Plays and Poems

Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,
Which he stood seiz'd of, to the conqueror;
The bell then beating one, -
Against the which, a moiety competent
Mar. Peace! break thee off; look, where it Was gaged by our king; which had return'd
comes again !

Enter Ghost.

To the inheritance of Fortinbras,

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,
Horatio.

Hor. Most like; it harrows me with fear and
wonder.

Ber. It would be spoke to.
Mar.

Question it, Horatio.

Hor. What art thou that usurp'st this time
of night,

Together with that fair and war-like form
In which the majesty of buried Denmark

Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same
covenant

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 lawless resolutes,
For food and diet, to some enterprise
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 compulsative, 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

Did sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, Of this post-haste and romage in the land.
speak!
Mar. It is offended.

Ber.

See! it stalks away. 50
Hor. Stay! speak: speak, I charge thee, speak!
Exit Ghost.

Mar. "Tis gone, and will not answer.

101

Ber. I think it be no other but e'en so;
Well may it sort that this portentous figure
Comes armed through our watch, so like the king
That was and is the question of these wars. 111
Hor. A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
In the most high and palmy state of Rome,

Ber. How now, Horatio! you tremble and A little ere the mighty Julius fell,

look pale;

Is not this something more than fantasy?

What think you on't?

Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe Without the sensible and true avouch

The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets;
As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star
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
60 And prologue to the omen coming on,
Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
Unto our climatures and countrymen.

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 my 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 soretask
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?

But, soft! behold! lo! where it comes again.

Re-enter Ghost.

120

We do it wrong, being so majestical,
To offer it the show of violence;

For it is, as the air, invulnerable,

Exit Ghost.

And our vain blows malicious mockery.

Hamlet,

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

150

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,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long; 160
And then, they say, no spirit can walk 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? Mar. Let's do 't, I pray; and I this morning know

Where we shall find him most conveniently.

170

marriage,

To business with the king more than the scope
Of these delated 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.

Dread my lord, a 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

By laboursome petition, and at last
Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent:
I do beseech you, give him leave to go.
King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be
thine,

And thy best graces spend it at thy will.
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,-
Ham. Aside. A little more than kin, and less
than kind.

King. How is it that the clouds still hang
on you?

Ham. Not so, my lord; I am too much i' the

20 Why seems it so particular with thee? Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not

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 Fortinbras, 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 the 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 bonds 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 dispatch You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand, For bearers of this greeting to old Norway, Giving to you no further personal power

'seems.'

'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forc'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 woe.
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 | My father's brother, but no more like my father

In filial obligation for some term

To do obsequious sorrow; but to persever In obstinate condolement is a course

100

Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief;
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,
A heart unfortified, a 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 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

110

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.
Hum. I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply: 121
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 heavens shall bruit

again,

Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.

Flourish. Exeunt KING, QUEEN, Lords, etc. POLONIUS, and LAERTES. Ham. O! that this too too solid flesh would melt,

Thaw and resolve itself into a dew;

130

Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!

How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable

Seem to me all the uses of this world.

Fie on't! ah 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,

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. Ol 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.

I am glad to see you well: 160 Horatio, or I do forget myself.

Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor ser

vant 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. To BER-
NARDO. 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, 170
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, fellowstudent;

I think it was to see my mother's wedding.
Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.
Ilam. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral
bak'd meats

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. O! where, my lord?
Нат.

180

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. llam. Saw who?

Hor. My lord, the king your father.
Ham.

190

The king my father!

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.

Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother 140 That he might not beteem 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

Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,

woman!

151

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

Let me not think on't: Frailty, thy name is Appears before them, and with solemn march

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 my
uncle,

200

Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,
In the dead vast and middle of the night,
Been thus encounter'd: a figure like your father,
Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe,

I would I had been there.

Hor. It would have much amaz'd vou.

Ham. Very like, very like. Stay'd it long?
Hor. While one with moderate haste might

tell a hundred.

Mar., Ber. Longer, longer.

Carve for himself, for on his choice depends
The safety and the health of the whole state;
And therefore must his choice be circumscribil
Unto the voice and yielding of that body
Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he

loves you,

If 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. His beard was grizzled? no? The chariest maid is prodigal enough Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life,

Hor. Not when I saw 't.
Ham.

A sable silver'd.

240

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. 250
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

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 less keep,

As watchman to my heart. But, good m
brother,

Do not, as some ungracions pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven,
Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own rede.

Laer.

O! fear me not.

BERNARDO. I stay too long; but here my father comes.

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.

shame!

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 own self 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.

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,

122

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
Than may be given you: in few, Ophelia,
Do not believe his vows, for they are brokers,
Not of that dye which their investments show,
But mere implorators of unholy suits,
Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds, 130
The better to beguile. This is for all:

I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
Have you so slander any moment 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.

Exeunt.

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

'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.

Or, not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, Running it thus, you 'll tender me a fool.

Oph. My lord, he hath importun'd me with love In honourable fashion.

110

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,

Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to. Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,

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