But, you must know, your father lost a father;
That father lost his; and the survivor bound
In filial obligation, for some term
To do obsequious sorrow: But to persever
In obstinate condolement, is a course
Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmauly 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 com-
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 woe; 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, na-
dam.
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 t the heaven shall bruit
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.
[Exeunt KING, QUEEN, Lords, &c. POLONIUS, and LAERTES.
Iam. Oh! that this too too solid flesh would
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter!-O God! O
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
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
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
'Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio !-
My father, Methinks, I see my father.
Hor. Where,
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 attentear; 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 gentle-
men,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,
In the dead waist and middle of the night,
Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,
Armed at point, exactly, cap-a-pé,
Appears before them, and, with solemn march,
Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he
walk'd
By their oppress'd 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
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?
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
• It was anciently the custom to give a co J entertain ment at a funeral.
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 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 further,
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
Then weigh what loss your honour may sus-
tain,
If with too credentear you list 5 his songs;
Hor. O yes, my lord; he wore his beaver Or lose your heart or your chaste treasure open
Ham. What, look'd he 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 amaz'd you.
Ham. Very like,
Very like Stay'd it long?
To bis 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 imniinent.
Be wary then: best safety lies in fear;
Hor. While one with moderate haste might Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
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.
Oph. I shall the effect of this good lesson
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 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.
Enter POLONIUS.
A double blessing is a double grace;
Occasion smiles upon a second leave.
Pol. Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for
shame ;
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
And you are staid for: (n) There,-my blessing
with you;
[Laying his Hand on LAERTES' Head. And these few precepts in thy memory
[Exeunt HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BER-Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no
Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of
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 thews, and bulk; but, as this temple waxes,
The inward service of the mind and soul
Grows wide withal. Perhaps, he loves you now;
• That sart of the helmet which may be lifted up.
ncreasing.
* Sinews.
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel;
But do not dull thy palm 5 with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Be-
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 humble 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 memory lock'd,
And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
[Exit 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
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.
Oph. He hath, my lord, of late, made many
Of his affection to me.
[tenders
Pol. Affection? puh! you speak like a green
girl,
Unsifted 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 teach you think yourself a baby;
That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay, Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly;
Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,
Wronging it thus,) you'll tender me a fool.
Oph. My lord he hath impórtun'd me with love,
In honourable fashion. §
Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go
Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,
With almost all the holy vows of heaven.
Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know,
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter,
Giving more light than heat,--extinct in both,
Even in their promise, as it is a making,-
You must not take for fire. From this time,
Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence;
Set your entreatments at a higher rate,
Than a command to parley. For lord Hamlet,
Believe so much in him, That he is young;
And with a larger tether¶ may he walk,
Then may be given you: In few, Ophelia,
Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers, **
Not of that die which their investments show,
But mere implorators ++ of unholy suits,
Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds,
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.
SCENE IV.-The Platform.
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 mode 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 rea-
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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 marbie 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 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?
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.
Hor. No, by no means.
Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it. Hor. Do not, my lord.
Ham. Why, what should be the fear?
I do not set my life at a pin's fee ; §j
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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.
As meditation, or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.
Ghost. I find thee apt;
Her. What if it tempt you toward the flood, And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed 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,
Without more motive, into every brain,
That looks so many fathoms to the sea,
And hears it roar beneath.
Ham. It waves me still :-
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 Némean 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 t I say, away :-Go on, I'll follow thee. [me :[Exeunt GHOST and HAMLET. Hor. He waxes desperate with immagination. 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
Denmark.
Hor. Heaven will direct it.
Mar. Nay, let's follow him.
When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames
Must render up myself.
Ham. Alas, poor ghost!
That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf. [hear:
Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now Hamlet,
'Tis given out, that, sleeping in mine orchard,
A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Den-
Is by a forged process of my death [mark
Rankly abus'd: but know, thou noble youth,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life,
Now wears his crown.
Ham. O my prophetic soul! my uncle!
Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate
With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,
(O wicked wit, 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 mov'd,
Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven;
So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,
Will sate itself in a celestial bed,
And prey on garbage.
But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air;
Brief let me be:-Sleeping within mine or-
My custom always of the afternoon, [chard,
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
The leperous distilment; whose effect
Holds such an enmity with blood of man,
That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through
The natural gates and alleys of the body;
And, with a sudden vigour, it doth posset
And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine,
And a most instant tetter § bark'd 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 despatch'd: ¶
Cut off even in blossoms of my sin,
Unhousel'd, ** unanointed, unanel'd : +
Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious No reckoning made, but sent to my account
To what I shall unfold.
Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear.
With all my imperfections on my head:
O horrible! O horrible! most horrible !(n)
If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;
Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
Ghost. I am thy father's spirit;
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night;
And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires, (n)
Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature,
Are burn'd and purg'd away. But that I am
To tell the secrets of my prison-house, [forbid
I could a tale unfoid, whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young
blood;
[spheres ;
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:
But this eternal blazon § must not be
To ears of flesh and blood:-List, list, oh! list-
If thou didst ever thy dear father love,-
Ham. O beaven!
Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.
Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is; But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. Ham. Haste me to know it; that I, with wings as swift
• Garden. + Satiate. ↑ Henbane Scab, scurf. Leprous. Bereft. Without having received the sacrament. tt Without extreme unction. tt Head.
$ Sayings, sentences., (a) This line seems with most propriety to belong to (a) This is a Romish purgatory, though the Danes Hamlet, and in all modern representations is spoken by were then Pagans.
That youth an inservation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heav'n I
O most pernicious woman!
O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
My tables, meet it is, I set it down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least, I am sure, it may be so in Denmark:
[Writing.
So, uncle, there vou are. Now to my word:
It is, Adieu, adieu! remember me.
Hor. [Within.] My lord, my lord,--Mar. [Within.] Lord Hamlet,
Hor. Within.] Heaven secure him!
Mar. [Within.] Illo, ho, ho, my lord! Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come.
Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.
Mar. How is't, my noble lord ?
Hor. Good my lord, tell it.
Hor. Not 1, my lord, by heaven.
Mar. Nor I, my lord.
And lay your hands again upon my sword:
Swear by my sword,
Never to speak of this that you have heard.
Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear by his sword.
Ham. Well said, old mole! canst work i'the
earth so fast?
A worthy pioneer !-Once more remove, good
Hor. O day and night, but this is wondrous
Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
Here, as before, never, so help you mercy!
How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself,
As 1, perchance, hereafter shall think meet
To put an antic disposition on,-
That you, at such times seeing me, never shall,
With arms encumber'd thus, or this head-
Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,
As, Well, well, we know ;-or, We could, an
if we would;-or, If we list to speak;-or,
Ham. How say you then; would heart of There be, and if they might;
man once think it ?
But you'll be secret,-
Hor. Mar. Ay, by heaven my lord.
Or such ambiguous giving out to note
That you know aught of me :-This do you
swear,
[you!
Ham. There's ne'er a villain, dwelling in all So grace and mercy at vour most need belp
Denmark,
SCENE 1.-A Room in POLONIUS' House.
Enter POLONIUS and REYNALDO.
Pol. Give him this money, and these notes,
Reynaldo.
Rey. I will, my lord.
Pol. You shall do marvellous wisely, good
Reynaldo,
Before you visit him, to make inquiry
Of his behaviour.
Rey. My lord, I did intend it.
Pol. Marry, well said: very well said. Look you, Sir,
Inquire me first what Danskers + are in Paris; And how, and who, what means, and where
What company, at what expense; and finding, By this encompassment and drift of question, That they do know my son, come you more
Than your particular demands will touch it:
Take you, as 'twere, some distaut knowledge of
him;
Ham. Ha, ha, boy! say'st thou so? art thou As thus,-I know his father, and his friends,
Come on --you hear this fellow in the cellar-And, in part him :-Do you mark this, Rey.
Rey. Ay, very well, my lord.
Pol. And, in part, him;—but, you may say not well:
But, if't be he 1 mean, he's very wild; Addicted so and so;-and there put on him
|