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.

I

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

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 unforced 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.

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

9

Or that the Everlasting had not fixed
His canon' 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fye on't! O fye! '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 two:
So excellent a king; that was, to this,
Hyperion to a satyr: 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? 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 reason,
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 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 baked

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.
My lord?

Where,

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 attent' ear; till I may deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.

Ham.
For God's love, let me hear.
Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus 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-à-pé,

Appears before them, and, with solemn march,
Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd,
By their oppress'd and fear-surprised 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?
Mar. 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
Itself to motion, like as it would speak:
But, even then, the morning cock crew loud;
I am glad to see you well: And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
And vanish'd from our sight.

But break, my heart: for I must hold my tongue!
Enter HORATIO, BERNARDO, and MARCELLUS.
Hor. Hail to your lordship!
Ham.

Horatio, or I do forget myself.

Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant

Ham.
'Tis very strange.
Hor. As I do live, my honor'd lord, 'tis true;
And we did think it writ down in our duty,
To let you know of it.

Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.
Hold you the watch to-night?
All.
Ham. Arm'd, say you?

All.

Ham.

We do, my lord.

Arm❜d, my lord.

From top to toe?

Then saw you not

All. My lord, from head to foot.

Ham.

His face?

Ham. What, look'd he frowningly?
Hor.

In sorrow than in anger.

Ham.

Hor. Nay, very pale.
Ham.

A countenance more
Pale, or red?

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: Stay'd it long?

Very like,

Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.

Mar. Ber. Longer, longer.

Hor. Not when I saw it.
Ham.

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

Ham.

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 honor may sustain,
If with too credent' ear you list' his songs:
Or lose your heart; or your chaste treasure open
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;

His beard was grizzl'd? no? 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.

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 honor.
Ham. Your loves, as mine to you: Farewell.
[Exeunt HoR., MAR., and BER.
My father's spirit in arms! all is not well;
I doubt some foul play: 'would the night were
come!

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's House.
Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA.

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

Oph.

Do you doubt that?
Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favor,
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
The perfume and suppliance of a minute;
No more.

Oph.
Laer.

No more but so?

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;
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,

"Increasing. Sinews. Subtlety, deceit. Discolor.

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,
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. Beware
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 judg

ment.

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,* chief' 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?

CENE IV.

PRINCE OF DENMARK.

Oph. So please you, something touching the | The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out

lord Hamlet.

Pol. Marry, well bethought:

"Tis told me, he hath very oft of late
Given private time on you: and you yourself

Have of your audience been most free and boun

teous:

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 honor:
What is between you? give me up the truth.
Oph. He hath my lord, of late, made many tenders
Of his affection to me.

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'll tender me a fool.
Oph. My lord, he hath impórtun'd me with love,
In honorable 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,
Than 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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-The Platform.
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.

Mar. No, it is struck.

I think, it lacks of twelve.

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

the season,

Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.

The triumph of his pledge.

Hor.

Ham. Ay, marry, is't:

Is it a custom ?

But to my mind, though I am native here,
And to the manner born,-it is a custom
More honor'd in the breach, than the observance.
This heavy-headed revel, east and west,
Makes us traduced 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 performed at height,
The pith and marrow of our attribute.
So oft it chances in particular men,
That for some vicious mole 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 reason;
Or by some habit, that too much o'er-leavens
The form of plausive manners;-that these men,—
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect;
Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,-
Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace,
As infinite as man may undergo)
Shall in the general censure take corruption
From that particular fault: The dram of base
Doth all the noble substance often dout,"
To his own scandal.

Enter Ghost.

Hor.
Look, my lord, it comes!
Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us!-
Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd,
Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from
hell,

4

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 marble jaws,
To cast thee up again! What may this mean,
That thou, dead corse, again, in cómplete 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

[A Flourish of Trumpets, and Ordnance shot 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,

• Sharp.
A dance.

Do out. • Hangs.

Which might deprive your sovereignty of 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.

Go on, I'll follow thee.

It waves me still:

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

me:

say, away :-Go on, I'll follow thee.

[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 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.

And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,
Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:
"Tis given out, that, sleeping in mine orchard,
A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process of my death

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 orchard,
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
My custom always of the afternoon,
With juice of cursed hebenon' in a vial,

Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak, I'll And in the porches of mine ears did pour

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,
Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature,
Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood;
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their
spheres ;

Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:
But this eternal blazonR must not be
To ears of flesh and blood:-List, list, O list!-
If thou didst ever thy dear father love,-
Ham. O heaven!

Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural

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 vigor, 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 despatch'd:'
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
Unhousel'd, disappointed,' unane led;"
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 pursuest 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.

[Eri

Ham. O all you host of heaven! O earth! What

PRINCE OF DENMARK.

Hor.
We will.

Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself,

Ham. Why, right; you are in the right;
And so, without more circumstance at all,
I hold it fit, that we shake hands, and part:
You, as your business, and desire, shall point you;-
For every man hath business, and desire,
Such as it is;-and, for my own poor part,
Look I will go pray.

Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.

Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily; yes, Faith, heartily.

There's no offence, my lord.
Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio,
And much offence too. Touching this vision here,
It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you;
For your desire to know what is between us,
O'er-master it as you may. And now, good friends,
As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,
Give me one poor request.