The head is not more native to the heart, Laer. Dread my lord, 50 Your leave and favour to return to France; From whence though willingly I came to Denmark, Yet now, I must confess, that duty done, My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France, 55 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: 60 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 sun. Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. Do not for ever with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust: 66 70 Thou know'st 'tis common,-all that live must die, Ham. Ay, madam, it is common. If it be, Why seems it so particular with thee? 75 Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not 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, 80 Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, moods, shows of grief, For they are actions that a man might play: 85 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, To do obsequious sorrow: but to persevere 90 Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief: Than that which dearest father bears his son 95 100 105 IIO And we beseech you bend you to remain Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye, Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son. 115 Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet: I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg. 120 125 [Exeunt all but HAMLET. His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God! 130 Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature But two months dead!-nay, not so much, not two: 135 140 By what it fed on: and yet, within a month,— 145 Let me not think on't,-Frailty, thy name is woman!— 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, 150 Would have mourn'd longer,—married with mine uncle, My father's brother; but no more like my father Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, 155 She married :-0, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! 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 servant ever. Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you. And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?— Marcellus? 165 Mar. My good lord,— Ham. I am very glad to see you.-Good even, sir.— But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg? Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord. 170 Nor shall you do mine ear that violence, Against yourself: I know you are no truant. We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. 175 Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student; I think it was to see my mother's wedding. Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon't. Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd-meats 180 Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven Ere I had ever seen that day, Horatio!— My father,—methinks I see my father. Hor. Oh! where, my lord? Ham. Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight. Hor. My lord, the king your father. The king my Hor. Season your admiration for awhile Ham. In the dead vast and middle of the night, Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father, 190 father! 195 200 205 Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me And I with them the third night kept the watch: But where was this? Ham. 210 My lord, I did; 215 But answer made it none: yet once methought It lifted up its head, and did address Ham. 'Tis very strange. Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true; And we did think it writ down in our duty To let you know of it. Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. Hold you the watch to-night? Mar. and Ber. Ham. Arm'd, say you? We do, my lord. Mar. and Ber. Arm'd, my lord. Ham. From top to toe? 220 225 My lord, from head to foot. 230 Ham. Then saw you not his face? Hor. O yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up. Ham. What, look'd he frowningly? Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. Ham. Pale or red? Hor. Nay, very pale. Ham. Hor. Most constantly. Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you? I would I had been there. 235 Hor. It would have much amaz'd you. Ham. Very like, very like. Stay'd it long? Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred. Mar. and Ber. Longer, longer. Hor. Not when I saw't. His beard was grizzled,-no? 240 Ham. Ham. I warrant you it will Ham. If it assume my noble father's person 245 250 |