And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, All. Our duty to your honor. 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! SCENE III.-A Room in Polonius' House. Laer. My necessaries are embark'd; farewell: Pray let me hear from you. Óph. Do you doubt that? Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favor, Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood; For he himself is subject to his birth: Then weigh what loss your honor may sustain, Oph. I shall the effect of this good lesson keep, I stay too long;-But here my father comes. Enter POLONIUS. Pol. Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame; [Exit. 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 Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. But not express'a in fancy: rich, not gaudy: For the apparel oft proclaims the man; And they in France, of the best rank and station, Oph. And 'Tis in my memory lock'd, you yourself shall keep the key of it. Laer. Farewell. SCENE IV.-The Platform. 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. I think, it lacks of twelve. Hor. Indeed? I heard it not; then it draws near the season, Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. [A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot off, within. What does this mean, my lord? Ham. The king doth wake to-night, and takes his rouse, And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out 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. Enter Ghost. Hor. Look, my lord, it comes! Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us! · Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, That I will speak to thee; I'll call thee Hamlet, With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? As if it some impartment did desire To you alone. Mar. It waves you to a more removed ground: Look, with what courteous action No, by no means. But do not go with it. Hor. Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it. Ham. Why, what should be the tear I do not set my life at a pin's fee; And, for my soul, what can it do to that, It waves me forth again;-I'll follow it. Hor. What, if it tempt you toward the flood, 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, And draw you into madness? [Breaking from them. By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me :- [Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET SCENE V.-A more remote Part of the Platform. Re-enter Ghost and HAMLET. Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? speak, I'll go no further Ghost. Mark me. Alas, poor ghost! Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing To what I shall unfold. Ham. Speak, I am bound to`hear. Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear. Ham. What? 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, Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood; And each particular hair to stand on end, But this eternal blazon 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 Ham. 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 I find thee apt; As meditation, or the thoughts of love, May sweep to my revenge. Ghost. And duller should'st thou be than the fat weed That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, Would'st thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear: A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark Rankly abus'd: but know, thou noble youth, Ham. O, my prophetic soul! my uncle! With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts, The will of my most seeming virtuous queen: But, soft! methinks, I scent the morning air; Ham. O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible |