST and HAMLET. Hor. He waxes desp rate with imagination. Mar. Let's follow; is not fit thus to obey

him.

Hor. Have after:- fo what issue will this

come?

Mar. Something is rotten in the state of
Denmark.

Hor. Heaven will direct it.
Mar. Nay, let's follow him.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-A more remote part of the Platform.

Re-enter GHOST and HAMLET.

Ham. O heaven!

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

As meditation, or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.

Ghost. I find thee apt;

And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, [hear:
Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet,
"Tis given out, that sleeping in mine orchard,f
A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Den-
Is by a forged process of my death [mark
Rankly abus'd: but know, thou noble youth,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life,
Now wears his crown.

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 hebenons in a vial,
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
The leperous distilment: whose effect
Holds such an enmity with blood of mar.

am. Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak; That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through I'll go no further.

# Conversable. + Frame. li Hangs.

Whims.

** Hinders.

And, with a sudden vigour, it doth posset
And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
The thin and wholesome blood: so did it But he's an arrant knave.

Ham. There's ne'er a villain, dwelling in
all Denmark,

mine;

And a most instant tetter* bark'd about,
Most lazart-like, with vide 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:+

Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd ;¶
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head:
O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
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 heaven,
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. [Exit.
Ham. O all you host of heaven! O earth!
What else?

And shall I couple hell?-O fie !-Hold, hold,

my heart;

And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me suffly up!-Remember thee?
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a

seat

In this distracted globe.** Remember thee?
Yea, from the table of my memory

I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, [past,
All sawstt of books, all forms, all pressures
That youth and observation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven.
O most pernicious woman!

O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
My tables,-meet it is, I set it down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least, I am sure, it may be so in Denmark:
[Writing.

So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word;
It is, Adien, adieu! remember me.
I have sworn't.

Hor. [Within.] My lord, my lord,-
Mar. [Within.] Lord Hamlet,-

Hor. Within. Heaven secure him!
Ham. So be it!

Mar. [Within.] Illo, ho, ho, my lord!
Hum. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come.

Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.

Mar. How is't, my noble lord?

Hor. What news, my lord?

Ham. O wonderful!

Mar. Nor I, my lord.

Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave,

To tell us this.

But come;

Ham. How say you then; would heart of Here, as before, never, so help you mercy!

man once think it ?

But you'll be secret,

Hor. Mar. Ay, by heaven, my lord.

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 encumber'd thus, or this bead shake,

Here and every whers.

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 do you
[you!
So grace and mercy at your most need help
Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear.

swear,

Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So, gen-
tlemen,

With all my love I do commend me to you:
And what so poor a man as Hamlet is
May do, to express his love and friending to
you,
[ther;
God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in toge-
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.

ACT II.

[Exeunt.

SCENE 1.-A Room in POLONIUS' House.

Enter POLONIUS and REYNALDO.

Rey. But, my good lord,

Pol. Wherefore should you do this?
Rey. Ay, my lord,

I would know that.

Pol. Marry, Sir, here's my drift;
And, I believe, it is a fetch of warrant :
You laying these slight sullies on my son,
As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i'the working,
Mark you,

Your party in converse, him you would sound
Having ever seen in the prenominate* crimes.
The youth you breathe of, guilty. be assur'd,
He closes with you in this consequence;
Good Sir, or so; or friend, or gentleman,-
According to the phrase, or the addition,
Of man, and country.

Rey. Very good, my lord.

Pol. And then, Sir, does he this,-He doesWhat was I about to say?-By the mass, I was about to say something:-Where did I leave?

Rey. At, closes in the consequence.

Pol. At, closes in the consequence,-4y,

murry;

He closes with you thus:-I know the gentleI saw him yesterday, or t'other day, [man; Pol. Give him this money, and these notes, Or then, or then; with such, or such; and, as Reynaldo.

Rey. I will, my lord.

you say,

There was he gaming; there o'ertook in his rouse;

Pol. You shall do marvellous wisely, good There falling out at tennis: or, perchance,

Reynaldo,

Before you visit him, to make inquiry

Of his behaviour.

Rey. My lord, I did intend it.

Pol. Marry, well said: very well said. Look you, Sir,

Inquire 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

But, if't be he I mean, he's very wild;
Addicted so and so ;-and there put on him
What forgeries you please; marry, none so
rank

As may dishonour him; take heed of that;
But, Sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips,
As are companions noted and most known
To youth and liberty.

Rey. As gaming, my lord.

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 windlaces, and with assays of bias,
By indirections find directions out;
So, by former lecture and advice,
Shall you my son: You have me, have you not?
Rey. My lord, I have.

Pol. God be wi' you; fare you well.
key. Good my lord,-

Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself.
Rey. I shall, my lord.

Pol. And let him play his music.
Rey. Well, my lord.

Enter OPHELIA.

[Exit.

Lord Hamlet,—with his doublet all unbrac'd;
Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ankle;
No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd,
Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each
And with a look so piteous in purport, [other;

Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, As if he had been loosed out of hell,

quarrelling,

To speak of horrors, he comes before me.
Pol. Mad for thy love?

Oph. My lord, I do not know;

But, truly, I do fear it.

Pol. What said he?

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: From the Text of ..., Volume 2