More honour'd in the breach, than the observance. [This heavy-headed revel, east and west Makes us traduc'd 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 perform'd 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, By their o'ergrowth of some complexion, Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason; | Being nature's livery, or fortune's star, Shall in the general censure take corruption Hor. Enter Ghost. 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, 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, Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws, To cast thee up again? What may this mean, With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? 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. Ham. It will not speak; then will I follow it. 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 of reason, That looks so many fadoms to the sea, And makes each petty artery in this body As hardy as th' Nemean 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 me: I 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 Den Enter Ghost and HAMLET. Ham. Where wilt thou lead me? speak, I'll go no When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames Must render up myself. Ham. Ghost. Pity me not; To what I shall unfold. Ham. Alas, poor ghost! but lend thy serious hearing Speak, I am bound to hear. Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear. Ham. What? 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 purg'd 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, To ears of flesh and blood. List, Hamlet, list! Ham. O God! Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural mur Ham. ther. Murther? Ghost. Murther most foul, as in the best it is; But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. Ham. Haste me to know 't, that I, with wings Ghost. I find thee apt; And duller should'st thou be than the fat weed Would'st 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, Ham. Mine uncle ! O, my prophetic soul! 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, Will sate itself in a celestial bed, And prey on garbage. But, soft! methinks, I scent the morning air: My custom always in the afternoon, Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, With juice of cursed hebenon in a phial, |