Had made his course to illume that part of heaven Where now it burns, Marcellus, and myself, The bell then beating one,

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

Enter Ghost.

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, Ho.

ratio.

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

That 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,
And terms compulsatory, 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 even so:
Well may it sort, that this portentous figure
Comes arined 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 palmy state of Rome,
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
The graves stood tenant less, and the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets.

As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,

speak.

Mar. It is offended. Ber.

See it stalks away.

Hor. Stay; speak: speak 1 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 fantasy? 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 the ambitious Norway combated:
So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle,
He smote the sledded Polack on the ice.
'Tis strange.

Mar. Thus, twice before, and jump at this dead hour,

With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch. Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not;

But, in the gross and scope of mine 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 subject 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 even but now appear'd to us,
Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride,
Dar'd to the combat; in which our valiant
Hamlet

(For so this side of our known world esteem'd him,)

Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a seal'd compact,

Well ratified by law and heraldry,

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; as, by the same comart,
And carriage of the article design'd,
His fell to Hamlet: Now, sir, young Fortinbras
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 enterprise

Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands,
Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse.
And even the like precurse of fierce events,-
As harbingers preceding still the fates,
And prologue to the omen coming on,
Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
Unto our climatures and countrymen.-
Re-enter Ghost.

But, soft; behold! lo, where it comes again!
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,
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,
O, 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, Marcel

lus.

Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partisan 7
Hor. Do, if it will not stand.
Ber.
Hor.

'Tis here! 'Tis here! [Exit Ghost.

Mar. "Tis gone! We do it wrong, being so majestical, To offer it the show 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, Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, The 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, This bird of dawning singeth all night long: And then they say no spirit dares stir abroad; The nights are wholesome: then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor 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 high 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 7

know Where we shall find him most convenient.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

The same. A Room of State in the same. Enter the King, 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 king. dom

To be contracted in one brow of wo;

Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature,
That we with wisest sorrow think on him,
Together with remembrance of ourselves."
Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
The 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 mar-
riage,

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 Fortin-

bras,

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 with this dream of his advantage,
He hath not fail'd to pester us with message,
Importing the surrender of those lands
Lost by his father, with 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 gait herein; in that the levies,
The lists, and full proportions, are all made
Out of his subject -and we here despatch
You, good Cornelius, and you, Volumand,
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 related articles allow.
Farewell; and let your haste commend your
duty.

Cor. Vol. In that, and all things, will we show
our duty.
King. We doubt it nothing; heartily farewell.
[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?
The head is not more native to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.
What would'st thou have, Laertes ?
Laer.

My dread 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
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, wrung from me my slow leave

Ham. Not so, my lord, I am too much i'the 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 vailed 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.
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 fore'd breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected haviour of the visage,
Together with all forms, modes, shows 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 show;
These, but the trappings and the suits of wo.
King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your
nature, Hamlet,

To give these mourning duties to your father:
But you must know your father lost a father;
That father lost, lost his; and the survivor bound
In filial obligation for some term
To do obsequious sorrow.
But to perserver
In obstinate condolement is a course
Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief:
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven;
A heart unfortified, or 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 heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason most absurd; whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first corse, till he that died to-day,
This must be so. We pray you, throw to earth
This unprevailing wo; and think of us
As of a father: for let the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our throne:
And with no less nobility of love,
Than that which dearest father bears his son,
Do I impart toward you. For your intent
In going back to school in 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 pray thee, 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;
Be as ourself in Denmark.-Madam, come;
This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof
No Jocund health, that Denmark drinks to-day,
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell;
And the king's rouse the heaven shall bruit again,
Respeaking earthly thunder. Come away.

[Exeunt King, Queen, Lords, &c. Polonins, and Laertes Ham. O, that this too too solid flesh would melt,

God!

A little month; or ere those shoes were old,
With which she follow'd my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears;-why she, even she,-
O heaven! a beast, that wants discourse of rea-
son,

Would have mourn'd longer,-married with my uncle,

My father's brother; but no more like my father,
Than I to Hercules: Within a month;
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married :- 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

Enter Horatio, Bernardo, and Marcellus.
Hor. Hail to your lordship!
Ham.

I am glad to see you well;
Horatio, or 1 do forget myself.
Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant

But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg ?
Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.
Kam 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.
But what is your affair in Elsinore ?
We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's
funeral.

Ham. I pray thee, 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

Ham. For God'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 encounter'd. A figure like your Armed at point, exactly, cap-a-pe, [father, Appears before them, and, with solemn march, Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes, Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, dis

till'd

This to me

Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
Stand dumb, and speak not to him.
In dreadtul secrecy impart they did;
And I wish then, 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 apparation comes; I knew your father;
These hands are not more like.
Ham.
But where was this?
Hor. My lord, upon the platform where we
watch'd.

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.

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

We do, my lord.

Ham. Arm'd, say you?
All.
Ham

All. My lord, from head to foot.
Ham.

His face.

Then saw you not

Hor. O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.
Ham. What, look'd he frowningly ?
Hor.

In sorrow than in anger.
Ham.

Hor. Nay, very pale.
Ham.

A countenance more

Pale, or red?

And fix'd 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,

Very like: Stay'd it long? Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.

Mar. Ber. Longer, longer. Hor. Not when I saw it. Ham. His beard was grizzl'd? no? Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, A sable silver'd.

Ham.

I will watch to-night;

Perchance, 'twill walk again.
Hor.
I warrant, 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,
Let it be tenable in your silence still;
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue;
I will requite your loves: So, fare you well:
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.

All.

Our duty to your honour. Ham. Your loves, as mine to you: Farewell. Exeunt Hor. Mar. and Ber.

SCENE III. A Room in Polonius' House.

Enter Laertes and Ophelia.

Laer. My necessaries are embark'd; farewell: 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, sweet, not lasting, The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more.

Oph. Laer.

No more but so?

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; And now no soil, nor cautel, doth besmirch 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 The safety and health of the whole state; And therefore must his choice be circumscribed Unto the voice and yielding of that body, Whereof he is the 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
May give his saying deed; which is no further,
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
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 keep you in 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 the effect of this good lesson keep,
As watchman to my heart; But,good my brother,
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own read.

Lear.

O fear me not.

I stay too long;-But here my father comes.

Enter Polonius.

A double blessing is a double grace; Occasion smiles upon a second leave.

But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Bo-

ware

Of entrance to a quarrel: but, being in,
Bear it that the opposer may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judg

ment.

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 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 ownself be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell; my blessing season this in thee!
Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my
lord.

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

Laer. Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well What I have said to you. Oph.

'Tis in my memory lock'd, And you yourself shall keep the key of it. Laer. Farewell. [Erit Laertes 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 boun

know,

shame;

The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
And your are staid for: There,-my blessing with
you; [Laying his Hand on Laertes' Head.
And these few precepts in thy memory
Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no
tongue,

Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.

The better to beguile. This is for all,-
I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
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 ways.
Oph. I shall obey, my lord.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The Platform. 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. Indeed? I heard it not; it then draws

near the season,

Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.
LA Flourish of Trumpets, and Ordnance
shot off, within.

What does this mean, my lord?
Ham. The king doth wake to-night, and takes

his rouse,

Keeps wassel, and the swaggering 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:-
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.
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 achievements, though perform'd at
height,

The 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 choose his origin,)
By the o'ergrowth of some complexion,
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason;
Or by some habit, that too much o'erleavens
The form of plausive manners;-that these

men

Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect;
Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,-
Their 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: The dram of base
Doth all the noble substance often doubt
To his own scaudal.

Hor.

Enter Ghost.

!

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 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: O, answer me:
Let me not burst in ignorance! but tell,
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,
Have burst their cerements! 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,
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideons; and we fools of nature,
So horribly to shake our disposition,
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
Say,why is this? wherefore? what should we do?

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

Look, with what courteous action It waves you to a more removed ground: But do not go with it. No, by no means.

what should be the sear

Hor. Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it. Hor. Do not, my lord. I do not set my life at a pin's fee; Ham. Why, And, for my soul, what can it do to that, It waves me forth again;-I'll follow it. Being a thing immortal as itself? Hor. What, if it tempt you toward 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 deprive your sovereignty of reason, And draw you into madness? think of it: The very place puts toys of desperation, That looks so may fathoms to the sea, Without more motive, into every brain, And hears it roar beneath. Ham.

It waves me stil.

Go on, I'll follow thee.
Mar. You shall not go, my lord.

Ham.

Hold off your hands.

Hor. 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.-

[Ghost beckons. Still am I call'd;-unhand me, gentlemen:[Breaking from them By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets

me;

Nay, let's follow him. [Exeunt.
SCENE V.

A more remote Part of the Platform.
Re-enter Ghost and Hamlet.

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

Ghost. Mark me.

Ham.

Ghost.

Ham.

I will.

My hour is almost come,

Alas, poor ghost!

Speak, I am bound to hear.

Ham. What?