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Hor. I'm forry they offend you, heartily; Yes, heartily.

Hor. There's no offence, my lord.

Ham. Yes, by St. Patrick, but there is, my lord, And much offence too. Touching this Vision hereIt is an honeft Ghoft, that let me tell you :

For your defire to know what is between us,
O'er-mafter it as you may. And now, good friends,
As you are friends, fcholars, and foldiers,

Give me one poor request.

Hor. What is't, my lord?

[to-night.

Ham. Never make known what you have feen

Both. My lord, we will not.

Ham. Nay, but swear't.

Hor. In faith, my lord, not I.

Mar. Nor I, my lord, in faith.

Ham. Upon my fword.

Mar. We have fworn, my lord, already.
Ham. Indeed, upon my fword, indeed.

Ghost. Swear.

[Ghoft cries under the stage.

Ham. Ah ha, boy, fay't thou fo? art thou there,

true-penny?

Come on, you hear this fellow in the cellaridge.
Confent to fwear.

Hor. Propofe the oath, my lord.

Ham. Never to fpeak of this that you have feen, Swear by my fword.

Ghost. Swear.

Ham. Hic & ubique? then we'll fhift our ground. Come hither, gentlemen,

And lay your hands again upon my fword.
Never to fpeak of this which you have heard.
Swear by my fword.

Ghost. Swear by his fword.

Ham. Well faid, old mole, can't work i' th' ground fo faft?

A worthy pioneer! Once more remove, good friends. Hor. Oh day and night, but this is wondrous frange.

Ham.

Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome,
There are more things in heav'n and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philofophy. But come,
Here, as before, never (fo help you mercy!)
How ftrange or odd foe'er I bear myfelf
(As I, perchance, hereafter shall think meet
To put an antic disposition on)

That you, at fuch time seeing me. never shall,
With arms encumber'd thus, or this head-fhake,
Or by pronouncing of fome doubtful phrase,
As, well we know— or, we could, and if we
would-

Or, if we lift to speak- -or, there be, and if there might

(Or fuch ambiguous givings out) denote

That you know aught of me; This do ye fwear,
So grace and mercy at your moft need help you!
Swear.

Ghost. Swear.

Ham. Reft, reft, perturbed Spirit. So, Gentlemen, With all my love do I commend me to you; And what fo poor a man as Hamlet is

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May do t' exprefs his love and friending to you,
God willing, fhall not lack; let us go in together,
And ftill your fingers on your lips, I pray :
The Time is out of joint; oh curfed fpight!
That ever I was born to fet it right.

Nay, come, let's go together.

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[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

An Apartment in Polonius's Houfe.

Enter Polonius and Reynoldo.

POLONIU S.

IVE him this money, and thefe notes, Reynoldo.

G Rey. I will, my lord.

Pol.

Pol. You fhall do marvellous wifely, good Rey

noldo,

Before you vifit him, to make enquiry

Of his behaviour,

Rey. My lord, I did intend it.

Pol. Marry, well faid; very well faid. Look you,
Sir,

Enquire me firft what Danskers are in Paris;

And how, and who, what means, and where they keep,

What company, at what expence; and finding,
By this encompassment and drift of question,
That they do know my son, come you more near;
Then your particular demands will touch it;
Take you, as 'twere fome diftant knowledge of him,
As thus- -I know his father and his friends,
And, in part, him-Do you mark this, Reynoldo?
Rey. Ay, very well, my lord.

Pol. And, in part, him-but you may fay-not well;

But if't be he. I

mean, he's very wild ; Addicted fo and fo- -and there put on him What forgeries you pleafe; marry, none fo rank, As may dishonour him; take heed of that ; But Sir, fuch wanton, wild, and usual flips, As are companions noted and moft known To youth and liberty.

Rey. As gaming, my lord

Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing, fwearing, Quarrelling, drabbing

You may go fo far.

Rey. My lord, that would difhonour him.

Pol. Faith, no, as you may feafon it in the Charge?

You must not put an utter fcandal on him,

That he is open to incontinency,

That's not my meaning; but breathe his faults fo quaintly,

That they may feem the taints of liberty;
The flash and out-break of a fiery mind,

A

A favageness in unreclaimed blood
Of general affault.

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 wit.

You, laying these flight fullies on my son,
As 'twere a thing a little foil'd i' th' working,
Mark you, your party in converfe, he you would
found,

Having ever seen, in the prenominate crimes,
The youth, you breathe of, guilty, be affur'd,
He clofes with you in this confequence;
Good fir, or fire, 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 does-what was I about to say?

I was about to fay fomething-where did I leave?Rey. At, clofes in the confequence.

Pol. At, clofes in the confequence-Ay marry. He clofes thus ;-I know the gentleman.

I saw him yesterday, or t' other day,

Or then, with fuch and fuch; and, as you say,
There was he gaming, there o'ertook in's roufe,
There falling out at tennis; or, perchance,
I faw him enter fuch a house of sale,

Videlicet, a Brothel, or fo forfooth.-See you now;
Your bait of Falfhood takes this carp of Truth;
And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,
With windlaces, and with affays of Bias,

By indirections find directions out;

So by my former lecture and advice

fon; you

Shall you my
Rey. My lord, I have.

have me, have you not?

Pol. God b' w' you; fare you well.

Rey.

Pol.

Rey. Good my

lord

Pol. Obferve his inclination e'en yourself.
Rey. I fhall, my lord.

Pol. And let him ply his mufic.
Rey. Well, my lord.

SCENE II.

Enter Ophelia.

[Exit.

AREWEL. How now, Ophelia, what's the

FAREWE
FAR matter.

Oph. Alas, my lord, I have been so affrighted! Pol. With what, in the name of heav'n? Oph. My lord, as I was fewing in my closet, Lord Hamlet, with his Doublet all unbrac'd, No hat upon his head, his stockings loose, Ungarter'd, and down-gyred to his ancle; Pale as his fhirt, his knees knocking each other, And with a look fo piteous in purport,

As if he had been loofed out of hell,

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

Oph. My lord, I do not know:

But, truly, I do fear it.

Pol. What faid he?

Oph. He took me by the wrift, and held me hard;
Then goes he to the length of all his arm;
And with his other hand, thus o'er his brow,
He falls to fuch perufal of my face,

As he would draw it. Long time ftaid he fo;
At laft, a little fhaking of mine arm,

And thrice his head thus waving up and down
He rais'd a figh, fo piteous and profound,
That it did feem to shatter all his bulk,
And end his Being. Then he lets me go,
And, with his head over his fhoulder turn'd
He feem'd to find his way without his eyes;

For

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