The Tragedie of Hamlet, Prince of DenmarkeI

— Who’s there?

Nay answer me: Stand & unfold yourself.

Long live the King.

Barnardo?

He.

5 You come most carefully upon your hour.

’Tis now struck twelve, get thee to bed Francisco.

For this relief much thanks: ’Tis bitter cold,

And I am sick at heart.

Have you had quiet guard?

10 Not a mouse stirring.

Well, goodnight. If you do meet Horatio and

Marcellus, the rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.

I think I hear them. Stand: who’s there?

Friends to this ground.

15 And liegemen to the Dane.

Give you good night.

O farewell honest soldier, who hath relieved you?

Barnardo has my place: give you good night.

Holla Barnardo.

20 Say, what is Horatio there?

A piece of him.

Welcome Horatio, welcome good Marcellus.

What, has this thing appeared again tonight.

I have seen nothing.

25 Horatio says, ’tis but our fantasy,

And will not let belief take hold of him

Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us,

Therefore I have entreated him along

With us, to watch the minutes of this night,

30 That if again this apparition come,

He may approve our eyes, and speak to it.

Tush, tush, ’twill not appear.

Sit down awhile,

And let us once again assail your ears,

35 That are so fortified against our story,

What we two nights have seen.

Well, sit, we down,

And let us hear Barnardo speak of this.

Last night of all,

40 When yond same star that’s westward from the pole

Had made his course t’illume that part of heaven

Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,

The bell then beating one.

Peace, break thee off:

45 Look where it comes again.

In the same figure, like the King that’s dead.

Thou art a scholar; speak to it Horatio.

Looks it not like the King? Mark it Horatio.

Most like: It harrows me with fear & wonder

50 It would be spoke to.

Question it Horatio.

What art thou that usurp’st this time of night,

Together with that fair and warlike form

In which the majesty of buried Denmark

55 Did sometimes march: By heaven I charge thee speak.

It is offended.

See, it stalks away.

Stay: speak; speak: I charge thee, speak.

’Tis gone, and will not answer.

60 How now Horatio? You tremble & look pale:

Is not this something more than fantasy?

What think you on’t?

Before my God, I might not this believe

Without the sensible and true avouch

65 Of mine own eyes.

Is it not like the King?

As thou art to thyself,

Such was the very armour he had on,

When th’Ambitious Norway combated:

70 So frowned he once, when in an angry parley

He smote the sledded Pollax on the ice.

’Tis strange.

Thus twice before, and just at this dead hour,

With martial stalk, hath he gone by our watch.

75 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.

Good now sit down, & tell me he that knows

Why this same strict and most observant watch,

80 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 sore task

Does not divide the Sunday from the week,

85 What might be toward, that this sweaty haste

Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day:

Who is’t that can inform me?

That can I,

At least the whisper goes so: our last King,

90 Whose image even but now appeared to us,

Was (as you know) by Fortinbras of Norway,

(Thereto pricked on by a most emulate pride)

Dared to the combat. In which, our valiant Hamlet,

(For so this side of our known world esteemed him)

95 Did slay this Fortinbras: who by a sealed compact,

Well ratified by law, and heraldry,

Did forfeit (with his life) all those his lands

Which he stood seized on, to the conqueror;

Against the which, a moiety competent

100 Was gagèd by our King: which had returned

To the inheritance of Fortinbras,

Had he been vanquisher, as by the same cov’nant

And carriage of the article design,

His fell to Hamlet. Now sir, young Fortinbras,

105 Of unimprovèd mettle, hot and full,

Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there,

Sharked up a list of landless resolutes,

For food and diet, to some enterprise

That hath a stomach in’t: which is no other

110 (And 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,

115 The source of this our watch, and the chief head

Of this post-haste, and rummage in the land.

But soft, behold: lo, where it comes again:

I'll cross it, though it blast me. Stay illusion:

If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,

120 Speak to me. If there be any good thing to be done,

That may to thee do ease, and grace to me; speak to me.

If thou art privy to thy country’s fate

(Which happily foreknowing may avoid) Oh speak.

Or, if thou hast uphoarded in thy life

125 Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,

(For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death)

Speak of it. Stay, and speak. Stop it Marcellus.

Shall I strike at it with my partisan?

Do, if it will not stand.

130 ’Tis here.

’Tis here.

’Tis gone.

We do it wrong, being so majestical

To offer it the show of violence,

135 For it is as the air, invulnerable,

And our vain blows, malicious mockery.

It was about to speak, when the cock crew.

And then it started, like a guilty thing

Upon a fearful summons. I have heard,

140 The cock that is the trumpet to the day,

Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat

Awake the god of day: and at his warning,

Whether in sea, or fire, in earth, or air,

Th’extravagant, and erring spirit, hies

145 To his confine. And of the truth herein,

This present object made probation.

It faded on the crowing of the cock.

Some says, that ever ’gainst that season comes

Wherein our Saviour’s birth is celebrated,

150 The bird of dawning singeth all night long:

And then (they say) no spirit can walk abroad,

The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,

No fairy talks, nor witch hath power to charm:

So hallowed, and so gracious is the time.

155 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 tonight

160 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?

Let do’t I pray, and I this morning know

165 Where we shall find him most conveniently.

Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother’s death

The memory be green: and that it us befitted

To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom

To be contracted in one brow of woe:

170 Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature,

That we with wisest sorrow think on him,

Together with remembrance of ourselves.

Therefore our sometimes sister, now our queen,

Th’Imperial jointress of this warlike state,

175 Have we, as ’twere, with a defeated joy,

With one auspicious, and one dropping eye,

With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage,

In equal scale weighing delight and dole

Taken to wife; nor have we herein barred

180 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,

185 Our state to be disjoint, and out of frame,

Co-leaguèd with the dream of his advantage;

He hath not failed to pester us with message,

Importing the surrender of those lands

Lost by his father: with all bonds of law

190 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 Bedrid, scarcely hears

195 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 Voltemand,

200 For bearing of this greeting to old Norway,

Giving to you no further personal power

To business with the King, more than the scope

Of these dilated articles allow:

Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty.

205 In that, and all things, will we show our duty.

We doubt it nothing, heartily farewell.

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,

210 And lose your voice. What wouldst 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.

215 What wouldst thou have Laertes?

Dread my lord,

Your leave and favour to return to France,

From whence, though willingly I came to Denmark

To show my duty in your coronation,

220 Yet now I must confess, that duty done,

My thoughts and wishes bend again towards France,

And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.

Have you your father’s leave?

What says Polonius?

225 He hath my lord[…]:

I do beseech you give him leave to go.

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?

230 A little more than kin, and less than kind.

How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

Not so my lord, I am too much i’th sun.

Good Hamlet cast thy nightly colour off,

And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.

235 Do not forever with thy vailèd lids

Seek for thy noble father in the dust;

Thou know’st ’tis common, all that lives must die,

Passing through nature, to eternity.

I madam, it is common.

240 If it be;

Why seems it so particular with thee.

Seems madam? Nay, it is: I know not seems:

’Tis not alone my inky cloak (good mother)

Nor customary suits of solemn black,

245 Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,

No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,

Nor the dejected behaviour of the visage,

Together with all forms, moods, shows of grief,

That can denote me truly. These indeed seem,

250 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.

’Tis sweet and commendable

In your nature Hamlet,

255 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

In filial obligation, for some term

To do obsequious sorrow. But to persever

260 In obstinate condolement, is a course

Of impious stubbornness. ’Tis unmanly grief,

It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,

A heart unfortified, a mind impatient,

An understanding simple, and unschooled:

265 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,

270 To reason most absurd, whose common theme

Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,

From the first corpse, till he that died today,

This must be so. We pray you throw to earth

This unprevailing woe, and think of us

275 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,

Than that which dearest father bears his son,

Do I impart towards you. For your intent

280 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.

285 Let not thy mother lose her prayers Hamlet:

I prithee stay with us, go not to Wittenberg.

I shall in all my best

Obey you madam.

Why ’tis a loving, and a fair reply,

290 Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam come,

This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet

Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof,

No jocund health that Denmark drinks today,

But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell,

295 And the King’s rouse, the heavens shall bruit again,

Respeaking earthly thunder. Come away.

Oh that this too too solid flesh, would melt,

Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew:

Or that the Everlasting had not fixed

300 His canon ’gainst self-slaughter. O God, O God!

How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable

Seems to me all the uses of this world?

Fie on’t? Oh fie, fie, ’tis an unweeded garden

That grows to seed: things rank, and gross in nature

305 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

Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother,

That he might not beteem the winds of heaven

310 Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth

Must I remember: why she would hang on him,

As if increase of appetite had grown

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

Let me not think on’t: Frailty, thy name is woman.

315 A little month, or ere those shoes were old,

With which she followed my poor father’s body

Like Niobe, all tears. Why she, even she.

(O heaven! A beast that wants discourse of reason

Would have mourned longer) married with mine uncle,

320 My father’s brother: but no more like my father,

Than I to Hercules. Within a month?

Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears

Had left the flushing of her gallèd eyes,

She married. O most wicked speed, to post

325 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.

Hail to your lordship.

I am glad to see you well:

330 Horatio, or I do forget myself.

The same my lord,

And your poor servant ever.

Sir my good friend,

I'll change that name with you:

335 And what make you from Wittenberg Horatio?

Marcellus.

My good lord.

I am very glad to see you: good even sir.

But what in faith make you from Wittenberg?

340 A truant disposition, good my lord.

I would not have your enemy say so;

Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,

To make it truster of your own report

Against yourself. I know you are no truant:

345 But what is your affair in Elsinore?

We'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.

My lord, I came to see your father’s funeral.

I pray thee do not mock me (fellow student)

I think it was to see my mother’s wedding.

350 Indeed my lord, it followed hard upon.

Thrift, thrift Horatio: the funeral baked-meats

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables;

Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven,

Ere I had ever seen that day Horatio.

355 My father, methinks I see my father.

Oh where my lord?

In my mind’s eye (Horatio)

I saw him once; he was a goodly king.

He was a man, take him for all in all:

360 I shall not look upon his like again.

My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.

Saw? Who?

My lord, the King your father.

The King my father?

365 Season your admiration for a while

With an attent ear; till I may deliver

Upon the witness of these gentlemen,

This marvel to you.

For heaven’s love let me hear.

370 Two nights together, had these gentlemen

(Marcellus and Barnardo) on their watch

In the dead waste and middle of the night

Been thus encountered. A figure like your father,

Armed at all points exactly, cap a Pe,

375 Appears before them, and with solemn march

Goes slow and stately: By them thrice he walked,

By their oppressed and fear-surprisèd eyes,

Within his truncheon’s length; whilst they bestilled

Almost to jelly with the act of fear,

380 Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me

In dreadful secrecy impart they did,

And I with them the third night kept the watch,

Whereas they had delivered both in time,

Form of the thing; each word made true and good,

385 The apparition comes. I knew your father:

These hands are not more like.

But where was this?

My lord, upon the platform where we watched.

Did you not speak to it?

390 My lord, I did;

But answer made it none: yet once methought

It lifted up its head, and did address

Itself to motion, like as it would speak:

But even then, the morning cock crew loud;

395 And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,

And vanished from our sight.

Tis very strange.

As I do live my honoured lord ’tis true;

And we did think it writ down in our duty

400 To let you know of it.

Indeed, indeed sirs; but this troubles me.

Hold you the watch tonight?

We do my lord.

Armed, say you?

405 Armed, my lord.

From top to toe?

My lord, from head to foot.

Then saw you not his face?

O yes, my lord, he wore his beaver up.

410 What, looked he frowningly?

A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.

Pale, or red?

Nay very pale.

And fixed his eyes upon you?

415 Most constantly.

I would I had been […]here.

It would have much amazed you.

Very like, very like: stayed it long?

While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.

420 Longer, longer.

Not when I saw’t.

His beard was grisly? No.

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

A sable silvered.

425 I'll watch tonight; perchance ’twill wake again.

I warrant you it will.

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,

430 If you have hitherto concealed this sight;

Let it be treble in your silence still:

And whatsoever else shall hap tonight,

Give it an understanding but no tongue;

I will requite your loves; so, fare ye well:

435 Upon the platform twixt eleven and twelve,

I'll visit you.

Our duty to your honour.

Your love, as mine to you: farewell.

My father’s spirit in arms? All is not well:

440 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.

My necessaries are imbarked; Farewell:

And sister, as the winds give benefit,

445 And convoy is assistant; do not sleep,

But let me hear from you.

Do you doubt that?

For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favours,

Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood;

450 A violet in the youth of primy nature;

Froward, not permanent; sweet not lasting

The suppliance of a minute? No more.

No more but so.

Think it no more:

455 For nature crescent does not grow alone,

In thews and bulk: but as his 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

460 The virtue of his fear: but you must fear

His greatness weighed, 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

465 The sanctity and health of the whole state.

And therefore must his choice be circumscribed

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;

470 As he in his peculiar sect and force

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;

475 Or lose your heart; or your chaste treasure open

To his unmastered importunity.

Fear it Ophelia, fear it my dear sister,

And keep within the rear of your affection;

Out of the shot and danger of desire.

480 The chariest maid is prodigal enough,

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 the buttons be disclosed,

485 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.

I shall th’effect of this good lesson keep,

490 As watchmen 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 puffed and reckless libertine

Himself, the primrose path of dalliance treads,

495 And recks not his own rede.

Oh, fear me not.

I stay too long; but here my father comes:

A double blessing is a double grace;

Occasion smiles upon a second leave.

500 Yet here Laertes? Aboard, aboard for shame,

The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,

And you are stayed for there: my blessing with you;

And these few precepts in thy memory,

See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,

505 Nor any unproportioned 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 hoops of steel;

But do not dull thy palm, with entertainment

510 Of each unhatched, unfledged comrade. Beware

Of entrance to a quarrel: but being in

Bear’t that th'opposèd may beware of thee.

Give every man thine ear; but few thy voice:

Take each man’s censure; but reserve thy judgment:

515 Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy;

But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy:

For the apparel oft proclaims the man.

And they in France of the best rank and station,

Are of a most select and generous chief in that.

520 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,

525 Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Farewell: my blessing season this in thee.

Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.

The time invites you, go, your servants send.

Farewell Ophelia, and remember well

530 What I have said to you.

Tis in my memory locked,

And you yourself shall keep the key of it.

Farewell.

What is’t Ophelia he hath said to you?

535 So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.

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.

540 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?

545 He hath my lord of late, made many tenders

Of his affection to me.

Affection, pooh. You speak like a green girl,

Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.

Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?

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

Marry I'll teach you; think yourself a baby,

That you have ta’en his tenders for true pay,

Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly;

Or not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,

555 Roaming it thus, you'll tender me a fool.

My lord, he hath importuned me with love,

In honourable fashion.

I, fashion you may call it, go to, go to.

And hath given countenance to his speech,

560 My lord, with all the vows of heaven.

I, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know

When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul

Gives the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter,

Giving more light than heat; extinct in both,

565 Even in their promise, as it is a making;

You must not take for fire. For this time daughter,

Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence;

Set your entreatments at a higher rate,

Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,

570 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 the eye, which their investments show:

575 But mere implorators 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 leisure,

580 As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet:

Look to't, I charge you; come your ways.

I shall obey my lord.

The air bites shrewdly: is it very cold?

It is a nipping and an eager air.

585 What hour now?

I think it lacks of twelve.

No, it is struck.

Indeed I heard it not: then it draws near the (season,

Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.

590 What does this mean my lord?

The King doth wake tonight, and takes his (rouse,

Keeps wassails and the swaggering upspring reels,

And as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,

The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out

595 The triumph of his pledge.

Is it a custom?

I marry is’t;

And to my mind, though I am native here,

And […] the manner born: it is a custom

600 More honoured in the breach, than the observance.

Look my lord, it comes.

Angels and ministers of grace defend us:

Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damned,

Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell,

605 Be thy events 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: Oh, oh, answer me,

Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell

610 Why thy canonized bones hearsèd in death,

Have burst their cerements, why the sepulcher

Wherein we saw thee quietly inurned,

Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws,

To cast thee up again? What may this mean?

615 That thou dead corpse again in compleat 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 thee; reaches of our souls,

620 Say, why is this? Wherefore? What should we do?

It beckons you to go away with it,

As if it some impartment did desire

To you alone.

Look with what courteous action

625 It wafts you to a more removèd ground:

But do not go with it.

No, by no means.

It will not speak: then will I follow it.

Do not my lord.

630 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:

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

635 What if it tempt you toward the flood my lord?

Or to the dreadful Sonnet of the cliff,

That beetles o’er his base into the sea,

And there assumes some other horrible form,

Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason,

640 And draw you into madness think of it?

It wafts me still: go on, I'll follow thee.

You shall not go my lord.

Hold off your hand.

Be ruled, you shall not go.

645 My fate cries out,

And makes each petty artery in this body,

As hardy as the Nemean lion’s nerve:

Still am I called? Unhand me gentlemen:

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

650 I say away, go on, I'll follow thee.

He waxes desperate with imagination.

Let’s follow; ’tis not fit thus to obey him.

Have after, to what issue will this come?

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

655 Heaven will direct it.

Nay, let’s follow him.

Where wilt thou lead me? Speak; I'll go no further.

Mark me.

I will.

660 My hour is almost come,

When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames

Must render up myself.

Alas poor ghost.

Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing

665 To what I shall unfold.

Speak, I am bound to hear.

So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.

What?

I am thy father’s spirit,

670 Doomed for a certain term to walk the night;

And for the day confined to fast in fires,

Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature

Are burnt and purged away? But that I am forbid

To tell the secrets of my prison-house;

675 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 knotty and combinèd locks to part,

And each particular hair to stand on end,

680 Like quills upon the fretful porpentine:

But this eternal blazon must not be

To ears of flesh and blood; list Hamlet, oh list,

If thou didst ever thy dear father love.

Oh heaven!

685 Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

Murder?

Murder most foul, as in the best it is;

But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.

Haste haste me to know it,

690 That with wings as swift

As meditation, or the thoughts of love,

May sweep to my revenge.

I find thee apt,

And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed

695 That rots itself in ease, on Lethe wharf,

Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now Hamlet hear:

It’s given out, that sleeping in mine orchard,

A serpent stung me: so the whole ear of Denmark,

Is by a forgèd process of my death

700 Rankly abused: But know thou noble youth,

The serpent that did sting thy father’s life,

Now wears his crown.

O my prophetic soul: mine uncle?

I that incestuous, that adulterate beast

705 With witchcraft of his wits, hath traitorous gifts.

Oh wicked wit, and gifts, that have the power

So to seduce? Won to this shameful lust

The will of my most seeming virtuous queen:

Oh Hamlet, what a falling off was there,

710 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 virtue, as it never will be moved,

715 Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven:

So lust, though to a radiant angel linked,

Will sate itself in a celestial bed, & prey on garbage.

But soft, methinks I scent the morning’s air;

Brief let me be: Sleeping within mine orchard,

720 My custom always in the afternoon;

Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole

With juice of cursèd hebenon in a vial,

And in the porches of mine ears did pour

The leperous distillment; whose effect

725 Holds such an enmity with blood of man,

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,

730 The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine;

And a most instant tetter baked about,

Most lazarlike, with vile and loathsome crust,

All my smooth body.

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

735 Of life, of crown, and queen at once dispatched;

Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,

Unhousled, disappointed, unaneled,

No reckoning made, but sent to my account

With all my imperfections on my head;

740 Oh horrible, oh 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 damnèd incest.

But howsoever thou pursuest this act,

745 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,

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

The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,

750 And gins to pale his uneffectual fire:

Adieu, adieu, Hamlet: remember me.

Oh all you host of heaven! Oh earth; what else?

And shall I couple hell? Oh fie: hold my heart;

And you my sinews, grow not instant old;

755 But bear me stiffly up: Remember thee?

I, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat

In this distracted globe: Remember thee?

Yea, from the table of my memory,

I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,

760 All saws 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,

Unmixed with baser matter; yes, yes, by heaven:

765 Oh most pernicious woman!

Oh villain, villain, smiling damnèd villain!

My tables, my tables; meet it is I set it down,

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

At least I’m sure it may be so in Denmark;

770 So uncle there you are: now to my word;

It is; Adieu, adieu, remember me: I have I sworn’t.

My lord, my lord.

Lord Hamlet.

Heaven secure him.

775 So be it.

Illo, ho, ho, my lord.

Hillo, ho, ho, boy; come bird, come.

How is’t my noble lord?

What news, my lord?

780 Oh wonderful!

Good my lord tell it.

No you'll reveal it.

Not I, my lord, by heaven.

Nor I, my lord.

785 How say you then, would heart of man once (think it?

But you'll be secret?

I, by heaven, my lord.

There’s ne’er a villain dwelling in all Denmark

But he's an arrant knave.

790 There needs no ghost my lord, come from the

Grave, to tell us this.

Why right, you are i’th right;

And so, without more circumstance at all,

I hold it fit that we shake hands, and part:

795 You, as your business and desires shall point you:

For every man has business and desire,

Such as it is: and for mine own poor part,

Look you, I'll go pray.

These are but wild and hurling words, my lord.

800 I’m sorry they offend you heartily:

Yes faith, heartily,

There’s no offence my lord.

Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is my lord,

And much offence too, touching this vision here:

805 It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you:

For your desire to know what is between us,

O’ermaster’t as you may. And now good friends,

As you are friends, scholars and soldiers,

Give me one poor request.

810 What is’t my lord? We will.

Never make known what you have seen tonight.

My lord, we will not.

Nay, but swear’t.

In faith my lord, not I.

815 Nor I my lord: in faith.

Upon my sword.

We have sworn my lord already.

Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.

Swear.

820 Ah ha boy. sayest thou so. Art thou there truepenny? Come one you hear this fellow in the cellarage Consent to swear.

Propose the oath my lord.

Never to speak of this that you have seen. Swear by my sword.

825 Swear.

Hic & ubique? Then we'll shift for ground,

Come hither gentlemen,

And lay your hands again upon my sword,

Never to speak of this that you have heard:

830 Swear by my sword.

Swear.

Well said old mole. Canst work i’th’ ground so (fast?

A worthy pioneer, once more remove good friends.

Oh day and night; but this is wondrous strange.

835 And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

Than are dreamt of in our philosophy But come,

Here as before, never so help you mercy,

How strange or odd soe’er I bear myself;

840 (As I perchance hereafter shall think meet

To put an antic disposition on:)

That you at such time seeing me, never shall

With arms encumbered thus, or thus, headshake;

Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase;

845 As well, we know, or we could and if we would,

Or if we list to speak; or there be and if there might,

Or such ambiguous giving out to note,

That you know aught of me; this not to do:

So grace and mercy at your most need help you:

850 Swear.

Swear.

Rest, rest perturbèd spirit: so gentlemen,

With all my love I do commend me to you;

And what so poor a man as Hamlet is,

855 May do t’express his love and friending to you,

God willing shall not lack: let us go in together,

And still your fingers on your lips I pray,

The time is out of joint: Oh cursèd spite,

That ever I was born to set it right,

860 Nay, come let’s go together.