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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,
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.

[Exeunt all except HAMLET. Ham. O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!

Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd

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! O 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:
So excellent a king; that was, to this,

Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother,
That he might not between the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,
As if increase of appetite had grown

By what it fed on: and yet, within a month,

Let me not think on 't,-Frailty, thy name is woman !—
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 God! 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,

Than I to Hercules: within a month;

Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her gallèd eyes,

She married:-O, 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, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO.
Hor. Hail to your lordship!

Ham.

Horatio, or I do forget myself.

I am glad to see you well:

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 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 meats
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven

Ere I had ever seen that day, Horatio!

My father, methinks I see my father.

Hor. O, 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.

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Hor. Season your admiration for a while

With an attent ear; till I may deliver,

Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.

Ham.

For God'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 oppress'd and fear-surprised 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 ine

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 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?

Mar. Ber.

We do, my lord.

Ham. Arm'd, say you?

Mar. Ber.

Arm'd, my lord.

Ham.

From top to toe?

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

Ham. Then, saw you not his face?

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

Ham. What, look'd he frowningly?

Hor.

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A countenance more

Pale, or red?

And fix'd his eyes upon you?

I would I had been there.

Very like,

Hor. It would have much amaz'd you.

Ham.

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 grizzled,—no?

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

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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 HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO.

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,

Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. [Exit.

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 doubt that?
you

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. No more but so?

Laer.

Think it no more:

For nature, crescent, does not grow alone
In thewes 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 unvalu'd persons do,
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
The safety and the health of the whole state;
And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd
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 farther
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 th' 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.

Laer.

O, fear me not.

I stay too long:-but here my father comes.
A double blessing is a double grace;
Occasion smiles upon a second leave.

Enter POLONIUS.

Pol. Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame! The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,

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