The very place puts toys of defperation,
Without more motive, into ev'ry brain,
That looks fo many fathoms to the fea;
And hears it roar beneath.

Ham. It waves me ftill: go on, I'll follow thee—
Mar. You fhall not go, my lord.

Ham. Hold off your hands.

you

Mar. Be rul'd, fhall not go.
Ham. My fate cries out,

And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve:

Still am I call'd: unhand me, gentlemen

[Breaking from them. By heaven, I'll make a Ghoft of him that lets me1 fay, awaygo on I'll follow thee

[Exeunt Ghoft and Hamlet. Hor. He waxes defp'rate with imagination. Mar. Let's follow! 'tis not fit thus to obey him Hor. Have after.-To what iffue will this come? Mar. Something is rotten in the State of Denmark. Hor. Heav'n will direct it.

Mar. Nay, let's follow him.

SCENE

[Exeunt.

VIII.

Changes to a more remote Part of the Platform.

Re-enter Ghost and Hamlet.

Ham. WHERE wilt thou lead me? fpeak; I'll

go no further.

Ghoft. Mark me.

Ham. I will.

Ghost. My hour is almoft come,

When I to fulphurous and tormenting flames

Muft render up myself.

Ham. Alas, poor Ghoft!

Ghoft. Pity me not, but lend thy ferious hearing

To what I fhall unfold.

Ham.

Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear.

Ghoft. So art thou to revenge, when thou fhalt

hear.

Ham. What?

Ghoft. I am thy father's Spirit:

Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,
And, for the day, confin'd too fast in fires ;
'Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature,
Are burnt and purg'd away.

But that I am forbid

To tell the fecrets of my prifon-house,

I could a tale unfold, whofe lightest word

Would harrow up thy foul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes, like ftars, ftart from their fpheres,
Thy knotty and combined locks to part.
And each particular hair to ftand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:
But this eternal blazon must not be

To ears of flesh and blood; lift, lift, oh lift!
If thou didst ever thy dear father love-

Ham. O heav'n!

Ghoft. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

Ham. Murder?

Ghoft. Murder moft foul, as in the beft it is; But this moft foul, frange, and unnatural.

Ham. Hafte me to know it, that I, with wings as

fwift

As meditation or the thoughts of love,

May fweep to my revenge.

Ghost I find thee apt;

And duller fhouldst thou be, than the fat weed

That roots itself in ease on Lethe's wharf,

Wouldst thou not ftir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:

'Tis given out, that, fleeping in my orchard,

A ferpent ftung me. So, the whole ear of Denmark,
Is by a forged procefs of my death

Rankly abus'd: but know, thou noble Youth,
The ferpent, that didft fting thy father's life,

Now

Now wears his crown..

Ham. Oh, my prophetic foul! my uncle?

Ghoft. Ay, that inceftuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wit, with trait'rous gifts, (O wicked wit, and gifts, that have the power So to feduce!) won to his fhameful luft The will of my moft feeming-virtuous Queen. Oh Hamlet, what a falling off was there! From me, whofe love was of that dignity, That it went hand in hand ev'n with the vow I made to her in marriage; and to decline Upon a wretch, whofe natural gifts were poor To thofe of mine!.

But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,

Though lewdnefs court it in a fhape of heav'n;
So luft, though to a radiant angel link'd,
Will fate itself in a celeftial bed,

And prey on garbage―

But, foft! methinks, I fcent the morning air-
Brief let me be; Sleeping within mine orchard,
My cuftom always of the afternoon,
Upon my fecure hour thy uncle ftole
With juice of curfed hebenon in a phial,
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
The leperous diftilment; whofe effect
Holds fuch an enmity with blood of man,
That fwift as quick-filver it courfes through
The natral gates and allies of the body;
And, with a fudden vigour, it doth poffet
And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
The thin and whofefome blood: fo did it mine,
And a most inftant tetter bark'd about,

Moft lazar-like, with vile and loathfome cruft
All my fmooth body.-

Thus was I fleeping, by a brother's hand,

Of life, of Crown, of Queen, at once difpatcht; Cut off even in the bloffoms of my sin,

*

at once difpatcht ;] Dispatch, for bereft.

Unhoufel'd,

+ Unhoufel'd, unanointed, || unanel'd:
No reck'ning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head.
Oh, horrible! oh, horrible! moft horrible!
If thou haft nature in thee, bear it not;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damned inceft.
But howfoever thou purfu'ft this act,

Taint not thy mind, nor let thy foul contrive
Against thy mother aught; leave her to heav'n,
And to thofe thorns that in her bofom lodge,
To prick and fting her. Fare thee well at once!
The glow-worm fhews the Matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his § uneffectual fire.

Adieu, adieú, adieu; remember me.

[Exit.

Ham. Oh, all you hoft of heav'n! oh earth! what elfe?

And fhall I couple hell? oh fie! hold my heart!
And you, my finews, grow not instant old;
But bear me ftifly up. Remember thee !
Ay, thou poor Ghoft, while memory holds a feat
In this distracted globe? remember thee!
Yea, from the table of my memory

I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
All faws of books, all forms, all preffures past,
That youth and obfervation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone fhall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with bafer matter. Yes, by heav'n:
Oh moft pernicious woman!

Oh villain, villain, fmiling damned villain!
My tables, meet it is, I fet it down,

That one may smile, and fmile, and be a villain;
At least, I'm fure, it may be fo in Denmark.

Unhoufel'd.] Without the Sacrament being taken.
Unanointed,] Without extreme Un&ion.
Unanel'd: No Knell rung.

-uneffectual fire.] i. e. fhining without Heat.

[Writing.

Mr. Pope.

Mr. Pope.

Mr. Pope.

Warb.

So,

So, uncle, there you are; now to my word;
It is; Adieu, adieu, remember me:

I've fworn it.

SCENE IX.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Hor. M Mar. Lord Hamlet,
Y Lord, my lord,

Hor. Heav'n fecure him!

Mar. So be it.

Hor. Illo, ho, ho, my lord!

Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy; come, bird, come.

Mar. How is't, my noble lord?

Hor. What news, my lord?

Ham. Oh, wonderful!

Hor. Good my lord, tell it.

Ham. No, you'll reveal it.

Hor. Not 1, my lord, by heav'n.

Mar. Nor I, my lord.

Ham. How fay you then, would heart of man once think it ?

But you'll be fecret

Both. Ay, by heav'n, my lord.

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

But he's an arrant knave.

Hor. There needs no Ghoft, my lord, come from the Grave

To tell us this.

Ham. Why, right, you are i' th' right;
And fo without more circumftance at all,
I hold it fit that we shake hands, and part;

You, as your business and defires fhall point you; (For every man has bufinefs and defire,

Such as it is) and, for my own poor part,

I will go pray.

Hor. Thefe are but wild and whirling words, my

lord.

Hor.