HAMLET.
The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.

HORATIO.
It is a nipping and an eager air.

HAMLET.
What hour now?

HORATIO.
I think it lacks of twelve.

MARCELLUS.
No, it has struck.

HORATIO.
I heard it not. Then it draws near the season
Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.

Noise of warlike music within.
What does this mean my lord?

HAMLET.
The King doth wake tonight and takes his rouse,
And, as he takes his draughts of Rhenish down,
The kettledrum and trumpet thus proclaim
The triumph of his pledge.

HORATIO.
Is it a custom?

HAMLET.
Ah, marry is't:
But to my mind, though I am native here
And to the manner born, it is a custom
More honored in the breach than the observance. Enter Ghost.

HORATIO.
Look, my lord, where it comes!

HAMLET.
Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd,
Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
Be thy intents wicked or charitable,
Thou com'st in such a questionable shape
That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet,
King, Father, royal Dane. Oh, answer me!

Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell
Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death,
Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly interred,
Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws
To cast thee up again. What may this mean
That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel,
Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous? And we 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 Hamlet.

HORATIO.
It beckons you to go away with it,
As if it some impartment did desire
To you alone.

MARCELLUS.
Look with what courteous action
It waves you to a more removed ground.
But do not go with it!

HORATIO.
No, by no means! (Holding Hamlet.)

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

HORATIO.
Do not, my lord.

HAMLET.
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.

HORATIO.
What if it tempts you towards the flood, my lord,
Or to the dreadful border of the cliff,
And there assume some other horrible form
’Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason’
And draw you into madness.

HAMLET.
It waves me still.
Go on; I'll follow thee.

MARCELLUS.
You shall not go, my lord.

HAMLET.
Hold off your hands!

HORATIO.
Be ruled; you shall not go.

HAMLET.
My fate cries out
And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.
Still I am call'd. Unhand me, gentleman!
By heav'n, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!
I say, away! Go on; I'll follow thee. Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet.

HORATIO.
He grows desperate with imagination.

MARCELLUS.
Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.

HORATIO.
To what issue will this come?

MARCELLUS.
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

HORATIO.
Heaven will discover it.

MARCELLUS.
Nay, let's follow him. Exeunt. Enter Ghost and Hamlet.

HAMLET.
Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak; I'll go no further.

GHOST.
Mark me.

HAMLET.
I will.

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

HAMLET.
Alas, poor ghost!

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

HAMLET.
Speak; I am bound to hear.

GHOST.
So art thou to revenge what thou shalt hear.

HAMLET.
What?

GHOST.
I am thy father's spirit,
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,
And for the day confined to fast in fires,
Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
Are burnt and purged 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 an 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 didst ever thy dear father love—

HAMLET.
O Heaven!

GHOST.
Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

HAMLET.
Murder?

GHOST.
Murder most foul, as in the best it is;
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.

HAMLET.
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;
’And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
’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 garden,
A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process of my death
Rankly abused; but know, thou noble youth,
The serpent that did sting thy father's heart
Now wears his crown.

HAMLET.
O my prophetic soul!
My uncle?

GHOST.
Ay, that incestuous, that adult'rate beast,
’With witchcraft of his wits, with trait'rous gifts—
’O wicked wits and gifts, that have the power
’So to seduce!’ won to his shameful lust
The will of my most seeming virtuous queen.
’O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there,
’From me, whose love was of that dignity
’That it went hand in hand even with the vow
’I made to her in marriage, and to decline
’Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor
’To those of mine!
’But virtue, as it never will be moved,
’Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven,
’So vice, though to a radiant angel linked,
’Will sort itself in a celestial bed
’And prey on garbage.’
But soft! methinks I scent the morning air;
Brief let me be. Sleeping within my garden,
My custom always of the afternoon,
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of cursed hebona in a vial,

And in the porches of my ears did pour
The leprous distilment, whose effects
Hold such an enmity with blood of man
That swift as quicksilver it courses through
The natural gates and alleys of the body,
And with sudden vigor does possess
’And curd, like eager droppings into milk,’
The thin and wholesome blood; so did it mine,
And a most instant tetter barked 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 at once bereft;
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
’Unhouseled, unappointed, unaneal'd,’
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head.

HAMLET.
O, horrible! O 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 pursuest this act,
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul design
Against thy mother aught. Leave her to heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge
To gord and sting her. Fare thee well at once!
The glow-worm shows the morning to be near
And gins to pale his uneffectual fire.
Farewell; remember me! Exit.

HAMLET.
’O all you host of heaven!’ Hold, 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?
Yes, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
All registers 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.
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 “Farewell, remember me.”
I have sworn't.

HORATIO (within).
My lord, my lord!

MARCELLUS (within).
Lord Hamlet!

HORATIO (within).
Heaven secure him!

HAMLET.
So be it!

HORATIO (within).
HIllo, ho, ho, my lord!

HAMLET.
Hillo, ho, ho, boy! Come, boy, come. Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

MARCELLUS.
How is't, my noble lord?

HAMLET.
O, wonderful!

HORATIO.
Good my lord, tell it.

HAMLET.
No, you'll reveal it.

HORATIO.
Not I, my lord.

MARCELLUS.
Not I, my lord.

HAMLET.
How say you then? Would heart of man once think it?
But you'll be secret.

BOTH.
As death, my lord.

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

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

HAMLET.
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 desire shall point you:
For every man hath business and desire,
Such as it is; and for my poor part,
I will go pray.

HORATIO.
These are but wild and windy words, my lord.

HAMLET.
I'm sorry they offend you, heartily;
’Yes, faith, heartily.’

HORATIO.
There's no offence, my lord.

HAMLET.
Yes, by Saint 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'ermaster't as you may. And now, good friends,
As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,
Grant me one poor request.

HORATIO.
What is't, my lord? We will.

HAMLET.
Never make known what you have seen tonight.

BOTH.
My lord, we will not.

HAMLET.
Nay, but swear't.

HORATIO.
In faith,
My lord, not I.

MARCELLUS.
Nor I, my lord, in faith.

HAMLET.
Upon my sword.

GHOST.
Swear. (Ghost cries under the stage.)

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

HAMLET.
And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. But come!
Here, as before, never, so help your mercy,
How strange or odd so'er I bear myself
(As I perchance hereafter shall think meet
To put an antic disposition on),
That you at such times seeing me, ne'er shall,
With arms encumber'd thus, or head thus shak'd,
Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,

As “Well, well, we know,” or “We could, and if we would,”
Or such ambiguous giving out, to note
That you know aught of me—this you must swear.

GHOST.
Swear.

HAMLET.
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. O cursed spite
That ever I was born to set it right! Exeunt.

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