The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
So hallow'd and fo gracious is the time.
Hor. So have I heard, and do in part believe it.
But, look, the morn, in ruffet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill:
Break we our watch up; and, by my advice,
Let us impart what we have seen to-night
Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,
This fpirit, dumb to us, will speak to him:
Do you confent we shall acquaint him with it,
As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?
Mar. Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know
Where we shall find him moft convenient. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. A Room of State.
Enter the King, Queen, HAMLET, POLONIUS, LAERTES, VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, Lords and Attendants.
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 fo far hath difcretion fought with nature,
That we with wisest sorrow think on him,
Together with remembrance of ourselves.
Therefore our fometime fifter, now our queen,
The imperial jointress of this warlike state,
Have we, as 'twere, with a defeated joy,-
With one aufpicious, and one dropping eye;
With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage,
In equal fcale weighing delight and dole,-
Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr'd
Your better wifdoms, which have freely gone
With this affair along :-For all, our thanks.
Now follows that you know, young Fortinbras,-
Holding a weak fuppofal of our worth;
Or thinking, by our late dear brother's death,
Our state to be disjoint, and out of frame,—
Colleagued with this dream of his advantage,
He hath not fail'd to pefter us with meffage,
Importing the furrender of those lands
Loft by his father, with all bands of law,
To our most valiant brother. So much for him.
Nor for ourself, and for this time of meeting:
Thus much the bufinefs is: We have here writ
To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,-
Who, impotent and bed-rid, fcarcely hears
Of this his nephew's purpofe,-to fupprefs
His further gait herein; in that the levies,
The lifts, and full proportions, are all made
Out of his fubject:-and we here dispatch
You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand,
For bearers of this greeting to old Norway;
Giving to you no further perfonal power
To bufinefs with the king, more than the scope
Of thefe dilated articles allows.
Farewell; and let your hafte commend your duty.
Vol. In that, and all things, will we fhew our duty.
King. We doubt it nothing; heartily farewell.
[Exeunt VOLTIMAND, and CORNELIUS. And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? You told us of fome fuit; what is't Laertes ? You cannot speak of reason to the Dane,
And lose your voice: What would'st thou beg, Laertes,
That shall not be my offer, not thy aking?
The head is not more native to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father,
What would'it thou have, Laertes ?
Your leave and favour to return to France;
From whence, tho' willingly, I came to Denmark,
To fhew my duty in your coronation;
Yet now I must confefs, 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 fays Polonius?
Pol. He hath, my lord, [wrung from me my flow By labourfome petition; and, at last, Upon his will I feal'd my hard confent]: Ido befeech you give him leave to go.
King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine, And thy beft graces spend it at thy will.But now my coufin, Hamlet, and my fon,Ham. A little more than kin, and less than kind. [Afide.
King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you? Ham. Not fo, my lord, I am too much i' the fun. Queen. Good Hamlet, caft thy nighted colour 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'ft, 'tis common; all, that live, must die,
Paffing through nature to eternity.
Ham. Ay, madam, it is common.
Queen. If it be,
Why feems it fo particular with thee.
Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not
"Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor customary fuits of folemn black,
Nor windy fufpiration of forc'd breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage,
Together with all forms, modes, fhews of grief,
That can denote me truly: Thefe, indeed, feem,
For they are actions that a man might play :
But I have that within, which paffeth fhew;
Thefe, but the trappings and the suits of woe.
King. 'Tis fweet and commendable in your na
ture, Hamlet,
To give these mourning duties to your father:
But, you must know, your father loft a father;
That father loft, loft his; and the furvivor bound
In filial obligation for fome term
To do obfequious forrow: But to persevere
In obftinate condolement, is a course
Of impious stubbornnefs; 'tis unmanly grief :
It fhews a will most incorrect to heaven;
A heart unfortify'd, or mind impatient;
An understanding fimple, and unfchool'd:
For what, we know, must be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to fenfe,
Why fhould 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 reafon most abfurd, whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who ftill have cry'd,
From the first corfe, 'till he that died to-day,
This must be fo. 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 lefs nobility of love
Than that which deareft father bears his fon,
Do I impart toward you. For your intent
In going back to school in Wittenberg,
It is moft retrograde to our defire:
And, we beseech you, bend you to remain
Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefeft courtier, coufin, and our fon.
Queen. Let not thy mother lofe her prayers,
Hamlet;
pray thee, stay with us, go not to Wittenberg. Ham. I fhall 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 fmiling to my heart: in grace whereof, No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day, But the great cannon to the clouds fhall tell; And the king's rouze the heaven shall bruit again, Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come,away. [Exeunt.
Ham. O, that this too, too folid flesh would melt, Thaw and refolve itfelf into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His cannon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!
How weary, ftale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to feed; things rank,and grofs in nature. Poffefs it merely. That it fhould come to this! But two months dead!-nay, not fo much, not two: B
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