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. 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(33) to a more removèd ground :
But do not go with it.

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;
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,

burton & Mason

"write deprave which I profer- It reads now as if you dreacion

Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason,
And draw(34) you into madness? think of it:
The very place puts toys of desperation,
Without more motive, into every brain,
That looks so many fathoms to the sea, ught be deprecis &; cas

And hears it roar beneath.

Ham.

Go on; I'll follow thee.

meant

It waves me still.

Hold off your hands.

Mar. You shall not go, my lord.
Ham.

Hor. Be rul'd; you shall not go.
Ham.

My fate cries out,

And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Némean lion's nerve.—
Still am I call'd:-unhand me, gentlemen ;-

[Ghost beckons.

[Breaking from them.

By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me :-
I say, away!-Go on; I'll follow thee.

[Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet.
Ilor. He waxes desperate with imagination.
Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.
Hor. Have after.-To what issue will this come?
Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
Hor. Heaven will direct it.

Mar.

Nay, let's follow him. [Exeunt.

SCENE V. The same. A more remote part of the platform.

Enter Ghost and HAMLET.

Ham. Where wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no further.
Ghost. Mark me.

My hour is almost come,

When I to sulphurous 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;

Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,

And for the day confin'd to fast in fires, (35)

Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid
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 combinèd locks to part,

And each particular hair to stand on end,(36)

Like quills upon the fretful porpentine:

But this eternal blazon must not be

To ears of flesh and blood.—List, list, O, list!—(37)
If thou didst ever thy dear father love,—

Ham. O God!

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't, that I, with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love,

May sweep to my revenge.

Ghost.

I find thee apt;

And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed

That roots(38) itself in ease on Lethe wharf,

Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, Hear:
'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,
A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process of my death

Rankly abus'd: but know, thou noble youth,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life

Now wears his crown.

Ham.

My uncle!

O my prophetic soul!

Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
With witchcraft of his wit,(39) with traitorous gifts,-
O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power

So to seduce!-won to his shameful lust
The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen:
O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!
From me, whose love was of that dignity,
That it went hand in hand even with the vow
I made to her in marriage; and to decline
Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor
To those of mine!

But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,

Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven;
So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,
Will sate itself in a celestial bed,

And prey on garbage.

But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air;
Brief let me be.-Sleeping within my orchard,

My custom always in the afternoon,
Upon my sécure hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of cursèd hebenon in a vial,
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
The leperous distilment; 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;
And, with a sudden vigour, it doth posset
And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine;
And a most instant tetter bark'd about,

Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust
All my smooth body.

(41)

Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand
Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd:
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
Unhousell'd, disappointed, unanel'd ;(40)
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head:
O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not ;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damnèd incest.
But, howsoever thou pursu'st 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 prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!
The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,
And gins to pale his uneffectual fire:

Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me.

[Exit.

Ham. O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else?

And shall I couple hell?—O, fie !—Hold, my heart ;(42)

And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,

But bear me stiffly up.-Remember thee!

Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat

In this distracted globe. Remember thee!

Yea, from the table of my memory

I'll wipe away all trivial fond recórds,

All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
That youth and observation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven!—
O most pernicious woman!

O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain !(43)
My tables,-meet it is I set it down,

That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain ;
At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark:
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word;
It is, "Adieu, adieu! remember me:"
I have sworn't.

Hor. [within] My lord, my lord,

Mar. [within]

Hor. [within]

Mar. [within] So be it !(44)

[Writing.

Lord Hamlet,

Heaven secure him!

Hor. [within] Illo, ho, ho, my lord!

Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come.

Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.

Mar. How is't, my noble lord?

Hor.

Hor.

What news, my lord?

Ham. O, wonderful!

Good my lord, tell it.

Nor I, my lord.

Ham. No; you'll reveal it.

Hor. Not I, my lord, by heaven.

Mar.

Ham. How say you, then; would heart of man once

think it?

But you'll be secret?

Hor. Mar. Ay, 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're i' 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,—