Hamlet

Marcellus. [with Bernardo] We do, my lord.

Hamlet. Arm'd, say you?

Marcellus. [with Bernardo] Arm'd, my lord. 440

Hamlet. From top to toe?

Marcellus. [with Bernardo] My lord, from head to foot.

Hamlet. Then saw you not his face?

Horatio. O, yes, my lord! He wore his beaver up.

Hamlet. What, look'd he frowningly. 445

Horatio. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.

Hamlet. Pale or red?

Horatio. Nay, very pale.

Hamlet. And fix'd his eyes upon you?

Horatio. Most constantly. 450

Hamlet. I would I had been there.

Horatio. It would have much amaz'd you.

Hamlet. Very like, very like. Stay'd it long?

Horatio. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.

Marcellus. [with Bernardo] Longer, longer. 455

Horatio. Not when I saw't.

Hamlet. His beard was grizzled- no?

Horatio. It was, as I have seen it in his life,

A sable silver'd.

Hamlet. I will watch to-night. 460

Perchance 'twill walk again.

Horatio. I warr'nt it will.

Hamlet. 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, 465

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. 470

Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,

I'll visit you.

All. Our duty to your honour.

Hamlet. Your loves, as mine to you. Farewell.

[Exeunt [all but Hamlet].] 475

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.

Act I, Scene 3.

Elsinore. A room in the house of Polonius.

Enter Laertes and Ophelia.

Laertes. 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. 485

Ophelia. Do you doubt that?

Laertes. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,

Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;

A violet in the youth of primy nature,

Forward, not permanent- sweet, not lasting; 490

The perfume and suppliance of a minute;

No more.

Ophelia. No more but so?

Laertes. Think it no more.

For nature crescent does not grow alone 495

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 doth besmirch

The virtue of his will; but you must fear, 500

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 health of this whole state, 505

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 510

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 515

To his unmast'red 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 520

If she unmask her beauty to the moon.

Virtue itself scopes 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 525

Contagious blastments are most imminent.

Be wary then; best safety lies in fear.

Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

Ophelia. I shall th' effect of this good lesson keep

As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother, 530

Do not as some ungracious 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. 535

Laertes. O, fear me not!

[Enter Polonius. ]

I stay too long. But here my father comes.

A double blessing is a double grace;

Occasion smiles upon a second leave. 540

Polonius. Yet here, Laertes? Aboard, aboard, for shame!

The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,

And you are stay'd for. There- my blessing with thee!

And these few precepts in thy memory

Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, 545

Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.

Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar:

Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,

Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel;

But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 550

Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware

Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,

Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee.

Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice;

Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. 555

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. 560

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, 565

Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Farewell. My blessing season this in thee!

Laertes. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.

Polonius. The time invites you. Go, your servants tend.

Laertes. Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well 570

What I have said to you.

Ophelia. 'Tis in my memory lock'd,

And you yourself shall keep the key of it.

Laertes. Farewell. Exit.

Polonius. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you? 575

Ophelia. So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.

Polonius. 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. 580

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 behooves my daughter and your honour.

What is between you? Give me up the truth. 585

Ophelia. He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders

Of his affection to me.

Polonius. Affection? Pooh! You speak like a green girl,

Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.

Do you believe his tenders, as you call them? 590

Ophelia. I do not know, my lord, what I should think,

Polonius. Marry, I will 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, 595

Running it thus) you'll tender me a fool.

Ophelia. My lord, he hath importun'd me with love

In honourable fashion.

Polonius. Ay, fashion you may call it. Go to, go to!

Ophelia. And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, 600

With almost all the holy vows of heaven.

Polonius. 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 605

Even in their promise, as it is a-making,

You must not take for fire. From this time

Be something scanter of your maiden presence.

Set your entreatments at a higher rate

Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet, 610

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, 615

But mere implorators of unholy suits,

Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds,

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 620

As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet.

Look to't, I charge you. Come your ways.

Ophelia. I shall obey, my lord.

Exeunt.

Act I, Scene 4.

Elsinore. The platform before the Castle.

Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus.

Hamlet. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.

Horatio. It is a nipping and an eager air.

Hamlet. What hour now?

Horatio. I think it lacks of twelve.

Marcellus. No, it is struck. 630

Horatio. Indeed? I heard it not. It then draws near the season

Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.

[A flourish of trumpets, and two pieces go off.]

What does this mean, my lord?

Hamlet. The King doth wake to-night and takes his rouse, 635

Keeps wassail, and the swagg'ring upspring reels,

And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,

The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out

The triumph of his pledge.

Horatio. Is it a custom? 640

Hamlet. Ay, marry, is't;

But to my mind, though I am native here

And to the manner born, it is a custom

More honour'd in the breach than the observance.

This heavy-headed revel east and west 645

Makes us traduc'd and tax'd of other nations;

They clip 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. 650

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, 655

Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason,

Or by some habit that too much o'erleavens

The form of plausive manners, that these men

Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,

Being nature's livery, or fortune's star, 660

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 e'il

Doth all the noble substance often dout To his own scandal. 665

Enter Ghost.

Horatio. Look, my lord, it comes!

Hamlet. 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, 670

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 675

Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,

Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre

Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd,

Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws

To cast thee up again. What may this mean 680

That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel,

Revisits 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? 685

Say, why is this? wherefore? What should we do?

Ghost beckons Hamlet.

Horatio. It beckons you to go away with it,

As if it some impartment did desire

To you alone. 690

Marcellus. Look with what courteous action

It waves you to a more removed ground.

But do not go with it!

Horatio. No, by no means!

Hamlet. It will not speak. Then will I follow it. 695

Horatio. Do not, my lord!

Hamlet. Why, what should be the fear?

I do not set my life at a pin's fee;

And for my soul, what can it do to that,

Being a thing immortal as itself? 700

It waves me forth again. I'll follow it.

Horatio. 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 705

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 fadoms to the sea 710

And hears it roar beneath.

Hamlet. It waves me still.

Go on. I'll follow thee.

Marcellus. You shall not go, my lord.

Hamlet. Hold off your hands! 715

Horatio. Be rul'd. You shall not go.

Hamlet. My fate cries out

And makes each petty artire in this body

As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.

[Ghost beckons.] 720

Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen.

By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me! —

I say, away! – Go on. I'll follow thee.

Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet.

Horatio. He waxes desperate with imagination. 725

Marcellus. Let's follow. 'Tis not fit thus to obey him.

Horatio. Have after. To what issue will this come?

Marcellus. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

Horatio. Heaven will direct it.

Marcellus. Nay, let's follow him. 730

Exeunt.

Act I, Scene 5.

Elsinore. The Castle. Another part of the fortifications.

Enter Ghost and Hamlet.

Hamlet. Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak! I'll go no further.

Father's Ghost. Mark me.

Hamlet. I will. 735

Father's Ghost. My hour is almost come,

When I to sulph'rous and tormenting flames

Must render up myself.

Hamlet. Alas, poor ghost!

Father's Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing 740

To what I shall unfold.

Hamlet. Speak. I am bound to hear.

Father's Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.

Hamlet. What?

Father's Ghost. I am thy father's spirit, 745

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

To tell the secrets of my prison house, 750

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 755

Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.

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-

Hamlet. O God! 760

Father's Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murther.

Hamlet. Murther?

Father's Ghost. Murther most foul, as in the best it is;

But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.

Hamlet. Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift 765

As meditation or the thoughts of love,

May sweep to my revenge.

Father's Ghost. I find thee apt;

And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed

That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, 770

Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear.

'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,

A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark

Is by a forged process of my death

Rankly abus'd. But know, thou noble youth, 775

The serpent that did sting thy father's life

Now wears his crown.

Hamlet. O my prophetic soul!

My uncle?

Father's Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, 780

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, 785

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! 790

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. 795

But soft! methinks I scent the morning air.

Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard,

My custom always of the afternoon,

Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,

With juice of cursed hebona in a vial, 800

And in the porches of my 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, 805

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 810

All my smooth body.

Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand

Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd;

Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,

Unhous'led, disappointed, unanel'd, 815

No reckoning made, but sent to my account

With all my imperfections on my head.

Hamlet. O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!

Father's Ghost. If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not.

Let not the royal bed of Denmark be 820

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 825

To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once.

The glowworm shows the matin to be near

And gins to pale his uneffectual fire.

Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me. Exit.

Hamlet. O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else? 830

And shall I couple hell? 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? 835

Yea, from the table of my memory

I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,

All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past

That youth and observation copied there,

And thy commandment all alone shall live 840

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 845

That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;

At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark. [Writes.]

So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word:

It is 'Adieu, adieu! Remember me.'

I have sworn't. 850

Horatio. [within] My lord, my lord!

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Marcellus. Lord Hamlet!

Horatio. Heaven secure him!

Hamlet. So be it! 855

Marcellus. Illo, ho, ho, my lord!

Hamlet. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! Come, bird, come.

Marcellus. How is't, my noble lord?

Horatio. What news, my lord?

Marcellus. O, wonderful! 860

Horatio. Good my lord, tell it.

Hamlet. No, you will reveal it.

Horatio. Not I, my lord, by heaven!

Marcellus. Nor I, my lord.

Hamlet. How say you then? Would heart of man once think it? 865

But you'll be secret?

Marcellus. [with Horatio] Ay, by heaven, my lord.

Hamlet. There's neer a villain dwelling in all Denmark

But he's an arrant knave.

Horatio. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave 870

To tell us this.

Hamlet. 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 desires shall point you, 875

For every man hath business and desire,

Such as it is; and for my own poor part,

Look you, I'll go pray.

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

Hamlet. I am sorry they offend you, heartily; 880

Yes, faith, heartily.

Horatio. There's no offence, my lord.

Hamlet. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio,