Oph. My lord, he hath importun'd me with love, In honourable fashion.

Pol. Ay, fashion you may call't: go to, go to.

Oph. And hath giv'n count'nance to his speech, my lord, With almost all the holy vows of heaven.

Pol. Ay, fpringes to catch woodcocks. I do know
When the blood burns, how prodigal the foul

Lends the tongue vows. These blazes, oh my daughter,
Giving more light than heat, extinct in both,

Ev'n in their promise as it is a making,
You must not take for fire. From this time,
Be fomewhat scanter of your maiden presence,
Set your intreatments at a highter rate,

6

Than a command to parley. For lord Hamlet,
Believe fo 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 fhew,
But meer implorers of unholy fuits,

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 fo flander any moment's leisure,

As to give words or talk with the lord Hamlet.
Look to't, I charge you; come your way.
Oph. I fhall obey, my lord.

[Exeunt.

Tider, or tether, teder, a firing to tye horses.

i Not of the eye which their invefments fhew.

SCENE

SCENE VII.

The Platform before the palace.

Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus.

Ham. THE Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air.

HE Air bites fhrewdly; it is very cold.

Ham. What hour now?

Hor. I think it lacks of twelve.

Mar. No, it is ftruck.

Hor. I heard it not: it then draws near the season

Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.

What does this mean, my lord?

[Noife of warlike mufick within.

Ham. The King doth wake to-night, and takes his rowse, Keeps waffel, and the swagg'ring upstart reels;

And as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,

The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out

The triumph of his pledge.

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.

Enter

*Thefe 21 lines following are in the first edition, but fince left out, perhaps as

being thought too verbose.

This heavy-headed revell, eaft and weft;

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 atchievements, though perform'd at height,
The pith and marrow of our attribute.

So oft it chances in particular men,

That for fome vicious mole of nature in them,

As

Enter Ghoft.

Hor. Look, my lord, it comes!

Ham. Angels and minifters of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd,

Bring with thee airs from heav'n, or blafts from hell,

k

Be thy * intents wicked or charitable,

Thou com'ft in fuch a questionable shape,

That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet,
King, Father, Royal Dane: 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 fepulcher,
Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd,
Hath ope'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To caft thee up again? What may this mean?
That thou dead coarse again in compleat steel
Revifit'ft 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 fouls.
Say, why is this? wherefore? what fhould we do?

[Ghoft beckons Hamlet.

Hor. It beckons you to go away with it,

As in their birth (wherein they are not guilty,
Since nature cannot chufe his origin)
By the o'ergrowth of fome complexion,
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reafon;
Or by fome habit, that too much o'er-leavens
The form of plaufive manners; that these men
Carrying, I fay, the ftamp of one defect,
(Being nature's livery, or fortune's star)
His virtues elfe, be they as pure as grace,
As infinite as man may undergo,

Shall in the general cenfure take corruption
From that particular fault.

Enter Ghoft. &c.

kevents.

As

As if it some impartment did defite
To you alone.

Mar. Look with what courteous action

It waves you to a more removed ground:
But do not go with it.

Hor. No, by no means.

Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it.

Hor. Do not, my lord.

Ham. Why, what should be the feàr ?

I do not fet my life at a pin's fee;
And for my foul, what can it do to that?
Being a thing immortal as it self.

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

[bolding Hamlet.

Hor. What if it tempt you tow'rd the flood, my lord? Or to the dreadful fummit of the cliff,

That beetles o'er his bafe into the sea;

And there aflume fome other horrible form,

Which might deprive your fov'reignty of reason,
And draw you into madness? think of it.
* The very place puts toys of desperation,
Without more motive, into ev'ry brain,
That looks so many fadoms to the fea;
And hears it roar beneath.

Ham. It waves me ftill: 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 cries 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 lets me----

*The 4 following lines added from the fr edition.

6

I

I say away

go on

on ---- I'll follow thee ---- [Ex. Ghoft and Ham Hor. He waxes desp'rate with imagination.

Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.
Hor. Have after. To what iffue will this come?

Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
Hor. Heav'n will direct it.

Mar. Nay, let's follow him.

SCENE VIII.

Re-Enter Ghoft and Hamlet.

[Exeunt.

Ham. Where wilt thou lead me? fpeak; 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 self.

Ham. Alas poor Ghost!

Ghoft. Pity me not, but lend thy ferious hearing

To what I fhall unfold.

Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear.

Ghoft. So art thou to revenge, when thou fhalt 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 fecrets of my prison-house,

I could a tale unfold, whofe lighteft word
Would harrow up thy foul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres,
Thy knotty and combined locks to part,

And