Ham.
The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold* ^note.

Hor.
It is a nipping and an eager air.

Ham.
What hour, now?

Hor.
I think it lacks of twelve.

Mar.
No, it is struck.

Hor.
I heard it not: then it draws near the season,
Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. [Trumpets a tune.
What does this mean, my Lord?

Ham.
The King doth wake, to-night, and takes his rouse,
And as he takes his draught of rhenish down,
The kettle-drum and trumpet thus proclaim
The triumph of his pledge.

Hor.
Is it a custom?

Ham.
Ay, marry is't:
But to my mind, tho' I am native here,
And to the manner born, it is a custom
More honour'd in the breach, than the observance.

Enter Ghost.

Hor.
Look, my Lord, it comes!

Ham.* ^note
Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd;
Bring with thee airs from heav'n, or blasts from hell;
Be thy intent 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: Oh! answer me,
Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell
Why thy bones, hears'd in canonized earth,
Have burst their cearments? Why the sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly interr'd,
Hath ope'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To cast thee up again? What may this mean?
That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel,
Revisitest thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous; and us fools of nature,
So horridly to shake our disposition,
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do? [Ghost beckons Ham.

Hor.
It beckons you to go away with it,
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. [Holding Hamlet.

Ham.
It will not speak; then I will follow it.

Hor.
Do not, my Lord.

Ham.
Why, what should be the fear?
I value not my life;

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 tow'rd the flood, my Lord?
Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff,
And there assume some other horrid form,
And draw you into madness?

Ham.
It waves me still:
Go on, I'll follow thee—

Mar.
You shall not go, my Lord.

Ham.
Hold off your hand.

Hor.
Be rul'd, you shall not go.

Ham.
My fate cries out,
And makes each petty art'ry 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 ghost of him that lets me—
I say, away—Go on—I'll follow thee. [Ex. Ghost and Hamlet; Hor. and Mar. retiring on the opposite side. Enter Ghost and Hamlet.

Ham.
Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak, I'll go no further.

Ghost.
Mark me.

Ham.
I will.

Ghost.
My hour is almost come,
When I to sulph'rous and tormenting flames
Must render up myself.

Ham.
Alas, poor ghost!

Ghost.
Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold.

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* ^note,

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,
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.
But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood: list, list, o list!
If thou did'st ever thy dear father love—* ^note

Ham.
O Heaven!

Ghost.
Revenge his foul and most unnat'ral murder.

Ham.
Murder!

Ghost.
Murder 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 as swift
As meditation, or the thoughts of love,
May fly to my revenge.

Ghost.
I find thee apt.—Now, Hamlet, hear:
'Tis given out, that, sleeping in my garden,
A serpent stung me: so the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process of my death,
Rankly abus'd; for know, thou noble youth,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life,
Now wears his crown.

Ham.
O my prophetic soul! my uncle?

Ghost.
Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
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 nat'ral gifts were poor,
To those of mine—

But soft, methinks I scent the morning air—
Brief let me be: Sleeping within my garden,
My custom always in the afternoon,
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of cursed hebonon in a phial,
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
The leperous distilment, whose effects
Hold such an enmity with blood of man,
That swift as quicksilver it courses thro'
The nat'ral gates and allies of the body;
So did it mine.
Thus was I sleeping, by a brother's hand,
Of life, of crown, of queen, at once bereft;
Cut off ev'n in the blossom of my sin,
Unhousel'd, unanointed, unanneal'd;
No reck'ning made, but sent to my account,
With all my imperfections on my head.

* ^noteHam.
O horrible! horrible! most horrible!

Ghost.
If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury, and damned incest.
But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act,
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul design
Against thy mother aught; leave her to heav'n,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To goad and sting her. Fare thee well, at once!
The glow-worm shews the morning to be near,
And 'gins to pale his ineffectual fire† ^note.
Farewel; remember me. [Exit.

Ham.
O hold, my heart—
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old:
But bear me strongly up. Remember thee!
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat,
In this distracted globe; remember thee—

Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
All register of books, all forms and pressures past,
That youth and observation copied there,
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with baser matter. Yes, by heav'n:
O most pernicious woman!
O villain, villain, smiling damned villain!
My tables—meet it is I should set down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least I'm sure he may be so in Denmark. [Writing.
So, uncle, there you are; now to my word:
It is, farewel, remember me.
I have sworn it.

Hor. within.
My Lord, my Lord!

Mar. within.
Lord Hamlet!

Hor. within.
Heaven secure him!

Ham.
So be it.

Hor. within.
Illo, ho, ho, my Lord!

Ham.
Hillo, ho, ho, boy, come, bird, come. Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Mar.
How it't, my noble Lord?

Hor.
What news, my Lord?

Ham.
O wonderful!

Hor.
Good my Lord, tell it.

Ham.
No, you'll reveal it.

Hor.
Not I, my Lord.

Ham.
How say you then, would heart of man once think it?—
But you'll be secret?

Both.
As death, my Lord.

Ham.
There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark,
But he's an arrant knave.

Hor.
There needs no ghost, my Lord, come from the grave,
To tell us this.

Ham.
Why, right; you're in the right;
And so without more circumstance at all,

I hold it fit that we shake hands, and part;
You as your business and desires shall point;
(For every man has business and desire,
Such as it is)—and for my poor part,
I will go pray* ^note.

Hor.
These are but wild and windy words, my Lord.

Ham.
I'm sorry they offend you, heartily.

Hor.
There's no offence, my Lord.

Ham.
Yes, by St. Patrick, but there is, Horatio.
And much offence, too. Touching this vision, here—
It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you:
For your desire to know what is between us.
O'er-master't as you may: and now, good friends
As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,
Grant me one poor request.

Hor.
What is't, my Lord?

Ham.
Never make known what you have seen, to-night.

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 sword.

Hor.
Propose the oath, my Lord.

Ham.
Never to speak of this you have seen—
Swear by my sword

Ghost, below.
Swear.

Hor.
O day and night! but this is wond'rous strange.

Ham.
And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things in heav'n and earth, Horatio.
Than are dreamt of in our philosophy. But come,
Here, as before, Never, so help you mercy,
How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself,
(As I perchance hereafter shall think meet,
To put an antic disposition on)
That you, at such times seeing me, never shall

With arms encumbred thus, or head thus shak'd,
Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,
As—well—we know—or, we could, an if we would—
Or such ambiguous giving out, denote
That you know aught of me. This do ye swear,
So grace and mercy at your most need help you!

Ghost.
Swear.

Ham.
Rest, rest, perturbed spirit. So, gentlemen,
With all my love I do commend me to you;
And what so poor a man as Hamlet is,
May do t'express his love and friendship to you,
Shall never fail: Let us go in together;
And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.
The time is out of joint: oh cursed spight,
That ever I was born to set it right! [Exeunt.* ^note

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