Ber.
Who's ^note there?

Fran.
Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.

Ber.
Long live the king!

Fran.
Bernardo? ^note

Ber.
He ^note.

Fran.
You come most carefully ^note upon your hour.

Ber.
'Tis now struck ^{note note} twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco.

Fran.
For this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter cold,
And I am sick at heart.

Ber.
Have you had quiet guard?

Fran.
Not a mouse stirring.

Ber.
Well, good night.
If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
The rivals ^note of my watch, bid them make haste. ^note

Fran.
I think I hear them. Stand, ho ^note! Who is ^note there? Enter ^note Horatio and Marcellus.

Hor.
Friends to this ground.

Mar.
And liegemen to the Dane.

Fran.
Give you ^note good night.

Mar.
O, farewell, honest soldier ^note:
Who hath ^note relieved you?

Fran.
Bernardo hath my ^note place.
Give you ^note good night. ^note [Exit. ^note

Mar.
Holla! Bernardo!

Ber.
Say, ^{note note}
What, is Horatio there? ^note

Hor.
A piece of him.

Ber.
Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus.

Mar. ^note
What, has ^note this thing appear'd again to-night? ^note

Ber.
I have seen nothing.

Mar.
Horatio says 'tis but our ^note fantasy,
And will not let belief take hold of him
Touching this dreaded sight ^note, twice seen of us:
Therefore I have entreated him along
With us to ^note watch the minutes of this night,

That if again this apparition come,
He may approve our eyes and speak to it.

Hor.
Tush, tush, ^note 'twill not appear.

Ber.
Sit down awhile;
And let us once again assail your ears,
That are so fortified against our story,
What we have two nights ^note seen. ^note

Hor.
Well, sit we ^note down,
And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.

Ber.
Last night of all,
When yond ^note same star that's westward from the pole
Had made his course to illume ^note that part of heaven
Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself, ^note
The bell then beating ^note one,— ^note Enter Ghost. ^note

Mar.
Peace, break thee off ^note; look, where it comes again! ^note

Ber.
In the same figure, like the king that's dead.

Mar.
Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.

Ber.
Looks it ^note not like the king? mark it, Horatio. ^note

Hor.
Most like: it harrows ^note me with fear and wonder.

Ber.
It would be spoke to.

Mar.
Question ^note it, Horatio.

Hor.
What art thou, that usurp'st ^note this time of night,
Together with that fair and warlike form
In which the majesty of buried Denmark

Did sometimes march? ^note by heaven ^note I charge thee, ^note speak!

Mar.
It is offended.

Ber.
See, it stalks away!

Hor.
Stay! speak, speak! ^note I charge thee, speak! [Exit Ghost. ^note

Mar.
'Tis gone, and will not answer.

Ber.
How now, Horatio! you tremble and look pale:
Is not this something more than fantasy?
What think you on't ^note?

Hor.
Before my God, I might not ^note this believe ^note
Without the sensible and true ^note avouch
Of mine own eyes.

Mar.
Is it not like the king?

Hor.
As thou art to thyself:
Such was the very ^note armour he had on
When he ^note the ambitious Norway combated;
So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle,
He smote ^note the sledded ^note Polacks ^note on the ice.
'Tis strange. ^note

Mar.
Thus twice before, and jump ^note at this dead ^{note note} hour,
With martial stalk hath he gone by ^note our watch.

Hor.
In what particular thought to ^note work I know not;
But, in the gross and ^note scope of my ^note opinion,
This bodes some strange eruption to our state.

Mar.
Good now, ^note sit down, and tell me, he that knows,

Why this same strict and most observant watch
So nightly toils the subject ^note of the land,
And why ^note such daily cast ^note of brazen cannon,
And foreign mart for implements of war;
Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
Does ^note not divide the Sunday from the week;
What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
Doth make ^note the night joint-labourer ^note 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 even but now appear'd to us,
Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate ^note pride,
Dared to the combat ^note; in which our valiant Hamlet—
For so this side of our known world esteem'd him—
Did slay this Fortinbras; who by a ^note seal'd compact,
Well ratified by law and ^note heraldry ^note,
Did forfeit, with his life, all those ^note his lands
Which he stood seized of ^note, to the conqueror:
Against the which, a moiety competent
Was gaged by our king; which had return'd ^note
To the inheritance of Fortinbras,
Had he been vanquisher; ^note as, by the same ^note covenant ^note
And carriage of the article design'd ^note,
His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir ^note, young Fortinbras,

Of unimproved ^note mettle ^note hot and full,
Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there
Shark'd up a list of lawless ^note resolutes,
For food and diet, to ^note some enterprise
That hath a stomach in't: which is ^note no other—
As ^note it doth well appear unto our state—
But to recover of us, by strong hand
And terms compulsatory ^note, 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.

Ber.
I think it be no other but e'en so ^note:
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 ^note it is to trouble the mind's eye.
In the most high and palmy ^note state ^note of Rome,
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
The graves stood tenantless ^note, and ^note the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets: ^note

As stars with trains of fire and dews ^note of blood, ^note

Disasters in ^{note note} the sun; and the moist star,
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands,
Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse:
And even the like precurse of fierce ^note events,
As ^note harbingers preceding still the fates
And prologue to the omen ^note coming on,
Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
Unto our climatures ^note and countrymen. ^note Re-enter Ghost. ^note
But soft, behold! lo, where it comes again! ^note
I'll cross it, though it blast me. Stay, illusion!
If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,
Speak to me:
If there be any good thing to be done ^note,
That may to thee do ease and grace to me,
Speak to me ^note:
If thou art privy to thy country's fate,
Which, happily, foreknowing ^note may avoid,
O, speak! ^note
Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life
Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,
For which, they say, you ^note spirits oft walk in death,
Speak of it: stay, and speak! [The cock crows. ^note] Stop it, Marcellus.

Mar.
Shall I strike at ^note it with my partisan?

Hor.
Do, if it will ^note not stand.

Ber.
'Tis here!

Hor.
'Tis here!

Mar. ^note
'Tis gone! [Exit Ghost. ^note
We do it wrong, being so majestical,
To offer it the show of violence;
For it is, as ^note 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 ^note,
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
Awake the god of day, and at his warning,
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
The extravagant ^note and erring spirit hies
To his confine: ^note and of the truth herein
This present object made probation.

Mar.
It faded on ^note the crowing of the cock.
Some say ^note that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The ^note bird of dawning singeth all night long:
And then ^note, they say, no spirit dare stir ^note abroad,
The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,
No fairy takes ^note nor ^note witch hath power to charm,
So hallow'd and so gracious is the ^note 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 high eastward ^note hill:
Break we our watch up; and by my advice ^note,
Let us impart what we have seen to-night
Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life, ^note
This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him:
Do you consent we shall ^note acquaint him with it,
As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?

Mar.
Let's ^note do't, I pray; and I this morning know
Where we shall find him most conveniently ^note. [Exeunt. Scene II. A room ^note of state in the castle. Flourish. ^note Enter ^note the King, Queen, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, Voltimand, Cornelius, Lords, and Attendants.

King.
Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death
The memory be ^note green, and that it us befitted ^{note note}
To bear ^note 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 ourselves.
Therefore our sometime ^note sister, now our queen,
The imperial jointress to ^note this warlike state,

Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,—
With an auspicious and a ^note dropping ^note 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. ^note
Now follows, that you know, young ^note 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,
Colleagued ^note with this ^note dream of his ^note advantage,
He hath not fail'd to pester us with message,
Importing the surrender of those lands
Lost by his father, with ^note all bonds ^note of law, ^note
To our most valiant brother. So much for him.
Now for ourself, and for this time of meeting: ^note
Thus much the business is: we have here writ
To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,—
Who, impotent and bed-rid ^note, scarcely hears
Of this his nephew's purpose,—to suppress
His further gait ^note herein; in ^note that the ^note levies,
The lists and full proportions, are all made
Out of his subject ^note: and we here ^note dispatch
You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand ^note,

For bearers ^note of this greeting ^note to old Norway,
Giving to you no further personal power
To business ^note with the king more than ^note the scope
Of ^note these delated ^note articles allow. ^note
Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty ^note.

Cor. Vol. ^note
In that and all things will we show our duty.

King.
We doubt it nothing ^note: heartily farewell. [Exeunt ^note Voltimand and Cornelius.
And ^note 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 ^note your voice: what wouldst thou beg, Laertes,
That shall not be my offer, not thy ^note asking?
The head ^note is not more native ^note to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than is the throne of Denmark to ^note thy father.
What wouldst thou have, Laertes?

Laer.
My dread ^note lord,
Your leave and favour to return to France,
From whence though willingly I came to Denmark,
To show my duty in your coronation,
Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend again toward ^note France
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.

King.
Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius? ^note

Pol.
He hath ^note, my lord, ^note wrung from me my slow leave
By laboursome petition ^note, and at last ^note
Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent: ^note
I do beseech you, give him leave to go.

King.
Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine, ^note
And thy best graces ^note spend ^note it at thy will!
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and ^note my son,— ^note

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

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

Ham.
Not so ^note, my lord; I am too much i' the sun ^note.

Queen.
Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted ^note colour off,
And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Do not for ever with thy vailed ^note lids
Seek for thy noble father in the dust:
Thou know'st 'tis ^note common; ^note all that lives ^note 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 ^note cloak, good mother ^note,
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,

Nor the dejected haviour of the visage,
Together with all forms, moods ^note, shapes ^note of grief,
That can denote ^note me truly: these indeed ^note seem,
For they are actions that a man might play:
But I have that within which passes ^note show;
These but the trappings and the suits of woe.

King.
'Tis sweet and ^note commendable in your nature, Hamlet, ^{note note}
To give these mourning duties to your father:
But, you must know, your father lost a father,
That ^note father lost, lost his ^note, and the survivor bound
In filial obligation for some term
To do obsequious sorrow ^note: but to persever ^note
In obstinate condolement is a course
Of ^note impious stubbornness; 'tis ^note unmanly grief:
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,
A heart unfortified, a mind ^note 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 heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason most absurd ^note, whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first corse ^note till he that died to-day,
‘This must be so.’ We pray you, throw to earth
This unprevailing ^note woe, and think of us

As of a father: for let ^note the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our throne,
And with ^note no less nobility ^note of love
Than that which dearest father bears his son
Do I ^note impart ^note toward ^note you. For ^note your intent
In going back to school in Wittenberg ^note,
It is most retrograde ^note to our desire:
And we beseech you, bend ^note you to remain
Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefest courtier, cousin and our son.

Queen.
Let not thy mother ^note lose ^note her prayers, Hamlet:
I pray thee ^note, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.

Ham.
I shall in all my best obey you, madam. ^note

King.
Why ^note, 'tis a loving and a fair reply:
Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come;
This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to ^note my heart: in grace whereof,
No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day,
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell ^note,
And the king's rouse ^note the heaven ^note shall bruit ^note again,
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away. [Flourish ^note. Exeunt ^note all but Hamlet. ^note

Ham.
O, that this too too solid ^{note note} flesh would melt,
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!

Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon ^note 'gainst self-slaughter ^note! O God! O God! ^note
How weary ^note, stale, flat and unprofitable
Seem ^note to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't! ah fie ^note! ^note 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
Possess it merely. That ^note it should come to this ^note!
But two months dead! nay, not so much, not two:
So excellent a king; that was, to this,
Hyperion to a satyr ^note: ^note so loving to my mother,
That he might not beteem ^{note note} the winds of heaven ^note
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
Must I remember? ^{note note} why, she would ^note hang on ^note him,
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on: and ^note yet, within a month—
Let me not think on't ^note—Frailty, thy name is woman!—
A little month, or ^note ere ^note those shoes ^note were old
With which she follow'd ^note my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears ^note:—why ^note she, even she, ^note—

O God ^note! a beast, that wants discourse of reason ^note,
Would have mourn'd longer,—married with my ^note uncle,
My father's brother, but ^note no more like my father
Than I to Hercules: within a month;
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous ^note tears
Had left the flushing in ^note her galled eyes,
She married. O, most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity ^note to incestuous sheets!
It is not, nor it cannot come to good:
But break, my ^note heart, for I must hold my tongue! Enter Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo. ^{note note}

Hor.
Hail to your lordship!

Ham.
I am glad to see you well ^note:
Horatio,— ^noteor I do ^note forget myself. ^note

Hor.
The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. ^note

Ham.
Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you: ^note
And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?
Marcellus? ^note

Mar.
My good lord? ^note

Ham.
I am very glad to see you. [To Ber.] ^note Good even ^note, sir. ^note

But what ^note, in faith ^note, make you from Wittenberg?

Hor.
A truant disposition, good my ^note lord.

Ham.
I would not hear ^note your enemy say so,
Nor shall you do my ^note ear that violence,
To make ^note it truster ^note of your own report
Against yourself: I know you are no truant.
But what is your affair in Elsinore ^note?
We'll teach you to drink deep ^note ere you depart.

Hor.
My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.

Ham.
I prethee ^note, do not mock me, fellow-student ^note;
I think it was to see ^note my mother's wedding.

Hor.
Indeed, my lord, it follow'd ^note hard upon.

Ham.
Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked-meats
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
Or ever I had ^note seen that day, Horatio!
My father!—methinks I see my father.

Hor.
O where ^note, my lord?

Ham.
In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Hor.
I saw him once; he was a goodly king.

Ham.
He ^note was a man, take him for ^note all in all,
I shall ^note not look upon his like again.

Hor.
My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.

Ham.
Saw? who? ^note

Hor.
My lord, the king your father.

Ham.
The king my father!

Hor.
Season ^note your admiration for ^note a while
With an attent ^note ear, till I may ^note deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel ^note to you.

Ham.
For God's ^note love, ^note let me hear.

Hor.
Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,
In the dead vast ^note and middle of the night,
Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,
Armed at point ^note exactly, cap-a-pe ^note,
Appears before them, and with solemn march
Goes slow and stately by them: thrice ^note he walk'd
By their oppress'd and fear-surprised ^note eyes,
Within his ^note truncheon's length; whilst they, distill'd ^note
Almost to jelly with the act of ^note fear, ^note
Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did; ^note
And I with them the third night kept the watch:
Where, as ^note they had deliver'd, both in ^note time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition ^note comes: I knew your father;
These hands are not more like.

Ham.
But where was this?

Mar.
My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.

Ham.
Did you not ^note speak to it?

Hor.
My lord, I did,
But answer made it ^note none: yet once methought
It lifted up its ^note head and did address
Itself to motion, like ^note 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 ^note lord, 'tis true,
And we did think it writ down in ^note our duty
To let you know of ^note it.

Ham.
Indeed, indeed ^note, sirs, but this troubles me.
Hold you the watch to-night?

Mar. Ber. ^note
We do, my lord.

Ham.
Arm'd, say you?

Mar. Ber. ^note
Arm'd, my lord.

Ham.
From top to toe?

Mar. Ber. ^note
My lord ^note, from head to foot.

Ham.
Then saw you not his face? ^note

Hor.
O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up ^note. ^note

Ham.
What, look'd he ^note frowningly?

Hor.
A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.

Ham.
Pale or red?

Hor.
Nay, very pale.

Ham.
And fix'd his eyes upon you?

Hor.
Most constantly.

Ham.
I would I had been there.

Hor.
It would have much amazed you.

Ham.
Very like, very like ^note. Stay'd it long?

Hor.
While one with moderate ^note haste might tell a ^note hundred ^note.

Mar. Ber. ^{note note}
Longer, longer.

Hor.
Not when I saw't.

Ham.
His beard was grizzled? no? ^note

Hor.
It was ^note, as ^note I have seen it in his life,
A sable silver'd.

Ham.
I will ^note watch to-night;
Perchance 'twill walk ^note again.

Hor.
I warrant ^note 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 ^note this sight,
Let it be tenable ^note in ^note your ^note silence still ^note,
And whatsoever ^note else shall hap ^note to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue:
I will requite your loves. So fare ^note you ^note well:
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven ^note and twelve,

I'll visit you.

All.
Our duty ^note to your honour ^note.

Ham.
Your loves ^note, as mine to you: farewell. ^note [Exeunt all but Hamlet. ^note
My father's spirit in arms! ^note all is not well;
I doubt some foul play: would the night were come!
Till then sit still, my soul: foul ^note deeds will rise,
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to ^note men's eyes. [Exit. ^note Scene III. [Footnote: A room ^note in Polonius's house. Enter Laertes and Ophelia. ^note

Laer.
My necessaries are embark'd ^note: farewell:
And, sister, as the winds give benefit
And convoy is assistant ^note, do not sleep ^note,
But let me hear from you.

Oph.
Do you doubt that?

Laer.
For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour ^note,
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood,
A violet in the youth of primy ^{note note} nature,
Forward ^note, not permanent, sweet, not ^note lasting,

The perfume and ^note suppliance ^note of a minute; ^note
No more. ^note

Oph.
No more but so? ^note

Laer.
Think it no more ^note:
For nature crescent ^note does not grow alone
In thews and bulk ^note; but, as this ^note temple waxes,
The inward service of the mind and ^note soul
Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now;
And now no soil nor ^note cautel doth besmirch
The virtue of his will ^note: but you must fear, ^note
His greatness weigh'd ^note, his will is not his own;
For he himself is subject to his birth: ^note
He may not, as unvalued ^note persons do,
Carve for ^note himself, for on his choice depends
The safety ^note and health ^note of this ^note whole ^note state,
And therefore must his choice be circumscribed
Unto the voice and yielding of that body
Whereof he is the ^note head. Then if he says he loves you,
It fits your wisdom so far to believe it
As he in his particular act and place ^note
May give his saying deed; which is no further
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.

Then weigh ^note what ^note loss your honour may sustain,
If with too ^note credent ear you list his songs,
Or lose ^note your heart, or your chaste treasure open
To his unmaster'd ^note importunity.
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,
And keep you in ^note 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 ^note the infants ^note of the spring
Too oft before their ^note buttons be disclosed,
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 the effect ^note of this good lesson keep,
As watchman ^note to ^note my ^note heart. But, good my brother,
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep ^note and thorny way to heaven ^note,
Whilst, like a ^note puff'd and reckless ^{note note} libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads ^note
And recks ^note not his ^note own rede ^note.

Laer.
O, fear me not. ^note
I stay too long: but here my father comes.

Enter Polonius. ^{note note}
A double blessing is a double grace;
Occasion smiles upon a second leave.

Pol.
Yet here, Laertes! Aboard, aboard ^note, for shame!
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, ^note
And you are stay'd ^note for. There; my ^note blessing with thee ^note!
And these few precepts in thy memory
Look ^note thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
Those ^note friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to ^note thy soul with hoops ^note of steel,
But do not dull ^note thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd ^note, unfledged comrade ^note. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,
Bear't, that th' opposed ^note may beware of thee.
Give every man thy ear ^note, but few thy voice:
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgement.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy:
For the apparel oft proclaims the man;
And they in France of the best rank and station
Are of a most select and generous chief in that. ^note
Neither a borrower nor a lender be ^note:
For loan ^note oft loses ^note both itself and friend,

And ^note borrowing dulls the edge ^note of husbandry.
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night ^note the day ^note,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell: my blessing season this in thee! ^note

Laer.
Most humbly do I ^note take my leave, my lord.

Pol.
The time invites ^note you; go, your servants tend.

Laer.
Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well
What I have said to you ^note.

Oph.
'Tis in ^note my memory lock'd,
And you yourself shall keep the key of it.

Laer.
Farewell. [Exit. ^note

Pol.
What is't, Ophelia, he hath ^note said to you?

Oph.
So please you, something touching the Lord ^note 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. ^note

Oph.
He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
Of his affection to me.

Pol.
Affection! pooh! ^note you speak like a green girl,
Unsifted ^note 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 ^note teach you: think yourself a baby,
That you have ta'en these ^note tenders for true pay,
Which are not sterling ^note. Tender yourself more dearly;
Or—not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,
Running ^note it thus—you'll tender me a fool.

Oph.
My lord, he hath importuned me with love
In honourable fashion.

Pol.
Ay, fashion you may call it ^note; go to, go to.

Oph.
And hath given countenance to his ^note speech, my lord,
With almost all the holy ^note vows of heaven ^note.

Pol.
Ay, springes ^note to catch woodcocks. I do know,
When the blood burns, how prodigal ^note the soul
Lends ^note the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter ^note,
Giving more light than heat, extinct in both ^note,
Even in their ^note promise, as it is a-making,
You must not take ^note for fire. From this time ^note
Be something ^note scanter of your ^note maiden presence;
Set your entreatments ^note at a higher rate
Than a command to parley ^note. For Lord Hamlet,
Believe so much in him, that he is young,
And with a larger tether ^note may he ^note walk

Than may be given you: in few, Ophelia,
Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers,
Not of that dye ^note which their investments show,
But mere ^note implorators ^note of unholy suits,
Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds ^note,
The better to beguile ^note. This is for all:
I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
Have you so slander ^note any moment ^note leisure,
As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet.
Look to't, I charge you: come ^note your ways ^note.

Oph.
I shall obey, my lord ^note. [Exeunt. ^note Scene IV. [Footnote: The platform. ^note Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and ^note Marcellus.

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

Hor.
It is a ^note nipping and an ^note eager air.

Ham.
What hour now?

Hor.
I think it lacks of twelve.

Mar.
No, it is ^note struck ^note.

Hor.
Indeed? I ^note heard it not: it then ^note draws near the season

Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. [A flourish ^note of trumpets, and ordnance shot off within.
What does this mean, my lord? ^note

Ham.
The king doth wake ^note to-night and takes his rouse,
Keeps wassail ^note, and the swaggering up-spring reels ^note;
And as he drains ^note his draughts of Rhenish down,
The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out ^note
The triumph of his pledge.

Hor.
Is it ^note a custom?

Ham.
Ay, marry, is't: ^note
But ^note to my mind, though I am native ^note here
And to the manner born, it is a custom
More honour'd in the breach than the observance.
This heavy-headed revel ^note east and west
Makes ^note us traduced ^note and tax'd ^note of other nations:
They clepe ^note 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 ^note it chances in particular men,
That for some vicious mole ^note of nature in them,

As, in their birth,—wherein they are not guilty,
Since nature cannot choose his origin,—
By the ^note o'ergrowth of some complexion,
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 ^note, or fortune's star ^note,—
Their ^note virtues else—be they as pure as grace,
As infinite as man may undergo—
Shall in the general censure take corruption
From that particular fault ^note: the dram of eale
Doth all the noble substance of a doubt ^note
To his ^note own scandal ^note. ^note

Enter Ghost. ^note

Hor.
Look, my lord, it ^note 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 heaven or blasts from hell,
Be thy intents ^note wicked or charitable,
Thou comest in such a questionable ^note shape
That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet,
King, father, royal Dane: O ^{note note}, answer me!
Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell
Why thy ^note canonized ^note bones, hearsed in death ^{note note},
Have burst their cerements ^note; why the sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd ^note,
Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws,
To cast thee up again. What may this mean,
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel,
Revisit'st ^note thus the glimpses of the moon, ^note
Making night hideous; and we ^note fools of nature
So horridly ^note to shake our disposition
With thoughts beyond the reaches ^note of our souls?
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do? [Ghost beckons Hamlet. ^note

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 ^note you to a more ^note removed ^note ground: ^note
But do not go with it.

Hor.
No, by no means.

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

Hor.
Do not, my lord.

Ham.
Why, what should ^note be the fear?
I do not set my life at a pin's fee; ^note
And for my soul, what can it do to that,
Being a thing immortal as ^note itself?
It waves me forth again: I'll follow it.

Hor.
What if it tempt you toward ^note the flood ^note, my lord ^note,
Or to the dreadful summit ^note of the cliff ^note
That beetles ^note o'er his base into the sea,
And there assume ^note some other horrible form,
Which might deprive ^note your sovereignty of reason ^note
And draw ^note you into madness? think of it: ^note
The very place puts toys of desperation,
Without more motive, into every brain
That looks so many fathoms to the sea
And hears it roar beneath. ^note

Ham.
It waves ^note me still.

Go on; I'll follow thee. ^note

Mar.
You shall not go, my lord.

Ham.
Hold off ^note your hands ^note.

Hor. ^{note note}
Be ruled; you shall not go.

Ham.
My fate cries out,
And makes each petty artery ^note in this ^note body ^note
As hardy ^note as the Nemean ^note lion's nerve. ^note
Still am I ^note call'd: ^note unhand me, gentlemen;
By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me:
I say, away! Go on ^note; I'll follow thee. [Exeunt ^note Ghost and Hamlet.

Hor.
He waxes desperate with imagination ^note.

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.
Heaven ^note will direct it ^note.

Mar.
Nay, let's follow him. [Exeunt. ^note Scene V. [Footnote: Another part ^note of the platform. Enter ^note Ghost and Hamlet.

Ham.
Whither ^note wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no further.

Ghost.
Mark me.

Ham.
I will.

Ghost.
My hour ^note 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 ^note serious hearing
To what I shall unfold. ^note

Ham.
Speak; I am bound to hear. ^note

Ghost.
So art thou to revenge, when ^note thou shalt hear.

Ham.
What? ^note

Ghost.
I am thy father's spirit;
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,
And for ^note the day confined ^note to fast in ^note fires,
Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
Are burnt and purged away. But that I am ^note 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 ^note and combined locks to part
And each particular hair to stand an end ^note,
Like quills upon the fretful ^note porpentine ^note:
But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood. List, list ^note, O, list!
If thou didst ever thy dear father love— ^note

Ham.
O God ^note!

Ghost.
Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

Ham.
Murder! ^note

Ghost.
Murder most ^note foul, as in ^note the best it is,
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.

Ham.
Haste me ^note to know't ^note, that I ^note, with wings as swift ^note
As meditation ^note or the thoughts of love,
May sweep ^note to my revenge.

Ghost.
I find thee apt;
And duller shouldst ^note thou be than the fat weed
That roots ^note itself in ease on Lethe ^note wharf, ^note
Wouldst ^note thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:
'Tis ^note given out that, sleeping in my ^note orchard ^note,
A serpent stung me; so ^note the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process of my death
Rankly abused: but know, thou ^note noble youth,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life ^note
Now wears his crown.

Ham.
O my prophetic soul!
My ^note uncle! ^{note note}

Ghost.
Ay, ^note that incestuous, that adulterate ^note beast,
With witchcraft ^note of his wit ^note, with ^note traitorous gifts,— ^note

O wicked wit ^note and gifts, that have the power
So to seduce!—won to his ^note shameful lust
The will of my most seeming-virtuous ^note queen:
O Hamlet, what a ^note 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 ^note decline
Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor
To those of mine! ^note
But virtue, as it never will be moved, ^note
Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven,
So lust, ^note though to a radiant angel ^note link'd,
Will sate ^note itself in a celestial bed
And prey ^note on ^note garbage. ^note
But, soft! methinks I scent ^note the morning ^note air;
Brief let me be. Sleeping within my ^note orchard ^note,
My custom always of ^note the afternoon,
Upon my secure ^note hour thy uncle stole ^note,
With juice of cursed hebenon ^note in a vial ^note,
And in the porches of my ^note ears did pour
The leperous distilment; whose effect
Holds ^note such an enmity with blood of man
That swift as quicksilver it courses through
The natural gates and alleys ^note of the body;

And with a sudden vigour ^note it doth posset ^note
And curd, like eager ^note droppings into milk,
The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine;
And a most instant tetter bark'd ^note 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 ^note, at once dispatch'd ^note:
Cut off even in the blossoms ^note of my sin,
Unhousel'd ^note, disappointed ^note, unanel'd ^note;
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all ^note my imperfections on my head: ^note
O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
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 ^note thou pursuest ^note this act,
Taint ^note not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive ^note
Against thy mother aught: leave her to heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!
The glow-worm shows the matin ^note to be near,
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire:
Adieu, adieu, adieu! ^note remember me. [Exit. ^note

Ham.
O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else?

And shall I couple hell? O, fie! Hold, hold, my ^{note note} heart;
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me stiffly ^note up. Remember thee!
Ay, thou poor ghost, while ^note memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe. Remember thee! ^note
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
All saws ^note of books, all forms, all pressures ^note 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 ^note, by heaven!
O most pernicious ^note woman!
O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
My tables,— ^notemeet it is I set it ^note down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least I'm ^note sure it may be so in Denmark. [Writing. ^note
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word;
It is ^note ‘Adieu, adieu! remember me.’
I have sworn't. ^{note note note note}

Hor. Mar. [Within] ^note
My lord, my lord! Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Mar.
Lord Hamlet!

Hor.
Heaven ^note secure him!

Ham. ^note
So be it!

Mar. ^note
Illo, ho, ho, my lord!

Ham.
Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, ^note come.

Mar.
How is't, my noble lord? ^note

Hor.
What news, my lord?

Ham. ^note
O, wonderful!

Hor.
Good my lord, tell it.

Ham.
No; you will ^note reveal it.

Hor.
Not I, my lord, by heaven.

Mar.
Nor I, my lord.

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

Hor. Mar. ^note
Ay, by heaven, my lord. ^note

Ham.
There's ne'er ^note a villain dwelling in all Denmark ^note
But ^{note note} he's an arrant knave.

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

Ham.
Why, right; you are i' the ^note right;
And so, without more circumstance at all,
I hold it fit that we shake hands and part:
You, as your business and desire ^note shall point you;
For every man hath ^note business and desire,

Such as it is; and for my ^note own poor part,
Look you, I'll ^note go pray.

Hor.
These are but wild and whirling ^note words, my lord.

Ham.
I'm ^note sorry they offend ^note you, heartily;
Yes, faith, ^note heartily.

Hor.
There's no offence, my lord.

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

Hor.
What is't, my lord? we will ^note.

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

Hor. Mar. ^note
My lord, we will not.

Ham.
Nay, but swear't.

Hor.
In faith,
My lord, not I. ^note

Mar.
Nor I, my lord, in faith.

Ham.
Upon my sword.

Mar.
We have ^note sworn, my lord, already.

Ham.
Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. ^note

Ghost. [Beneath] ^note
Swear.

Ham.
Ah ^note, ha, boy! say'st thou so? ^note art thou there, true-penny?
Come on: you hear ^note this fellow in the cellarage: ^note
Consent to swear.

Hor.
Propose the oath ^note, my lord.

Ham.
Never to speak of this that you have seen, ^note
Swear by my sword.

Ghost. [Beneath] ^note
Swear.

Ham.
Hic ^note et ubique? ^note then we'll shift our ^note ground.
Come hither, gentlemen,
And lay your hands again upon my sword:
Never to speak of this that ^note you have heard, ^note
Swear by my sword.

Ghost. [Beneath] ^note
Swear. ^note

Ham.
Well said, old mole! canst ^note work i' the earth ^note so fast?
A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends ^{note note}.

Hor.
O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!

Ham.
And therefore as a stranger give ^note it welcome.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your ^note philosophy.
But come; ^note
Here ^{note note}, as before, never, so help you mercy,

How strange or odd soe'er ^note I bear myself,
As I perchance hereafter shall think meet ^note
To put an antic disposition on ^{note note},
That you, at such times ^note seeing me, never shall,
With arms encumber'd thus, or this head-shake ^note,
Or ^note by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,
As ‘Well, well ^note, we know,’ or ‘We could, an if we would,’
Or ‘If we list to speak,’ or ‘There be, an if ^note they ^note might,’
Or such ambiguous giving ^note out, to note ^{note note note}
That you know aught of me: this not to do,
So grace and mercy at your most need help you,
Swear. ^note

Ghost. [Beneath] ^note
Swear.

Ham.
Rest, rest, ^note perturbed spirit! [They swear.] ^note So, gentlemen,
With all my love I do ^note commend me to you:
And what so poor a man as Hamlet is
May do, to express his love and friending ^note to you,
God willing, shall not lack. ^note Let us go in ^note together ^note;

And still your fingers on your lips, I pray. ^note
The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,
That ever I was born to set ^note it right!
Nay, come, let's go together. [Exeunt.

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