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Ham. What, looked he frowningly t

Hor. A countenance more In sorrow than in anger.

Ham. Pale or red t

Hor. Nay, very pale.

Ham. And fixed his eyes upon you?

Hor. Most constantly.

Ham. I would I had been there.

Hor. It would have much amazed you.

Ham. Very like,
Very like. Stayed it long?

Hor. While one, with moderate haste,
Might tell a hundred.

Mar. Longer, longer.

Hor. Not when I saw it.

Ham. His beard was grizzled ?—no?

Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, A sable silvered.

Ham. I will watch to-night; Perchance 'twill walk again.

Hor. I warrant 'twill.

Ham. If it assume my noble father's person, I'll speak to it, though hell itself should cape, And bid me hold my peace. [Crosses L.J I pray

you all, [Returns to R.

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

Hor. [r.] Our duty to your honor.

Ham. [r.] Your loves, as mine to you.

[Exeunt alt but Hamlet, R. My father's spirit [c.1 in arms! all is not well; I doubt some foul play—would the night were come!

Till then, sit still, my soul; [l.] foul deeds will rise,

Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. [Exit L.

Scene III—An Apartment in Polonius' Hoiuse.

Enter Laertes and Ophelia, R.

Laer. [r.] My necessaries are embarked; farewell!

And, sister, as the winds give benefit,
Pray let me hear from you.

Oph. [R.] Do you doubt that?

Laer. For Hamlet, and the tnfling of his favor, Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood. He may not, as unvalued persons do, Carve for himself; for on his chowe depends The safety and the health of the whole. state. Then weigh what loss your honor may sustain, If with too credent ear you list his songs. Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister; And keep you in 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.

Oph. [R.c.] 1 shall the effect of this good lesson keep

As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,

Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,

Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;

Whilst, like a reckless libertine,

Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,

And recks not his own rede.

Laer. [c. ] Oh, fear me not!
I stay too long. But here my father comes.
Enter Polomus, L.

Pol. [l. C.] Yet here, Laertes? aboard, aboard,
for shame;
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
And you are staid for.

Laer. Most humbly do I take my lean'e, my lord.
Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well
What I have said to you.

Oph. 'Tis in my memory locked,
And you yourself shall keep the key of it.

Laer. Farewell. [Exit L.

Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you f

Oph. So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.

Pol. Tc.] Marry, well bethought;
'Tis told to me, he hath very oft of late
Given private time to you; and you yourself
Have iif your audience been most free and boun-
teous.

If it be so (as so 'tis put on me,
And that in way of caution), I must tell you,
You do not understand yourself so clearly
As it behoves my daughter and your honor.
What is lietween you? give me up the truth.

Oph. [c.] He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders Of his affection to me.

Pol. Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl,

Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.
Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?
Oph. I do not know, my lord, what I should
think.

Pol. Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby;

That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay, Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more

dearly, Or you'll tender me a fool.

Oph. My lord, he hath importuned me with

love,

In honorable fashion.
Pol. Aye, fashion you may call it; Jf° to- S° t0-
Oph. And hath given countenance t( his speech,
my lord,

With almost all the holy vows of heaveK
Pol. Aye, springes to catch woodco(ks. I do

know, \
When the blood burns, how prodigal the .oul
Lends the tongue vows.
This is for all— V.
I would not, in plain terms, from this time fTth
Have you so slander any moment's leisure
As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlo
Look to't, I charge you; [crosses R.] come y'r

ways.

Oph. [k.] I shall obey, my lord. [Exeunt it

Scene IV.—The Platform.
Enter Hamlet, Horatio and Marcellus, R
Ham. [r.] The air bites shrewdly; it is

cold. [ Goes

Hor. [rj It is a nipping and an eager air.
Ham. What hour now t
Hor. [c.] I think it lacks of twelve.
Mar. [r. C.] No, it is struck.
Hor. I heard it not; it then draws near

season

ve

the

». ******************************************** *^********* ************************* ***."^^^^^^ Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. [Flour- As hardy as the Nemcan lion's nerve.

ish of trumpets and drums, and ordnance shot

off within.'] What does this mean, my lord?

Ham. [ L. ) The king doth wake to-night, and takes his rouse; 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. Aye, marry, is't; But to my mind—though I am native here, And to the manner born—it is a custom More honored in the breach than the observance.

Enter Ghost, L.

Hor. [r.] Look, my lord, it comes! Ham. [r. C. Horatio stands about two yards from the back of Hamlet; Marcellus about the same distance from Hamlet, up the stage.] Angels and ministers of grace defend us!

[ghost stops, L. C. 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 com'st in such a questionable shape,
That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet,
King, father, Royal Dane! Oh, 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 op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To cast thee up again! What may this mean,
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel,
Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon,
Milking 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 1 what should we do?

[ghost beckons.

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
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- [taking Hamlet's arm.] Do not, my lord.

Ham. Why, what should be the fear i
I do not set my life at a pin's fee,
And for my soul, what can it do to that,
Being a thing immortal as itself?
It waves me forth again; 1'11 follow it.

[ghost beckons. Still am I called—unhand me, gentlemen: By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.

[Breaks away from them. I say away; go on, I'll follow thee. [Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet, L. Horatio and MarCellus slowly follow.

Scene V.—A remote part of the Platform. Re-enter Ghost and Hamlet from L. U. E. to L. C.

Ham. fc.] Whither wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no farther.

Ghost. [l. C.j Mark me.

Ham. [r. c.j I will.

Ghost. My hour is almost come,
When I to sulph'rous and tormenting flames
Must render up myself.

Ham. Alas, poor ghost!

Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing To what I shall unfold.

Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear.

Ghost. So art thou to revenge when thou shalt hear.

Ham. What?

Ghost. I am thy father's spirit,
Doomed for a certain term to walk the night,
And for the day confined to fast in fires,
Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
Are burnt and purged awav. But that I am for-
bid

To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young
blood;

Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres;

Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine;
But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood; list, list, oh, list!
If thou didst ever thy dear father love—
Ham. Oh, heaven!

Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural

murder. Ham. Murder?

Ghost. Murder most foul as in the best it is;
But this most foul, strange and unnatural.
Ham. Haste me to know it, that I with wings
as swift

As meditation or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.

Ghost. I find thee apt.
Now, Hamlet, hear:

'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,

Hor. What if it tempt you toward the flood, my A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark

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I made to her in marriage; and to decline
Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor
To those of mine!

but soft, methinks I scent the morning air—
Brief let me be: sleeping within mine orchard,
My custom always of the afternoon,
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of cursed hebenon in a phial,
And in the porches of mino ears did pour
The leperous distillment, whose effect
Holds such an enmity with blood of man,
That swift as quicksilver it courses through
The natural gates and alleys of the body;
So it did mine.

Thus was I sleeping by a brother's hand,
Of life, of crown, of queen at once dispatched!
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
No reck'ning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head!
Ham. Oh, horrible! Oh, horrible! most horri-
ble!

Ghost. If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damned incest.
But howsoever thou pursuest this act,
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
Against thy mother aught; leave her to heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To goad and sting her. Fare thee well at once!
The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his uncffectual fire;
Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me.

[ Vanishes L. c.

Ham. [r.] Hold, hold, my heart; And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up. [c] Remember thee? Aye, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember theef Tea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all forms, all pressures past, And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmixed with baser matter; yes, by heaven, I have sworn it.

Hor. [within, L.] My lord, my lord!

Mar. [within.] Lord Hamlet!

Hor. [within.] Heaven secure him!

Ham. So be it!

Hor. [within.] Hillo, ho, ho, my lord!
Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come!

Enter Horatio and Marcellus, L. U. E.

Mar. Jr. c.l How is'I, my noble lord?

Hor. [r.. c] What news, my lord f

Ham. [c] Oh, wonderful!

Hor. Good my lord, tell it.

Ham. No; you will reveal it.

Hor. Not I, my lord, by heaven.

Ham. How say you then; would heart of mau once think it f— But you'll be secret f

Hor. Aye, by heaven, my lord.

Ham. There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark, But he's an arrant knave.

Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave, To tell us this.

Ham. Why, right; you arc in the right;
And so, without more circumstance at all,
I hold it fit that we shake hands and part;

You as your business and desire shall point you;
For every man hath business and desire,
Such as it is; and for my own poor part,
I will go pray.
Hor. These are but wild and whirling words,
my lord.

Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily.
Hor. There's no offense, my lord.
Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Ho-
ratio,

And much offense, too, [takes his hand] touching this vision here.

It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you!

For you desire to know what is between us,

O'ermaster it as you may. [Part.] And now, good friends, [Crosses L.

As you are friends, scholars and soldiers,

Give me one poor request.
Hor. What is't, my lord?

We will.

Ham. [c] Never make known what you have

seen to-night Hor. and Mar. My lord, we will not. Ham. Nay, but swear it. Hor. Propose the oath, my lord. Ham. Never to speak of this that you have

seen; [r.] Swear by my sword.

Ghost, [beneath.] Swear!

Hor. Oh, day and night, but this is wond'rous

strange!

Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.

There are more things in heav'n and earth,
Horatio,

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
But come;—

Here, [all three stand, R. ] as before, never, so help

you mercy! How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself— As I, perchance, hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on— That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, With arms encumbered thus, or this head-shake, Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, As, "Well, well, we know ;''—or, "We could, an if we would ;" or, " If we list to speak;" or, " There be, an if they might;" Or such ambiguous giving out, to note That you know aught of me ;—this do ye swear, So grace and mercy at your most need help you!

Ghost, [beneath.] Swear!

Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! [All at c] So, gentlemen, With all my love I do commend me to you; And what so poor a man as Hamlet is,

[Takes a hand of each. May do to express his love and friending to you, Heaven willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together; [ Crosses L. And still your fingers on your lips, I pray. The time is out of joint;—oh, cursed spite, That ever I was born to set it right! [Exeunt L.

ACT II.

Scene I.—An Apartment i n Polonius' House.
Enter Polonius, L., and Ophelia, R.
Pol. [ i.. ] How now, Ophelia f what's the

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Oph. [r.] Oh, my lord, my lord, I havo been

so affrighted! Pol. With what, in the name of heaven? Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,

Lord Hamlet—with his doublet all unbraced,

No hat upon his head,

Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other— He comes before me.

Pol. [c.] Mad for thy love?

Oph. fc.] My lord, I do not know; But, truly, I do fear it.

Pol. What said he?

Oph. He took me by the wrist, and held me hard;

Then goes he to the length of all his arm,
And with his other hand thus o'er his brow,
He falls to such perusal of my face,
As he would draw it. Long stayed he so;
At last, a little shaking of mine arm,
And thrice his head thus waving up and down,
He raised a sigh so piteous and profound,
As it did seem to shatter all his bulk,
And end his being; that done, he lets me go,
And, with his head over his shoulder turned,
He seemed to find his way without his eyes;
For out o' doors he went without their helps,
And, to the last, bended their light on me.
Pol. Come, go with me; I will go seek the
king;

This is the very ecstasy of love.
What, have you given him any hard words of
late?

Oph. No, my good lord; but, as you did command,

I did repel his letters, and denied
His access to me.

Pol. That hath made him mad.
Come, go we to the king;

This must be known; which, being kept close,

might move More grief to hide, than hate to utter love.

[Exeunt L.

Scene II.—The Palace. Enter the King, Queen, Rosenceantz, Guild

ENSTERN, L., FRANCISCO and BERNARDO, R.

King. [c.] Welcome, dear Eosencrantz and Gmldenstern 1 Moreover that we did much long to see you, The need we have to use you did provide Our hasty sending. Something have you heard Of Hamlet's transformation; What it should be,

More than his father's death, that thus hath put him

So much from the understanding of himself,

I cannot dream of; I entreat you both,

That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court

Some little time; so, by your companies,

To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather

Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him thus,

That, opened, lies within our remedy.

Queen. [c.] Good gentlemen, he hath much talked of you; And sure I am two men there are not living To whom he more adheres. If it will please you So to expend your time with us awhile, Your visitation shall receive such thanks As fits a king's remembrance. •

Ros. [l.] Both your majesties

Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,
Put your dread pleasures more into command
Than to entreaty.

Guil. [l.] But we both obey;
And here give up ourselves, in the full bunt,
To lay our service freely at your feet.

King. Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.

Queen. I do beseech you instantly to visit My too much changed son. Go, some of you, And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.

[Exeunt all but .king and Queen, R.

Enter Polonius, L.

Pol. [l. C.] I now do think (or else this brain of mine

Hunts not the trail of policy so sure
As it hath used to do) that I have found
The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.
King. [c.] Oh, speak of that; that do I long
to near.

Pol. My liege and madame, to expostulate
What majesty should be, what duty jut,
Why day is day, night, night, and time is time,
Were nothing but to waste night, day and time.
Therefore—since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes—
I will be brief: your noble son is mad;
Mad call I it; for, to define true madness,
What is't, but to be nothing else bat mad?
But let that go.

Queen. f R. C.] More matter, with less art.

Pol. Madame, I swear I use no art at all.
That he is mad, 'tis true; 'tis true, 'tis pity,
And pity 'tis, 'tis true; a foolish figure;
But farewell it, for I will use no art.
Mad let us grant him, then; and now remains,
That we find out the cause of this effect;
Or, rather say, the cause of this defect;
For this effect, defective, comes by cause;
Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.
Perpend—

I have a daughter; have, while she is mine;

Who, in her duty and obedience, mark,

Hath given me this; [shows a paper] now

gather, and surmise. [Reads.] "To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified Ophelia,"—That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; beautified is a vile phrase, but you shall hear:

[Reads.] "In her excellent white bosom these," etc.

Queen. Came these from Hamlet to her? Pol. Good madame, stay awhile; I will be faithful—

[Reads.] "Doubt thou the stars are fire,

Doubt that the sun doth move,
Doubt truth to be a liar—
But never doubt I love.

"Oh, dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have no art to reckon my groans; but that I lovo thee best, oh, most best, believe it! Adieu.

"Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him, Hamlet." This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me; And more above hath his solicitings, As they fell out by time, by means and place, All given to mine ear.

King. How hath she Received his love?

Pol. What do you think of me?

.Kin<7. As of a man faithful and honorable.
Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might
you think,

When I had seen this hot love on the wing
(As I perceived it, I must tell you that,
Before my daughter told me), what might you
Or my dear majesty, your queen here, think,
If I had played the desk or table-book,
Or looked upon this love with idle sight,
What might you think? No, I went round to
work,

And my young mistress thus did I bespeak:
Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy sphere;
This must not be. And then I precepts gave her,
That she should lock herself from his resort,
Admit no messengers, receive no tokens;
Which done, she took the fruits of my advice,
And he, repulsed (a short tale to make),
Fell into a sadness;
Thence into a weakness;
Thence to a lightness; and by this declension
Into the madness wherein now he raves,
And all we mourn for.

King. Do you think 'tis this?

Queen. It may be, very likely.

Pol. Hath there been such a time (I'd fain know that) That I have positively said, 'Tis so, When it proved otherwise f

King. Not that I know.

Pol. Take this from this, if this be otherwise. [Pointing to his head and shoulders. If circumstances lead me I wil) fmd Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed Within the centre.

King. How may we try it further?

Pol. You know sometimes he walks for hours together Here in the lobby.

Queen. So he does indeed.

Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him;

Mark the encounter: if he love her not,
And be not from his reason fallen thereon,
Let me be no assistant for a state,
But keep a farm and carters. [Crosses L.

King, [r.j We will try it.
Queen, [r.j But look, where sadly the poor

wretch comes reading!
Pol. Away, I do beseech you; both away!
I'll board him presently.

[Exeunt King and Queen, R. S. E. Enter Hamlet, M. D., reading. [r. c] How does my good Lord Hamlet tf Ham. [L. c] Excellent well. Pol. [c] Do you know me, my lord? Ham. [r. c.J Excellent well; you are a fishmonger. Pol. Not I, my lord.

Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man. Pol. Honest, my lord f

Ham. Aye, sir! to be honest as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.

Pol. That's very true, my lord.

Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god kissing carrion— Have you a daughter i

Pol. I have, my lord.

Ham. Let her not walk i' the sun; conception is a blessing; but as your daughter may conceive —friend, look to't. [Turns to the R. and reads.

Pol. fc, aside.] Still harping on my daughter! yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a fishmonger. I'll speak to him again. \ Aloud.] What do you read, my lord?

Ham. [r.j Words, words, words!

Pol. What is the matter, my lord f

Ham. Between who f

Pol. I mean the matter that you read, mv lord f

Ham. [c] Slanders, sir; for the satirical rogue says here, that old men have gray beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber and plum-tree gum; and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams; all of which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down; for yourself, sir, shall be old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward.

Pol. [aside.] Though this be madness, yet there's method in't. [Aloud. ] Will you walk out of the air, my lord f

Ham. [r.] Into my grave!

Pol. [aside.] Indeed, that is out o'the air. How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter, [c. Aloud.] My honorable lord, [r. C.j I will most humbly take my leave of you.

Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more willingly part withal; except my life, except my life, except my life. [Crosses R.

Pol. Fare you well, my lord.

Ham. [aside.] These tedious old fools!

Enter Rosencrantz and Gujldenstern, L.

Pol. You go to seek the Lord Hamlet? there he is.

Ros. [L.] Heaven save you, sir!

[Exit Polonius, I

Guil. [l.] My honored lord!

Ham. My ^excelleut good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern f [Crosses c.J Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both t What news?

Ros. [l. cl None, my lord; but that the world's grown honest.

Ham. Then is doomsday near; but your news is not true. In the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore f

Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.

Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks! but I thank you. Were you not sent for f Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, come; deal justly with me; come, nay, speak.

Guil. [r. C.j What should we say, my lord?

Ham. Anything—but to the purpose. You were sent for, and there is a kind of confession in your looks which your modesties have not craft enough to color; I know the good king and queen have sent for you.

Ros. To what end, my lord?

Ham. That you must teach me. But let me conjure you, by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for or no?

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