The Complete Works of Shakspeare, Revised from the Best Authorities : with a Memoir, and Essay on His Genius

Hor. 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 to-night 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?

Mar. Let's do 't, I pray; and I this morning. know

Where we shall find him most convenient.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same. A Room of State in the

same.

Enter the KING, QUEEN, HAMLET, POLONIUS, LAERTES, VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, LORDS, and Attendants.

King. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's

death

The memory be green; and that it us befitted [Exit Ghost. To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow of woe;

And our vain blows malicious mockery.

Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature,

That we with wisest sorrow think on him,
Together with remembrance of ourselves.

Ber. It was about to speak when the cock Therefore, our sometimes sister, now our queen,

crew.

Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons. I have heard, The cock, that is the trumpet of the morn, 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, The extravagant and erring spirit hies To his confine: and of the truth herein This present object made probation.

Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock. Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Savior's birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning singeth all night long: And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm; So hallowed and so gracious is the time.

The imperial jointress of this warlike state,
Have we, as 't were, 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
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,
Our state to be disjoint and out of frame,
Colleaguéd with this 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 bands of law,
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 bed-rid, scarcely hears
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 despatch
You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand,
For bearers 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.
Cor. In that, and all things, will we shew
Vol.
our duty.
King. We doubt it nothing; heartily farewell.
[Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS.
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,

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 night-like color

off,

And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Do not forever, with thy vailéd lids,
Seek for thy noble father in the dust:
Thou know'st 't is common; all that live must die,
Passing through nature to eternity.

Ham. Ay, madam, it is common.
Queen.
If it be,

Why seems it so particular with thee?

Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not

seems.

'T is not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,-
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,

And lose your voice: what wouldst thou beg, Nor the dejected havior of the visage,

From whence, though willingly I came to Den- But, you must know, your father lost a father;

mark,

To shew my duty in your coronation;

Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,

My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France,
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
King. Have you your father's leave? what says
Polonius?

That father lost his: and the survivor bound
In filial obligation, for some term
To do obsequious sorrow: but to perséver
In obstinate condolement, is a course
Of impious stubbornness; 't is unmanly grief:
It shews a will most incorrect to heaven :
A heart unfortified, a mind impatient;

Pol. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow An understanding simple and unschooled.

leave,

My laborsome petition; and, at last,

Upon his will I sealed my hard consent:

I do beseech you, give him leave to go.

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! 't is a fault to heaven,

King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,

thine,

And thy best graces: spend it at thy will.—
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son:
Ham. A little more than kin, and less than
kind.
[Aside.

To reason most absurd; whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first corse till he that died to day,
"This must be so." We pray you, throw to earth
This unprevailing woe; and think of us

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
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.

Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers,
Hamlet:

I pray thee stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.
Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
King. Why, 't is a loving and a fair reply;
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 to-day,
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell;
And the king's rouse the heavens shall bruit again,
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come, away!

[Exeunt KING, QUEEN, Lords, &c. POLONIUS,
and LAERTES.

Would have mourned longer,-married with mine uncle,

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 in her galléd eyes,
She married:-O most wicked speed, to post
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.

Enter HORATIO, BERNARDO, and MARCELLUS. Hor. Hail to your lordship!

Ham. I am glad to see you well:

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?

Mar. My good lord,

Ham. I am very glad to see you; good even, sir.

Ham. O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg? Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!

Or that the Everlasting had not fixed

Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord. Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so;

His canon 'gainst self-slaughter!-O God, O God! Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,

How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable,

Seem to me all the uses of this world!

Fie on 't, O fie! 't is an unweeded garden,

To make it truster of your own report

Against yourself: I know you are no truant. But what is your affair in Elsinore ?

That grows to seed; things rank and gross in We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.

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Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's fu

neral.

Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellowstudent:

I think it was to see my mother's wedding.
Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.
Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked
meats

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
'Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven

By what it fed on: and yet, within a month,
Let me not think on 't;- Frailty, thy name is Ere I had ever seen that day, Horatio.

Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,

I shall not look upon his like again.

Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
Ham. Saw who?

Hor. My lord, the king your father.
Ham. The king my father!

Hor. Season your admiration for a while
With an attent ear; till I may deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.

Ham. For heaven's love, let me hear!

Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, 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-á-pé,
Appears before them, and, with solemn march,
Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walked
By their oppressed and fear-surpriséd eyes,
Within his truncheon's length: whilst they, be-
chilled

Almost to jelly with the act of fear,

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:
Where, as they had delivered, both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes. I knew your father:
These hands are not more like.

Ham.

But where was this?

Ham. I will watch to-night
Perchance 'twill walk again.
Hor.
I warrant it will.

Ham. 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,

Mar. My lord, upon the platform, where we If you have hitherto concealed this sight,

Let it be tenable in your silence still;
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue:

I will requite your loves. So, fare you well:
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.

Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. Till then, sit still my soul. Foul deeds will rise, Hold you the watch to-night? Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's [Exit

All.

We do, my lord

eyes.

Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favor, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,

For nature, crescent, does not grow alone
In thews and bulk; but, as this 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
The virtue of his will: 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
The sanctity and the health of the whole state;
And therefore must his choice be circumscribed
Unto the voice and yielding of that body

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Whereof he is the head: then, if he says he loves But do not dull thy palm with entertainment

you,

It fits your wisdom so far to believe it

As he in his particular 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 honor may sustain,
If with too credent ear you list his songs;
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.
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 their buttons be disclosed;
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth,

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The Complete Works of Shakspeare, Revised from the Best ..., Volume 1