And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, All. Our duty to your honor. Ham. Your loves, as mine to you: Farewell. [Exeunt HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO My father's spirit in arms! all is not well; I doubt some foul play: 'would, the night were come! Though all the earth o'erwhelms them, to men's eyes. SCENE III. A Room in Polonius' House. Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA. Laer. My necessaries are embark'd; farewell: And, sister, as the winds give benefit, Do you doubt that? Oph. Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood; Then weigh what loss your honor may sustain, Oph. I shall the effect of this good lesson keep, Laer. O fear me not. I stay too long; -But here my father comes. Enter POLONIUS. Pol. Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame; The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, [Exit. [Laying his hand on LAERTEs' head And you are staid for: There, my blessing with you! And these few precepts in thy memory Look thou character. 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, Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. What I have said to you. Oph. 'Tis in my memory lock'd, And you yourself shall keep the key of it. Laer. Farewell. SCENE IV.-The Platform. 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. Mar. No, it is struck. I think, it lacks of twelve. Hor. Indeed? I heard it not; then it draws near the season, Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. [A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot off, within. What does this mean, my lord? Ham. The king doth wake to-night, and takes his rouse, And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out Hor Ham. Ay, marry, is't: Is it a custom? But to my mind, though I am native here, And to the manner born, it is a custom More honor'd in the breach, than the observance. Enter Ghost. Hor. Look, my lord, it comes! Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us!. Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd, With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ? As if it some impartment did desire To you alone. Mar. It waves you to a more removed ground: Look, with what courteous action No, by no means. But do not go with it. Hor. Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it. Hor. Do not, my lord. Ham. Why, what should be the fear r 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. 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, And draw you into madness ? Ham. Go on, I'l. follow thee. It waves me still : Mar. You shall not go, my lord. Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not go. Hold off your hands. My fate cries out, And makes each petty artery in this body Still am I call'd ;-unhand me, gentlemen : [Ghost beckons. [Breaking from them. By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me : I say, away :-Go on, I'll follow thee. [Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET. SCENE V.-A more remote Part of the Platform. Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? speak, I'll go no further. Ghost. Mark me. Ham. Ghost. When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames Must render up myself. Ham. I will. My hour is almost come, Alas, poor ghost! Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing To what I shall unfold. Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear. Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear. Ghost. I am thy father's spirit; Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood; And each particular hair to stand on end, To ears of flesh and blood :-List, list, O list! If thou didst ever thy dear father love, Ham. O heaven! Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder. Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is; But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. D Ham. Haste 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 should'st thou be than the fat weed That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, Would'st thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear: 'Tis given out, that sleeping in mine orchard, Rankly abus'd: but know, thou noble youth, Ham. O, my prophetic soul! my uncle! With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts, The will of my most seeming virtuous queen: But, soft! methinks, I scent the morning air; Ham. O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible! |