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That can denote me truly. These indeed

seem,

For they are actions that a man might play; But I have that within which passeth show; These but the trappings and the suits of woe. King. 'Tis 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

In filial obligation for some term

To do obsequious sorrow; but to persever
In obstinate condolement is a course

Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief;
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,
A heart unfortified, a mind impatient,
An understanding simple and unschooled;
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! 'tis a fault to heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
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 toward 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 Witten

berg.

Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply.
Be as ourself in Denmark.

Madam, come;

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This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof,
No jocund health that Denmark drinks 125
to-day,

But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell, And the King's rouse the heaven shall bruit again, Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away. [Flourish. Exeunt all but Hamlet. Ham. O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!

Or that the Everlasting had not fixed

His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God!
God!

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How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable,
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't! ah fie! "Tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to seed; things rank and gross
in nature

Possess it merely. That it should come to
this!

But two months dead! Nay, not so much, not two.

So excellent a king; that was, to this,

Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven

Visit her face too roughly.

earth!

Heaven and

Must I remember? Why, she would hang on

him,

As if increase of appetite had grown

By what it fed on; and yet, within a month,

Let me not think on't-Frailty, thy name is

woman!

A little month, or e'er those shoes were old
With which she followed my poor father's
body,

Like Niobe, all tears,-why she, even she-
O God! a beast, that wants discourse of

reason,

Would have mourned longer-married with my 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 galled eyes, 155
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, Marcellus, and Bernardo.
Hor. Hail to your lordship!

Ham.

I am glad to see you well. 160

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, Hora

tio?

Marcellus?

Mar. My good lord,

Ham. I am very glad to see you. [To Ber.] Good even, sir.

But what, in faith, make you from Witten-
berg?

Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.
Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so,
Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
To make it truster of your own report

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

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, fellowstudent.

I think it was to see my mother's wedding. Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon. 180 Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bakedmeats

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!
My father!-methinks I see my father.
185 Hor. Where, my lord?

Ham.
In my mind's eye, Horatio.
Hor. I saw him once; he was a goodly king.
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. 190 Ham. Saw? Who?

195

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 God's love, let me hear.

Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen, Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,

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