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Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.
Mar. How is 't, my noble lord?
What news, my lord ?
Ham. 0, wonderful!
Good my lord, tell it.
You'll reveal it.
Hor. Not I, my lord, by heaven.
Nor I, my lord.
Ham. How say you, then; would heart of man once think
But you 'll be secret.
Hor. Mar. Ay, by heaven, my lord.
Ham. There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark, But he's an arrant knave.
Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave!
To tell us this.
Ham. Why, right; you are i’ 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,
I will go pray.
Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.
Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily; yes,
There's no offence, my lord.
54 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 't as you may. And now, good friends,
As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,
- Give me one poor request.
Hor. What is ’t my lord, we will.
Ham. Never make known what you have seen to - night.
Hor. Mar. My lord, we will not.
Nay, but swear't.
My lord, not I.
Nor I, my lord, in faith.
Ham. Upon my sword.
We have sworn, my lord, already.
Ham. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.
Ghost. [Cries under the stage.] Swear. I
Ham. Ha, ha, boy! say'st thou so? art thou there, true-. 55
you hear this fellow in the cellarage,
Consent to swear.
Propose the oath, my lord.
Ham. Never to speak of this that you have seen,
Swear by my sword.
Ham. Hic et ubique ? then, we'll shift our ground.
Come hither, gentlemen,
And lay your hands again upon my sword:
Never to speak of this that you have heard,
Swear by my sword.
Ham. Well said, old mole! can'st work i' the earth so fast?
A worthy pioner! 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
Or such ambiguous giving out, denote
That you know aught of me:
this not to do,
So grace and mercy at your most need help you,
Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So, gentlemen,
With all my love I do commend me to you:
And what so poor a m
May do, t'express his love and friending to you,
God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together;
And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.
The time is out of joint; O cursed spite!
That ever I was born to set it right.
Nay, come; let's go together. |
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.
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 't were, some distant knowledge of him;
“I know his father, and his friends, And, in part, him:” - do you mark this, Reynaldo? | 59 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 dishonour him: take heed of that;
But, Sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips,
As are companions noted and most known
To youth and liberty.
As gaming, my lord.
Pol. Ay, or drinking , fencing, swearing, quarrelling,
Drabbing: you may go so far.
Rey. My lord, that would dishonour him.
Pol. 'Faith, no; as you may season it in the charge.
You must not put an utter scandal on him,
That he is open to incontinency:
That 's not my meaning; but breathe his faults so quaintly,
That they may seem the taints of liberty ;
The flash and out - break of a fiery mind;
A savageness in unreclaimed blood,
Of general assault.
But, my good lord ,
Pol. Wherefore should you do this?
Ay, my lord,
I would know that.
Marry, Sir, here 's my drift;
And, I believe, it is a fetch of wit.
You laying these slight sullies on my son,
As 't were a thing a little soil'd i' the working,
Your party in converse, him you would sound,
Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes
The youth you breathe of guilty, be assur'd,
He closes with you in this consequence :
“Good Sir,” or so; or “friend, or “gentleman,"
According to the phrase, or the addition,
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,
About to say something : where did I leave?
Rey. At closes in the consequence.
Pol. At, closes in the consequence, ay, marry ;
He closes thus: — "I know the gentleman;
I saw him yesterday, or t'other day,
Or then, or then: with such, or such; and, as you say,
There was he gaming; there o’ertook in 's rouse;
There falling out at tennis: or perchance,
I saw him enter such a house of sale,
Videlicet, a brothel ” or so forth. |
See you now;
Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth:
And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,
With windlaces, and with assays of bias,
By indirections find directions out:
So, by my former lecture and advice,
Shall you my son.
You have me,
Rey. My lord, I have.
God be wi' you; fare you well.
Rey. Good my lord.
Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself.
Rey. I shall, my lord.
Pol. And let him ply his music.
Well, my lord. [Exit.
Farewell! How now, Ophelia? what 's the matter?
Oph. O my lord, my lord! I have been so affrighted!
Pol. With what, in the name of God? | 63
Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,
Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd;
No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd,
Ungarter'd, and down - gyred to his ancle ;
Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other;
And with a look so piteous in purport,
As if he had been loosed out of hell,
To speak of horrors, he comes before me.
Pol. Mad for thy love?
My lord, I do not know;
But, truly, I do fear it.
What said he?
Oph. He took me by the wrist, and held me hard ;
Then goes he to the length of all his arm,
And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,
He falls to such perusal of my face,
As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so: 1 64 At last, a little shaking of mine arm,
And thrice his head thus waving up and down,
He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound,
That it did seem to shatter all his bulk,
And end his being. That done, he lets me go,
And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,
He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;
For out o’ doors he went without their help,
And to the last bended their light on me.
Pol. Come, go with me: I will go. seek the king.
This is the very ecstasy of love;
Whose violent property fordoes itself,
And leads the will to desperate undertakings,