King.
Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death
The memory be green, and that it fitted
To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole Kingdom
To be contracted in one brow of woe;
Yet so far hath Discretion fought with Nature,
That we with wisest sorrow think on him,
Together with remembrance of our selves.
Therefore our sometime sister, now our Queen,
Th' imperial Jointress of this warlike State,
Have we, as 'twere, with a defeated joy,
With one auspicious, and one dropping eye,
With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage,
In equal scale weighing delight and dole,
Taken to wife.—Nor have we herein barr'd
Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
With this affair along: (for all, our thanks.)
Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras,
Holding a weak supposal of our worth;
Or thinking by our late dear brother's death
Our State to be disjoint and out of frame;
^{9 note}Colleagued with this dream of his advantage,
He hath not fail'd to pester us with message,
Importing the surrender of those Lands

Lost by his father, by all bands of law,
To our most valiant brother.—So much for him.—
Now for our self, and for this time of meeting:
Thus much the business is. We have here writ
To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,
(Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears
Of this his nephew's purpose,) to suppress
His further gate herein; in that the Levies,
The Lists, and full Proportions are all made
Out of his Subjects: and we here dispatch
You, good Cornelius, and you Voltimand,
For bearers of this Greeting to old Norway;
Giving to you no further personal power
To business with the King, more than the scope
Which these dilated articles allow.
Farewel, and let your haste commend your duty.

Vol.
In that, and all things, will we shew our duty.

King.
We doubt it nothing; heartily farewel. [Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius.
And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?
You told us of some suit. What is't, Laertes?
You cannot speak of Reason to the Dane,
And lose your voice. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes,
That shall not be my offer, not thy asking?
^{1 note}

The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than to the Throne of Denmark is thy father.
What would'st thou have, Laertes?

Laer.
My dread lord,
Your leave and favour to return to France;
From whence, though willingly I came to Denmark
To shew my duty in your Coronation;
Yet now I must confess, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend again tow'rd France:
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.

King.
Have you your father's leave? what says Polonius?

Pol.
He hath, my lord, by laboursome petition,
Wrung from me my slow leave; and, at the last,
Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent.
I do beseech you, give him leave to go.

King.
Take thy fair hour, Laertes, time be thine;
And thy best Graces spend it at thy will.
^{2 note}

Ham.
A little more than kin, and less than kind. [Aside.

King.
How is it, that the clouds still hang on you?

Ham.
Not so, my lord, I am too much i'th' Sun.

Queen.
Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off,
And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Do not, for ever, with thy veiled lids,
Seek for thy noble father in the dust;
Thou know'st, 'tis common; all that live, must die;
Passing through nature to eternity.

Ham.
Ay, Madam, it is common.

Queen.
If it be,
Why seems it so particular with thee?

Ham.
Seems, Madam? nay, it is; I know not seems:
'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor customary suits of solemn Black,
Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage,
Together with all forms, moods, shews of grief,
That can denote me truly. These indeed seem,
For they are actions that a man might play;
But I have That within, which passeth shew:
These, but the trappings, and the suits of woe.

King.
'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,
To give these mourning duties to your father:
&wlquo;But you must know, ^{3 note}

&wlquo;That father, his; and the surviver bound
&wlquo;In filial obligation, for some term,
&wlquo;To do obsequious sorrow. But to persevere
&wlquo;^{4 note}In obstinate condolement, is a course
&wlquo;Of impious stubbornness, unmanly grief.
&wlquo;It shews ^{5 note}a will most incorrect to heav'n,
&wlquo;A heart unfortify'd, a mind impatient,
&wlquo;An understanding simple, and unschool'd:
&wlquo;For, what we know must be, and is as common
&wlquo;As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
&wlquo;Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
&wlquo;Take it to heart? fie! 'tis a fault to heav'n,
&wlquo;A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
&wlquo;^{6 note}To Reason most absurd; whose common theam
&wlquo;Is death of fathers, and who still hath cry'd,
&wlquo;From the first coarse, 'till he that died to day,
&wlquo;This must be so. We pray you ^{7 note}throw to earth
^{8 note}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;
^{9 note}And with no less nobility of love,
Than that which dearest father bears his son,

^{1 note}Do I impart tow'rd you. For your intent
In going back to school to Wittenberg,
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.

Queen.
Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet:
I pr'ythee, 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 our self in Denmark. Madam, come;
This gentle and unforc'd 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 rowse the heav'n shall bruit again,
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come, away. [Exeunt.

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