Marcellus.
Fran.
I think, I hear them. Stand, ho! Who is there?
Hor.
Friends to this ground.
Mar.
And liege-men to the Dane.
Fran.
Give you good night.
Mar.
Oh, farewel, honest soldier. Who hath reliev'd you:
Fran.
Bernardo has my place. Give you good night.
[Exit Francisco.
Mar.
Holla! Bernardo.
Ber.
Say, what, is Horatio there?
2 noteHor.
A piece of him.
Ber.
Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Marcellus.
Mar.
What, has this thing appeared again to night?
Ber.
I have seen nothing.
Mar.
Horatio says, 'tis but our phantasy,
And will not let belief take hold of him,
Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us;
Therefore I have intreated him along
With us, to watch the minutes of this night,
-- 131 --
That if again this apparition come,
He may 3 noteapprove our eyes, and speak to it.
Hor.
Tush! tush! 'twill not appear.
Ber.
Sit down a while,
And let us once again assail your ears,
That are so fortified against our story,
4 noteWhat we two nights have seen.—
Hor.
Well, sit we down,
And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
Ber.
Last night of all,
When yon same Star, that's westward from the pole,
Had made his course t'illume that part of heav'n
Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,
The bell then beating one,—
Mar.
Peace, break thee off;
Enter the Ghost.
Look, where it comes again.
Ber.
In the same figure; like the King that's dead.
Mar.
Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.
Ber.
Looks it not like the King? Mark it, Horatio.
Hor.
Most like. It harrows me with fear and wonder.
Ber.
It would be spoke to.
Mar.
Speak to it, Horatio.
Hor.
What art thou, that usurp'st this time of night,
Together with that fair and warlike form,
In which the Majesty of buried Denmark
Did sometime march? By Heav'n, I charge thee, speak.
Mar.
It is offended.
Ber.
See! it stalks away.
-- 132 --
Hor.
Stay; speak; I charge thee, speak.
[Exit Ghost.
Mar.
'Tis gone, and will not answer.
Ber.
How now, Horatio? you tremble and look pale.
Is not this something more than phantasy?
What think you of it?
Hor.
Before my God, I might not this believe,
Without the sensible and true avouch
Of mine own eyes.
Mar.
Is it not like the King?
Hor.
As thou art to thyself.
Such was the very armour he had on,
When he th' ambitious Norway combated;
So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle,
5 note
He smote the sleaded Polack on the ice.
'Tis strange—
Mar.
Thus twice before, 6 note
and just at this dead hour,
With martial stalk, he hath gone by our Watch.
Hor.
In what particular thought to work, I know not,
-- 133 --
But, in the gross and scope of my opinion,
This bodes some strange eruption to our State.
Mar.
Good now sit down, and tell me, he that knows,
Why this same strict and most observant Watch
So nightly toils the Subjects of the Land?
And why such daily cast of brazen Cannon,
And foreign mart for implements of war?
Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
Does not divide the Sunday from the week?
What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
Doth make the night joint labourer with the day,
Who is't, that can inform me?
Hor.
That can I;
At least, the whisper goes so. Our last King,
Whose image but even now appear'd to us,
Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
Thereto prickt on by a most emulate pride,
Dar'd to the fight: In which, our valiant Hamlet
(For so this side of our known world esteem'd him)
Did slay this Fortinbras, 7 note
who by seal'd compact,
Well ratified by law and heraldry,
-- 134 --
Did forfeit, with his life, all those his Lands,
Which he stood seiz'd of, to the Conqueror;
Against the which, a moiety competent
Was gaged by our King; which had return'd
To the inheritance of Fortinbras,
Had he been vanquisher; 8 note
as by that cov'nant,
noteAnd carriage of the articles design'd,
His fell to Hamlet. Now young Fortinbras,
1 note
Of unimproved mettle hot and full,
Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there,
Shark'd up a list of landless resolutes,
For food and diet, to some enterprize
2 noteThat hath a stomach in't; which is no other,
As it doth well appear unto our State,
But to recover of us by strong hand,
3 noteAnd terms compulsative, those foresaid Lands
So by his father lost: and this, I take it,
Is the main motive of our preparations,
The source of this our watch, and the chief head
Of this post-haste and romage in the Land.
-- 135 --
Ber.
* noteI think, it be no other; but even so
Well may it sort, that this portentous figure
Comes armed through our watch so like the King,
That was, and is, the question of these wars.
Hor.
A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
In the most high and 4 notepalmy State of Rome,
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
The Graves stood tenantless; and the sheeted Dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets;
Stars shone with trains of fire, Dews of blood fell;
5 noteDisasters veil'd the Sun; and the moist Star,
Upon whose influence Neptune's Empire stands,
Was sick almost to dooms-day with eclipse.
And even the like 6 noteprecurse of fierce events,
As harbingers preceding still the fates,
7 note
And prologue to the omen'd coming on,
Have heav'n and earth together demonstrated
Unto our climatures and country-men.
Enter Ghost again.
But soft, behold! lo, where it comes again!
I'll cross it, though it blast me. Stay, illusion!
[Spreading his Arms.
-- 136 --
8 noteIf thou hast any sound, or use of voice,
Speak to me.
If there be any good thing to be done,
That may to thee do ease, and grace to me,
Speak to me.
If thou art privy to thy Country's fate,
Which happily foreknowing may avoid,
Oh speak!—
Or, if thou hast uphoarded in thy life
Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,
For which, they say, you Spirits oft walk in death,
[Cock crows.
Speak of it. Stay, and speak—Stop it, Marcellus.—
Mar.
Shall I strike at it with my partizan?
Hor.
Do, if it will not stand.
Ber.
'Tis here—
Hor.
'Tis here—
Mar.
'Tis gone.
[Exit Ghost.
We do it wrong, being so majestical,
To offer it the shew of violence;
For it is as the air, invulnerable,
And our vain blows, malicious mockery.
Ber.
It was about to speak when the cock crew.
Hor.
And then it started like a guilty thing
Upon a fearful Summons. I have heard,
The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
Awake the God of day; and, at his warning,
9 note
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
-- 137 --
1 noteTh' extravagant and erring Spirit hies
To his Confine: And of the truth herein
This present object made probation.
Mar.
It faded on the crowing of the cock.
Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of Dawning singeth all night long:
And then, they say, no Spirit 2 notecan walk abroad,
The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,
3 noteNo fairy takes, no witch hath power to charm;
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
Hor.
So have I heard, and do in part believe it.
But look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon 4 notehigh eastern hill.
Break we our watch up; and, by my advice,
Let us impart what we have seen to night
Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,
This Spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him:
Do you consent, we shall acquaint him with it,
As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?
Mar.
Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know
Where we shall find him most conveniently.
[Exeunt.
-- 138 --
SCENE II.
Changes to the Palace.
Enter Claudius King of Denmark, Gertrude the Queen, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, Voltimand, Cornelius, Lords and Attendants.
King.
Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death
The memory be green, and that it us befitted
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,
T' 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;
5 noteColleagued with this dream of his advantage,
He hath not fail'd to pester us with message
-- 139 --
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 ourself, 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
Of these dilated articles allows.
Farewell, 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 would'st thou beg, Laertes,
That shall not be my offer, not thy asking?
6 note
The head is not more native to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than to the throne of Denmark is thy father.
What wouldst thou have, Laertes?
-- 140 --
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.
7 note
Take thy fair hour, Laertes, time be thine;
And thy best Graces spend it at thy Will.
-- 141 --
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son—
Ham.
8 note
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 9 notetoo 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.
-- 142 --
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:
But you must know, 1 note
your father lost a father;
That father lost, lost his; and the survivor bound
In filial obligation, for some term,
To do 2 noteobsequious sorrow. But to persevere
3 noteIn obstinate condolement, is a course
-- 143 --
Of impious stubbornness, unmanly grief.
It shews 4 notea will most incorrect to heav'n,
A heart unfortify'd, a mind impatient,
An understanding simple, and unschool'd;
For, what we know must be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heav'n,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
5 note
To Reason most absurd; whose common theam
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cry'd,
From the first coarse, 'till he that died to day,
“This must be so.” We pray you, throw to earth
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;
6 note
And with no less nobility of love,
Than that which dearest father bears his son,
7 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;
-- 144 --
Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come;
This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart, in grace whereof
8 noteNo 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.
SCENE III.
Manet Hamlet.
Ham.
Oh, that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
9 note
Or that the Everlasting had not fixt
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't! oh fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in nature,
Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
But two months dead! nay, not so much; not two—
1 note
So excellent a King, that was, to this,
-- 145 --
Hyperion to a Satyr; so loving to my mother,
2 note
That he might not let e'en the winds of heav'n
Visit her face too roughly. Heav'n and earth!
Must I remember?—why, she would hang on him,
As if Increase of Appetite had grown
By what it fed on; yet, within a month,—
Let me not think—Frailty, thy name is Woman!
A little month! or ere those shoes were old,
With which she followed my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears—Why she, ev'n she,—
O heav'n! 3 note
a beast, that wants discourse of reason,
Would have mourn'd longer—, married with mine uncle
My father's brother; but no more like my father,
-- 146 --
Than I to Hercules. Within a month!—
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her gauled eyes,
She married.—Oh, most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
It is not, nor it cannot come to Good.
But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
SCENE IV.
Enter Horatio, Bernardo, and Marcellus.
Hor.
Hail to your lordship!
Ham.
I am glad to see you well;
Horatio,—or I do forget my self?
Hor.
The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.
Ham.
Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you;
And 4 notewhat make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?
Marcellus!
Mar.
My good lord—
Ham.
I am very glad to see you; 5 notegood even, Sir.
But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?
Hor.
A truant disposition, good my lord.
Ham.
I would not hear your enemy say so;
Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
To make it Truster of your own report
Against yourself. I know, you are no truant;
-- 147 --
But what is your affair in Elsinoor?
We'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.
Hor.
My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.
Ham.
I pr'ythee, do not mock me, fellow-student;
I think, it was to see my mother's wedding.
Hor.
Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.
Ham.
Thrift, thrift, Horatio; the funeral bak'd meats
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage-tables.
'Would, I had met my 6 notedearest foe in heav'n,
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!
My father—methinks, I see my father.
Hor.
Oh where, my lord?
Ham.
In my mind's eye, Horatio.
Hor.
I saw him once, he was a goodly King.
Ham.
He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again.6Q0253
Hor.
My lord, I think, I saw him yesternight.
Ham.
Saw! whom?—
Hor.
My lord, the King your father.
Ham.
The King my father!
Hor.
7 noteSeason your admiration but a while,
With an attentive ear; 'till I deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.
Ham.
For heaven's love, let me hear.
Hor.
Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,
In the dead vast and middle of the night,
Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,
Arm'd at all points exactly, Cap-à-pé,
Appears before them, and with solemn march
Goes slow and stately by them; thrice he walk'd,
By their opprest and fear-surprised eyes,
-- 148 --
Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distill'd
Almost to jelly 8 note
with the act of fear,
Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secresy impart they did,
And I with them the third night kept the watch;
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The Apparition comes. I knew your father:
These hands are not more like.
Ham.
But where was this?
Mar.
My lord, upon the Platform where we watcht.
Ham.
Did you not speak to it?
Hor.
My lord, I did;
But answer made it none; yet once, methought,
It lifted up its head, and did address
Itself to motion, like as it would speak;
But even then the morning cock crew loud;
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
And vanish'd from our sight.
Ham.
'Tis very strange.
Hor.
As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true;
And we did think it writ down in our duty
To let you know of it.
-- 149 --
Ham.
Indeed, indeed, Sirs, but this troubles me.
Hold you the watch to-night?
Both.
We do, my lord.
Ham.
Arm'd, say you?
Both.
Arm'd, my lord.
Ham.
From top to toe?
Both.
My lord, from head to foot.
Ham.
Then saw you not his face?
Hor.
Oh, yes, my lord, he wore his beaver up.
Ham.
What, look'd he frowningly?
Hor.
A count'nance more in sorrow than in anger.
Ham.
Pale, or red?
Hor.
Nay, very pale.
Ham.
And fixt his eyes upon you?
Hor.
Most constantly.
Ham.
I would, I had been there!
Hor.
It would have much amaz'd you.
Ham.
Very like. Staid it long?
Hor.
While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
Both.
Longer, longer.
Hor.
Not when I saw't.
Ham.
His beard was grisly?
Hor.
It was, as I have seen it in his life,
A sable silver'd.
Ham.
I'll watch to night; perchance, 'twill walk again.
Hor.
I warrant you, it will.
Ham.
If it assume my noble father's person,
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
9 note
Let it be treble in your silence still:
-- 150 --
And whatsoever shall befal to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue;
I will requite your loves; so fare ye well.
Upon the platform 'twixt eleven and twelve
I'll visit you.
All.
Our duty to your Honour.
[Exeunt.
Ham.
Your loves, as mine to you. Farewel.
My father's Spirit in arms! all is not well.
I doubt some foul play. Would, the night were come!
'Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise,
Tho' all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.
[Exit.
SCENE V.
Changes to an Apartment in Polonius's House.
Enter Laertes and Ophelia.
Laer.
My necessaries are imbark'd, farewel.
And, sister, as the winds give benefit,
And Convoy is assistant, do not sleep,
But let me hear from you.
Oph.
Do you doubt that?
Laer.
For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,
Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood;
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, tho' sweet, not lasting:
1 note
The perfume, and suppliance of a minute:
No more.—
-- 151 --
Oph.
No more but so?
Laer.
Think it no more:
For Nature, crescent, does not grow alone
In thews and bulk; but, as this Temple waxes,
The inward service of the mind and soul
Grows wide withal. Perhaps, he loves you now;
2 note
And now no soil, nor cautel, doth besmerch
The virtue of his will: but you must fear,
His Greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own:
For he himself is subject to his Birth;
He may not, as unvalued persons do,
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
3 note
The sanity and health of the whole State:
And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd
Unto the voice and yielding of that body,
Whereof he's head. Then, if he says, he loves you,
It fits your wisdom so far to believe it,
As he in his peculiar act and place
May give his Saying deed; which is no further,
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
-- 152 --
Then weigh, what loss your Honour may sustain,
If with too credent ear you list his songs;
Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open
To his unmaster'd importunity.
Fear it. Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister;
And 4 notekeep within the rear of your affection,
Out of the shot and danger of desire.
The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon:
Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes;
The canker galls the Infants of the Spring,
Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd;
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Be wary then, best safety lies in fear;
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
Oph.
I shall th' effects of this good lesson keep,
As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Shew me the steep and thorny way to heav'n;
5 note
Whilst, like a puft and careless libertine,
-- 153 --
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And 6 noterecks not his own read.
Laer.
Oh, fear me not.
SCENE VI.
Enter Polonius.
I stay too long;—but here my father comes:
A double blessing is a double grace;
Occasion smiles upon a second leave.
Pol.
Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard for shame;
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
And you are staid for. There;—
My Blessing with you;
[Laying his hand on Laertes's head.
And these few precepts in thy memory
See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act:
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar;
The friends thou hast, and their adoption try'd,
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel,
7 note
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware
Of Entrance to a quarrel, but being in,
-- 154 --
Bear't that th' opposer may beware of thee.
Give ev'ry man thine ear; but few thy voice.
Take each man's censure; but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not exprest in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man,
And they in France of the best rank and station
Are most select and generous, chief in That.
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be;
For Loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of Husbandry.
This above all; to thine own self be true;
8 note
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
-- 155 --
Farewell; 9 note
my Blessing season this in thee!
Laer.
Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.
Pol.
1 note
The time invites you; go, your servants tend.
Laer.
Farewel, Ophelia, and remember well
What I have said.
Oph.
'Tis in my mem'ry lock't,
And you 2 noteyourself shall keep the key of it.
Laer.
Farewel.
[Exit Laer.
Pol.
What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you?
Oph.
So please you, something touching the lord Hamlet.
Pol.
Marry, well bethought!
'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late
Given private time to you; and you yourself
Have of your audience been most free and bounteous.
If it be so, as so 'tis put on me,
And that in way of caution, I must tell you,
You do not understand yourself so clearly,
As it behoves my daughter, and your honour.
What is between you? Give me up the truth.
Oph.
He hath, my Lord, of late, made many tenders
Of his Affection to me.
Pol.
Affection! puh! you speak like a green girl,
-- 156 --
3 noteUnsifted in such perilous circumstance.
Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?
Oph.
I do not know, my Lord, what I should think.
Pol.
Marry, I'll teach you. Think yourself a baby,
That you have ta'en his tenders for true pay,
Which are not sterling. 4 note
Tender yourself more dearly;
Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,
Wronging it thus) you'll tender me a fool.
Oph.
My Lord, he hath importun'd me with love,
In honourable fashion.
Pol.
Ay, 5 notefashion you may call't: Go to, go to.
Oph.
And hath giv'n count'nance to his speech, my Lord,
With almost all the holy vows of heav'n.
Pol.
Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know,
-- 157 --
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
Lends the tongue vows. These blazes, oh my daughter,
Giving more light than heat, extinct in both,
Ev'n in their promise as it is a making,
You must not take for fire. From this time,
Be somewhat scanter of thy maiden-presence,
6 noteSet your intreatments at a higher rate,
Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,
Believe so much in him, that he is young;
And with a 7 notelarger tether he may walk,
Than may be given you. In few, Ophelia,
Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers,
Not of that Die which their investments shew,
But meer implorers of unholy suits,
8 note
Breathing like sanctified and pious Bonds,
The better to beguile. This is for all:
9 note
I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
-- 158 --
Have you so slander any moment's leisure,
As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet.
Look to't, I charge you. Come your way.
Oph.
I shall obey, my Lord.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VII.
Changes to the Platform before the Palace.
Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus.
Ham.
The Air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.
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. It then draws near the season,
Wherein the Spirit held his wont to walk.
[Noise of warlike musick within.
What does this mean, my Lord?
Ham.
The King doth wake to night, and takes his rouse,
Keeps wassel, and 1 notethe swagg'ring up-spring reels;
And as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,
The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out
The triumph of his pledge.
Hor.
Is it a custom?
Ham.
Ay, marry, is't:
-- 159 --
But, to my mind, though I am native here,
And to the manner born, it is a custom
More honour'd in the breach, than the observance.
2 note
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 atchievements, though perform'd at height,
3 noteThe pith and marrow of our attribute.
So, oft it chances in particular men,
That for some vicious mole of nature in them,
As, in their birth, wherein they are not guilty,
Since nature cannot chuse his origin,
By the o'ergrowth of some 4 notecomplexion,
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason;
Or by some habit, that too much o'er-leavens
The form of plausive manners; that these men
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,
Being nature's livery, or 5 note
fortune's scar,
Their virtues else, be they as pure as grace,
6 noteAs infinite as man may undergo,
Shall in the general censure take corruption
From that particular fault.—7 note
The dram of Base
-- 160 --
Doth all the noble substance of Worth out6Q0254,
To his own scandal.
Enter Ghost.
Hor.
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 heav'n, or blasts from hell,
Be thy intents wicked or charitable,
Thou com'st in such a 8 note
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 9 note
tell,
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,
-- 161 --
Have burst their cearments? Why the sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To cast thee up again? What may this mean,
-- 162 --
That thou, dead corse, again, in compleat steel,
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous, and 1 noteus fools of nature
So horribly 2 noteto shake our disposition
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
Say, why is this? Wherefore? What should we do?
[Ghost beckons Hamlet.
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 off to a 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 do not set my life at a pin's fee;
And, for my soul, what can it do to that,
-- 163 --
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,
That beetles o'er his Base into the sea;
And there assume some other horrible form,
Which might 3 note
deprive your sov'reignty of reason,
And draw you into madness? think of it.
4 noteThe very place 5 noteputs toys of desperation,
Without more motive, into ev'ry brain,
That looks so many fathoms to the sea;
And hears it roar beneath.
Ham.
It waves me still.—Go on, I'll follow thee.
Mar.
You shall not go, my Lord.
Ham.
Hold off your hands.
Mar.
Be rul'd, you shall 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 heav'n, I'll make a Ghost of him that lets me—
-- 164 --
I say, away.—Go on—I'll follow thee—
[Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet.
Hor.
He waxes desp'rate 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 Denmark.
Hor.
Heav'n will direct it.
Mar.
Nay, let's follow him.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VIII.
A more remote Part of the Platform.
Re-enter Ghost and Hamlet.
Ham.
Where 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 sulphurous 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.
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, 6 note
confin'd to fast in fires;
-- 165 --
'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, oh list!
If thou did'st ever thy dear father love—
Ham.
O heav'n!
Ghost.
Revenge his foul and most unnatural 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 it, that I, with wings as swift
7 note
As meditation or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.
Ghost.
I find thee apt;
8 note
And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
-- 166 --
That roots itself in ease on Lethe's wharf,
Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear.
'Tis given out, that, sleeping in my 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,
The serpent, that did sting thy father's life,
Now wears his crown.
Ham.
Oh, my prophetick soul! my uncle?
Ghost.
Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
With witchcraft of his wit, with trait'rous 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.
Oh Hamlet, what a falling off was there!
From me, whose 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, 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 heav'n;
So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,
Will sate itself in a celestial bed,
And prey on garbage.
But, soft! methinks, I scent the morning air—
Brief let me be; Sleeping within mine orchard,
My custom always of the afternoon,
Upon my secret hour thy uncle stole
With juice of cursed hebenon6Q0256 in a viol,
-- 167 --
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
The leperous distilment; whose effect
Holds such an enmity with blood of man,
That swift as quick-silver it courses through
The nat'ral gates and allies of the body;
And, with a sudden vigour, it doth posset
And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
The thin and wholsome blood: so did it mine,
And a most instant tetter bark'd about,
Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust
All my smooth body.—
Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand,
Of life, of Crown, of Queen, 9 noteat once dispatcht;
Cut off ev'n in the blossoms of my sin,
1 noteUnhousel'd, 2 notedisappointed, 3 note
unaneal'd:
-- 168 --
No reck'ning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head.
Oh, horrible! oh, horrible! most horrible!6Q0257
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 contrive
Against thy mother aught; leave her to heav'n,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!
The glow-worm shews the Matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his 4 noteuneffectual fire.
Adieu, adieu, adieu; remember me.
[Exit.
Ham.
Oh, all you host of heav'n! oh earth! what else?
And shall I couple hell?—Oh, hold my heart,
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old;
-- 169 --
But bear me stiffly 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 saws of books, all forms, all 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!
Oh villain, villain, smiling damned villain!
My tables,—meet it is, I set it down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least, I'm sure, it may be so in Denmark.
[Writing.
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word;
It is; Adieu, adieu, remember me.
I've sworn it—
SCENE IX.
Enter Horatio and Marcellus.
Hor.
My Lord, my Lord,—
Mar.
Lord Hamlet,—
Hor.
Heav'n secure him!
Mar.
So be it.
Hor.
Illo, ho, ho, my Lord!
Ham.
Hillo, ho, ho, boy. 5 noteCome, bird, come.
Mar.
How is't, my noble Lord?
Hor.
What news, my Lord?
Ham.
Oh, wonderful!
-- 170 --
Hor.
Good, my Lord, tell it.
Ham.
No, you'll reveal it.
Hor.
Not I, my Lord, by heav'n.
Mar.
Nor I, my Lord.
Ham.
How say you then, would heart of man once think it?
But you'll be secret—
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 Ghost, my Lord, come from the Grave
To tell us this.
Ham.
Why right, you are i'th' 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 you;
For every man has business and desire,
Such as it is; and, for my own poor part,
I will go pray.
Hor.
These are but wild and whirling words, my Lord.
Ham.
I'm sorry they offend you, heartily;
Yes, heartily.
Hor.
There's no offence, my Lord.
Ham.
Yes, 6 noteby St. Patrick, but there is, my Lord,
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 it as you may. And now, good friends,
-- 171 --
As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,
Give me one poor request.
Hor.
What is't, my Lord?
Ham.
Never make known what you have seen tonight.
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.
Mar.
We have sworn, my Lord, already.
Ham.
Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.
Ghost.
Swear.
[Ghost cries under the Stage.
Ham.
Ah ha, boy, say'st thou so? art thou there, true-penny?
Come on, you hear this fellow in the cellarage.
Consent to swear.
Hor.
Propose the oath, my Lord.
Ham.
Never to speak of this that you have seen,
7 note
Swear by my sword.
Ghost.
Swear.
Ham.
Hic & ubique? then we'll shift our ground.
Come hither, gentlemen,
And lay your hands again upon my sword.
Never to speak of this which you have heard,
Swear by my sword.
Ghost.
Swear by his sword.
Ham.
Well said, old mole, can'st work i'th'ground so fast!
-- 172 --
A worthy pioneer! Once more remove, good friends.
Hor.
Oh day and night, but this is wondrous strange.
Ham.
8 noteAnd therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things in heav'n and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your 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 antick disposition on,
That you, at such time seeing me, never shall,
With arms encumbred thus, or this head-shake,
Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,
As, well—we know—or, we could, and if we would—
Or, if we list to speak—or, there be, and if there might—
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!
Swear.
Ghost.
Swear.
Ham.
Rest, rest, perturbed Spirit. So, Gentlemen,
With all my love do I commend me to you;
And what so poor a man as Hamlet is
May do t'express his love and friending to you,
God willing shall not lack. 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.
Nay, come, let's go together.
[Exeunt.
-- 173 --
Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
