Нат. In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Where,

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 attent5 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 waist and middle of the night, Been thus encounter'd, A figure like your father, Armed at point, 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 me
In dreadful secresy 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.

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 honor. Ham. Your loves, as mine to you: Farewell. [Exeunt HoR., MAR., and BEB 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.

SCENE III-A Room in Polonius's 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 favor, 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,7 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,9 doth besmirch1 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 force of Denmark goes withal.
Then weigh what loss your honor may sustain,
If with too credent2 ear you lists 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.5

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: There, my blessing with
you; [Laying his Hand on LAERTES Head.
And these few precepts in thy memory

• Subtlety, deceit

Liten to.

Regards no his crn lesson

SCENE IV.-The Platform.

Look thou character.6 Give thy thoughts no tongue,
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 with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, untledg'd comrade. Beware
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

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;

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.

Mar. No, it is struck.

And they in France of the best rank and station,
Are most select and generous,8 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.2

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!

[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 on you: and you yourself
Have of your audience been most free and boun-

teous:

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 honor:
What is between you? give me up the truth.
Oph. He hath.my lord, of late, made many tenders
Of his affection to me.

Pol. Affection? Puh! you speak like a green girl,
Unsifted3 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 importun'd me with love
In honorable fashion.

Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.
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 to command a parley. For lord Hamlet,
Believe so much in him, That he is young;
And with a larger tether may he walk,
Than 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.

•Write.

• Infil. Implorers.

• Opinion. Wait

[Exeunt.

[A Flourish of Trumpets, and Ordnance sho 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.

Ham. Ay, marry, is't:

Is it a custom?

But to my mind, though I am native here,
And to the manner born,-it is a custom
More honor'd in the breach, than the observance.
This heavy-headed revel, east and west,
Makes us traduced and tax'd of other nations:
They clepel 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,2
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason;
Or, by some habit, that too much o'er-leavens
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 dout,3
To his own scandal.

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,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws.
Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd,
To cast thee up again! What may this mean,
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel
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.

Jovial draught. 1 Call.

• Conversable.

• Jollity. • Humor • Value.

Ham.

Alas, poor ghost!

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 orchard,
My custom always of the afternoon,
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 vigor, 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,2 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 the blossoms of my sin,
Unhousel'd, disappointed, unaneled
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head:
O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
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 contrive
Against thy mother aught; leave her to heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,

To what I shall unfold.

Ghost. I am thy father's spirit ;

Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night;
And, for the day, contin'd 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 on end
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:
But this eternal blazon9 must not be

To ears of flesh and blood:-List, list, O list!-
If thou didst ever thy dear father love,-
Ham. O heaven!

Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his ineffectual fire:
Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me.
Ham. O all you host of heaven! O earth! What
else?

And shall I couple hell?-O fye!-Hold, hold, my heart;

And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me stiffly up!-Remember thee!
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe. Remember thee!
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
All sawss of books, all forms, all pressures past,
That youth and observation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven.
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.

• Display.

Sayings, sentences.

• Memorandus-book.

Swear by my sword.

Ghost. Beneath.] Swear.

Ham. Hic et ubique?2 then we'll shift ou ground:

Come hither, gentlemen,

To tell us this.

Ham. Why, right; you are 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 own poor part, Look you, I will go pray.

Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.

Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily; yes, 'Faith, heartily. Hor.

There's no offence, my lord. Ham. 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'er-master it as you may. And now, good friends, As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, Give me one poor request.

Hor.

We will.

What is't, my lord?

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 friends.

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

Ham. 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 you mercy!
How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself,
As I, 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-shake,
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, There be, an
if they might;-

Or such ambiguous giving out, to note
That you know aught of me;-This do you swear,
So grace and mercy at your most need help you!
Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear.

Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So, gentle.

SCENE I-A Room in Polonius's House.
Enter POLONIUS and REYNALDO.

Pol. Give him this money, and these notes, Reynaldo.

Rey. I will, my lord.

naldo,

Before you visit him, to make inquiry

Of his behavior.

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 they
keep,

What company, at what expense; and finding,
By this encompassment and drift of question,
That they do know my son, come you more nearer
Than your particular demands will touch it:
Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of
him;

As thus, I know his father, and his friends,
And, in part, him ;-Ďo you mark this, Reynaldo?
Rey. Ay, very well, my lord.

Pol. And, in part, him;-but, you may say, not

well:

But, if 't be he I mean, he's very wild;
Addicted so and so;-and there put on him
What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank
As may dishonor him; take heed of that:
But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips,
As are companions noted and most known
To youth and liberty.
Rey.

As gaming, my lord. 1 Danes.

But, my good lord,Pol. Wherefore should you do this? Rey.

Ay, my lord,

I would know that.
Pol.
Marry, sir, here's my drift;
And, I believe, it is a fetch of warrant:
You laying these slight sullies on my son,
As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' the working,
Mark you,

Your party in converse, him you would sound,
Having ever seen in the prenominate3 crimes,
The youth you breathe of, guilty, be assured,
He closes with you in this consequence;
Good sir, or so; or friend, or gentleman,—
According to the phrase, or the addition,
Of man, and country.
Rey.
Very good, my lord.
Pol. And then, sir, does he this,-He does-
What was I about to say?-By the mass, I was
about to say something:-Where did I leave?
Rey. At, closes in the consequence.