Hor. O, yes, my lord! he wore his beaver 6 up.
Ham. What, look'd he frowningly?
Hor.
In sorrow than in anger.
Hor. Nay, very pale.
Ham.
Hor. Most constantly.
A countenance more
Pale, or red?
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,
And fix'd his eyes upon you? 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 2 ear you list 3 his songs:
Or lose your heart; or your chaste treasure open
To his unmaster'd importunity.
I would, I had been there.
Hor. It would have much amaz'd you.
Ham.
Very like,
Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell
a hundred.
Mar. Ber. Longer, longer.
Hor. Not when I saw it.
Ham.
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 grizzl'd? no? The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life,
A sable silver'd.
Ham.
I will watch to-night;
Perchance, 'twill walk again.
Hor.
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:
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.
Our duty to your honour. Ham. Your loves, as mine to you: Farewell. [Exeunt HoR. MAR. and BER. 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.
SCENE III. — A Room in Polonius's House.
Laer. 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,
The pérfume and suppliance of a minute;
No more.
Oph. No more but so?
Think it no more:
For nature, crescent 7, does not grow alone
In thews 8, 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 besmirch
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
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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
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
Look thou charácter.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, unfledg'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 7, but reserve thy judge-
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 9 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
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 honour:
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,
Unsifted 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 impórtun'd me with love, In honourable 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 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 die which their investments show,
But mere implorators 5 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.
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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,
Makes us traduc'd and tax'd of other nations:
They clepe 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 mode 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",
To his own scandal.
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 4 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,
Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To cast thee up again! What may this mean,
That thou, dead corse, again, in cómplete steel
Revisit'st 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?
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.
Look, with what courteous action It waves you to a more removed ground:
Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it.
Hor. Do not, my lord.
Ham.
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:
Why, what should be the fear? But this eternal blazon 9 must not be
1 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?
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,
Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason,
And draw you into madness? think of it:
The very place puts toys 7 of desperation,
Without more motive, into every brain,
That looks so many fathoms to the sea,
And hears it roar beneath.
Ham.
Go on, I'll follow thee.
Mar. You shall not go, my lord.
Ham.
Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not go.
Ham.
And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Némean lion's nerve.
[Ghost beckons. Still am I call'd; - unhand me, gentlemen; [Breaking from them. By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets 8
[Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET.
Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination.
Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.
Hor. Have after:-To what issue will this come?
Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
Hor. Heaven will direct it.
Mar.
Nay, let's follow him.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.-A more remote Part of the Platform.
Re-enter Ghost and HAMLET.
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Ghost.
And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,
Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:
'Tis given out, that sleeping in mine 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,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life,
Now wears his crown.
Ham. O, my prophetick soul! my uncle.
Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
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!
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, 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
Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak, I'll go Holds such an enmity with blood of man,
no further.
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That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through
The natural gates and alleys of the body;
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 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 3:
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
Unhousel'd, disappointed 3, unanel'd;
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 horrid incest.
9 Display. 1 Henbane. 2 Leprous.
4 Without having received the sacrament.
5 Unappointed, unprepared. 6 Without extreme unction.
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. 7 Remember thee?
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
All saws 8 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!
There's no offence, my lord.
Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Hora
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.
Ham. Never make known what you have seen to-night.
Hor. Mar. My lord, we will not.
Nay, but swear't. In faith,
Nor I, my lord, in faith.
Come on, 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.
Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear.
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 antick 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;
Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from 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 gentlemen,
With all my love I do commend me to you:
And what so poor a man as Hamlet is
May do, to express his love and friending to you,
Heaven willing, shall not lack. Let us go in to-
gether;
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.
Here and every where.
By the mass, I was . Where did I leave?
Rey. At, closes in the consequence.
Pol. At, closes in the consequence,— Ay, marry;
I know the gentleman ;
He closes with you thus:
Pol. You shall do marvellous wisely, good Rey- I saw him yesterday, or t'other day,
Rey.
My lord, I did intend it.
Pol. Marry, well said: very well said.
you, sir,
Inquire me first what Danskers ? are in Paris;
And how, and who, what means, and where they
keep,
What company, at what expence; 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 ; Do you mark this, Reynaldo?
Rey. Ay, very well, my lord.
Pol. And, in part, him ; ·
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.
Pol. Wherefore should you do this?
Rey.
I would know that.
Ay, my lord,
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 prenominate 3 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,
Of man, and country.
Very good, my lord. Already named.
Pol. With what, in the name of heaven? 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-gyved to his ankle; 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?
Oph.
But, truly, I do fear it.
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;
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,
As it did seem to sbatter 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 of doors he went without their helps,
And, to the last, bended their light on me.
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