To business with the king, more than the scope Farewell; and let your haste commend your duty. Cor. Vol. In that, and all things, will we show our duty. King. We doubt it nothing: heartily farewell. [Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS. | And now, Laertes, what 's the news with you? And lose your voice: what would'st thou beg, Laertes, Laer. My dread lord, Your leave and favour to return to France; From whence though willingly I came to Denmark, 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. | 16 King. Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius? 17 He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave, Pol. By laboursome petition; and, at last, Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent: I do beseech you, give him leave to go. King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes, time be thine, And thy best graces spend it at thy will. Ham. A little more than kin, and less than kind. Seek for thy noble father in the dust: Thou know'st, 't is common; all that lives must die, Ham. Ay, Madam, it is common. If it be, [Aside. 18 19 Ham. Seems, Madam! nay, it is; I know not seems.. 'T is not alone my inky cloak, good mother, King. 'T is sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, 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 To do obsequious sorrow: but to persevere Of impious stubbornness; 't is unmanly grief. It shows a will most incorrect to heaven; A heart unfortified, a mind impatient, For what, we know, must be, and is as common As of a father; for let the world take note, Than that which dearest father bears his son Do I impart toward you. For your intent Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet: [Flourish. Exeunt all but Hamlet. | Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter. O God! God! Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on 't! O fie! 't is an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in nature, Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother, By what it fed on; and yet, within a month, Let me not think on 't. Frailty, thy name is woman! With which she follow'd my poor father's body, (0 God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourn'd longer) married with my uncle, Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears She married. O, most wicked speed, to post It is not, nor it cannot come to, good; But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue! | 22 23 24 25 26 Hor. Ham. Horatio, Hor. Enter HORATIO, BERNARDO, and MARCELLUS. Hail to your lordship! I am glad to see you well: or I do forget myself. 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. We'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart. | Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow - student; I think, it was to see my mother's wedding. Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon. Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. 'Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven Ere ever I had seen that day, Horatio! My father, Hor. Ham. methinks, I see my father. Where, my lord? In my mind's eye, Horatio. Hor. I saw him once: he was a goodly king. I shall not look upon his like again. Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight. Hor. My lord, the king your father. | The king my father? Hor. Season your admiration for a while Ham. For God's love, let me hear. Hor. Two nights together, had these gentlemen, In the dead vast and middle of the night, Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me 27 And I with them the third night kept the watch; Form of the thing, each word made true and good, These hands are not more like. Ham. Ham. Hor. But where was this? My lord, I did, But answer made it none; yet once, methought, It lifted up its head, and did address But, even then, the morning cock crew loud, Ham. 'T is very strange. Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 't is true; And we did think it writ down in our duty, To let you know of it. Ham. Indeed, Sirs, but this troubles me. Hold you the watch to-night? All. My lord, from head to foot. Ham. Then, saw you not his face? Hor. O! yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up. Ham. Hor. What! look'd he frowningly? In sorrow than in anger. A countenance more 28 |