Oph. And hath given Countenance to his Speech, my Lord, With almost all the Vows of Heaven,
Pol. Ay, 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,
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,
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 shew,
But meer Implorators of unholy Suits,
Breathing like fanctified 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,
As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet :
Look to't, I charge you; come your way.
Oph. I shall obey my Lord.
SCENE III. The Platform before the Palace.
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. I think it lacks of twelve.
Mar. No, it has struck.
Hor. I heard it not: Then it draws near the Seafon,
Wherein the Spirit held his wont to walk.
[Noise of warlike Musick within.
What does this mean, my Lord ?
Ham. The King doth wake to Night, and takes his rowse, Keeps wassel, and the swaggering upspring reels, And as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,
The Kettle Drum and Trumpet thus bray out
The triumph of his Pledge.
Hor.
Hor. Is it a Custom?
Ham. 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
Hor. 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 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
Why thy Canoniz'd Bones hearsed in Death,
Have burst their Cearments? why the Sepulcher
Wherein we saw thee quietly Inurn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble Jaws,
To caft thee up again? What may this mean?
That thou dead Coarse again in compleat 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 defire,
To you alone.
Mar. Look with what courteous Action
It wafts you to a more removed Ground:
But do not go with it.
Hor. No, by no means.
Ham. It will not speak; then will I follow it.
Hor. Do not, my Lord.
Ham. Why, what should be the fear?
I do not fet my Life at a Pins fee;
And for my Soul, what can it do to that?
Being a thing immortal as it self.
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 bafe 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.
Ham. It wafts me still: Go on, I'll follow thee.---
Mar. You shall not go, my Lord.
Ham. Hold off your Hand.
Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not go.
Ham. My Fate crics out,
And makes each petty Artery in this Body,
As hardy as the Nemean Lion's Nerve :
Still am I call'd? Unhand me, Gentlemen---[Breaking from them. By Heav'n I'll make a Ghost of him that letts me
[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. Heav'n will direct it.
Mar. Nay, let's follow him.
Enter Ghost and Hamlet.
Ham. Where wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no further.
Ghoft. Mark me.
Ham. I will.
Ghoft. My hour is almost come,
When I to fulphurous and tormenting Flames
Must render up my felf.
Ham. Alas poor Ghoft,
Ghoft. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold.
Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear.
Ghoft. 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 faft 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 Prifon-house;
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 combined Locks to part,
And each particular Hair to stand an end
Like Quills upon the fretful Porcupine :
But this eternal Blazon must not be
To ears of Flesh and Blood; list Hamlet! oh lift!
If thou dist ever thy dear Father love
Ham. Oh Heaven!
Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural Murther.
Ham. Murther ?
Ghost. Murther most foul, as in the best it is;
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
Ham. Hafte me to know it, that I with Wings as swift
As Meditation, or the Thoughts of Love
May sweep to my Revenge.
Ghost. I find thee apt ;
And duller shouldst thou be than the fat Weed
That rots it felf in eafe on Lethe's Wharf,
Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:
It's given out, that fleeping 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,
The Serpent that did sting thy Father's Life,
Now wears his Crown.
Ham. O my Prophetick Soul; mine Uncle?
Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate Beast,
With Witchcraft of his Wits, and traiterous Gifts,
Oh wicked Wit, and Gifts, that have the Power
So to seduce ! won to his shameful Luft
The Will of my most seeming virtuous Queen,
Oh 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 Virtue, as it never will be moved,
Though Lewdness court it in a Shape of Heaven;
So lust, though to a radiant Angel link'd,
Will fate it felf in a Celestial Bed, and prey on Garbage.
But soft, methinks I scent the Morning's Air
Brief let me be; fleeping within mine Orchard,
My Custom always in the Afternoon,
Upon my fecure Hour thy Uncle stole
With Juice of cursed Hebenon in a Viol,
And in the Porches of mine Ears did pour
The leprous Distilment; whose effect
Holds such an enmity with blood of Man,
That swift as Quick-filver it courses through
The natural Gates and Allies of the Body;
And with a fudden vigour it doth poffet
And curd, like Eagre droppings into Milk,
The thin and wholsome blood: So did it mine
And a most instant Tetter bak'd about,
Most Lazar-like, with vile and loathsome cruft,
All my smooth Body.
Thus was I, fleeping, by a Brother's Hand,
Of Life, of Crown, and Queen at once dispatcht;
Cut off even in the Blossoms of my Sin,
Unhouzzled, disappointed, unnaneid,
No reckoning made, but fent to my Account
With all my imperfections on my Head.
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 damned Inceft.
But howsoever thou pursuest this Act,
Taint not thy Mind, nor let thy Soul contrive
Against thy Mother ought; leave her to Heav'n,
And to those Thorns that in her Bosom lodge,
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once,
The Glow-worm thews the Matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual Fire.
Adieu, adieu, Hamlet ! remember me.
Ham. 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;
But bear me stifly up; remember thee
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