We do it wrong, being so majestical, To offer it the show of violence; For it is, as the air, invulnerable, And our vain blows malicious mockery. Ber. It was about to speak when the cock crew. Ho. And then it started, like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons. I have heard, The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat Awake the god of day; and, at his warning, Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, The extravagant and erring 1 spirit hies To his confine; and of the truth herein This present object made probation. Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock. Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning singeth all night long; And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. Ho. So have I heard, and do in part believe it. But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill: I Wandering. 2 Strikes with diseases. Break we our watch up; and, by my advice, Mar. Let's do 't, I pray; and I this morning know Where we shall find him most convenient. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The same. A room of state in the same. Enter KING, QUEEN, HAMLET, POLONIUS, LAERTES, VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, Lords, and Attendants. King. Though yet of Hamlet, our dear brother's death, The memory be green, and that it us befitted To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow of woe; Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature, In equal scale weighing delight and dole,1— Or thinking, by our late dear brother's death, 3 To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,- 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? You told us of some suit; what is 't, Laertes? You cannot speak of reason to the Dane, And lose your voice. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes, That shall not be my offer, not thy asking? The head is not more native to the heart, Laer. My dread lord, Your leave and favor to return to France; From whence though willingly I came to Denmark, To show my duty in your coronation ; 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. King. Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius? Po. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave By laborsome 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. But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,- [aside. King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you? Ham. Not so, my lord; I am too much i' the sun. Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. Do not, for ever, with thy vailed lids,1 Seek for thy noble father in the dust. Thou know'st, 'tis common; all that live must die, Ham. Ay, madam, it is common. If it be, Why seems it so particular with thee? Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems. 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forced breath, i Dejected eyes. |