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With almost all the holy rows of heaven.
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
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
Enter Cook, my
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
[Ghost beckons Hamlet.
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.
No, by no means.
Why, what should be the fear?
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.
And hears it roar beneath.
It waves me still. Go on, I'll follow thee. Mar. You shall not go, my lord. Ham.
Hold off your hands. 80