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 what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?
Marcellus!—

Mar.
My good lord—

Ham.
I am very glad to see you; good even, Sir.
But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?

Hor.
A truant disposition, good my lord.

Ham.
I would not ^{c note}hear your enemy say so;
Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
To make it truster of your own report
Against your self. I know you are no truant;
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 dearest 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.

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

Ham.
Saw! who?—

Hor.
My lord, the King your father.

Ham.
The King my father!

Hor.
Season your admiration for 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 waste and middle of the night,
Been thus encountred. A figure like your father,
Arm'd at all points exactly, Cap-a-pe,
Appears before them, and with solemn march
Goes slow and stately by them; thrice he walk'd,
By their opprest and fear-surprized eyes,
Within his truncheon's length; whilst they (distill'd
Almost to jelly with the act of fear)
Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secrecy 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
It self 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 vanisht 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.

Ham.
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.

All.
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, tho' hell it self should gape
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight;
Let it be ^{d note}treble in your silence still:
And whatsoever shall befall 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 love, 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 mens eyes. [Exit.

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