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With almost all the holy rows of heaven.
Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know, 115

When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
Lends the tongue vows. These blazes,

daughter,
Giving more light than heat, extinct in both
Even in their promise, as it is a-making,
You must not take for fire. From this time 120
Be something scanter of your maiden pres-

ence.
Set your entreatments at a higher rate
Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,
Believe so much in him, that he is young,
And with a larger tether may he walk 125
Than may be given you. In few, Ophelia,
Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers,
Not of that dye which their investments show,
But mere implorators of unholy suits,
Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds, 180
The better to beguile. This is for all:
I would not, in plain terms, from this time

forth,
Have you so slander any moment leisure,
As to give words or talk with the Lord

Hamlet.
Look to 't, I charge you. Come your ways. 135
Oph. I shall obey, my lord.

[Exeunt.

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.

I think it lacks of twelve. Mar. No, it is struck. 5 Hor. Indeed? I heard it not. It then 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, Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring

reels; 10 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 15 And to the manner born, it is a custom

More honoured in the breach than the

observance. This heavy-headed revel east and west Makes us traduced and taxed of other

nations. They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish

phrase Soil our addition; and indeed it takes 20 From our achievements, though performed at

height, The pith and marrow of our attribute. So, oft it chances in particular men, That for some vicious mole of nature in

them, As, in their birth—wherein they are not 25

guilty, Since nature cannot choose his originBy the o’ergrowth of some complexion Oft breaking down the pales and forts of

reason, Or by some habit that too much o’er-leavens The form of plausive manners, that these 30

men, Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, Being nature's livery, or fortune's star, Their virtues else—be they as pure as grace, As infinite as man may undergoShall in the general censure take corruption 35 From that particular fault. The dram of

eale

Enter Cook, my

Angels

Doth all the noble substance often dout

To his own scandal. Hor.

Look, my lord, it comes !

Enter Ghost. Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us! 40 Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned,

Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts

from hell,
Be thy intents wicked or charitable,
Thou comest in such a questionable shape
That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee

Hamlet,
King, father, royal Dane! 0, answer me!
Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell
Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death,
Have burst their cerements; why the

sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly inurned,
Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws,
To cast thee up again. What may this mean,
That thou, dead corse, again in complete

steel
Revisit’st 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

souls?
Say, why is this? Wherefore? What should
we do?

[Ghost beckons Hamlet.

50

55

Hor. It beckons you to go away with it,

As if it some impartment did desire

To you alone. Mar.

Look, with what courteous action 60 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 fear?
I do not set my life at a pin's fee,

65 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,
Which might deprive your sovereignty of

reason
And draw you into madness? Think of it.
The very place puts toys of desperation, 75
Without more motive, into every brain
That looks so many fathoms to the sea

And hears it roar beneath.
Ham.

It waves me still. Go on, I'll follow thee. Mar. You shall not go, my lord. Ham.

Hold off your hands. 80

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