Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgement. But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy : And they in France, of the best rank and station, For loan oft loses both itself and friend; Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. Pol. The time invites you; go, your servants tend. Laer. Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well What I have said to you. Oph. 'Tis in my memory lock'd, And you yourself shall keep the key of it. Laer. Farewell. [Exit LAERTES. Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you? Oph. So please you, something touching the lord. Hamlet. Pol. Marry, well bethought: 'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late Given private time to you and you yourself Have of your audience been most free and bounteous: And that in way of caution,) I must tell you, Oph. He hath, my lord, of late, made many tenders Of his affection to me. Pol. Affection? puh! 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 (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, Wronging it thus,) you'll tender me a fool. Oph. My lord, he hath impórtun'd me with love, Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to. lord, With almost all the holy vows of heaven. Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know, 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, Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence; 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, Than may be given you: In few, Ophelia, Do not believe his vows: for they are brokers Not of that die which their investments show, But mere implorators of unholy suits, Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds, The better to beguile. This is for all, I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth, SCENE IV.-The Platform. [Exeunt. 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. Hor. Indeed? I heard it not; it then draws near the season, Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. [4 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 wassel, and the swaggering up-spring reels; 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, And to the manner born,-it is a custom More honour'd in the breach, than the observance, This heavy-headed revel, east and west, Makes us traduc'd, and tax'd of other nations : They clepe us, drunkards, and with swinish phrase Soil our addition: and, indeed it takes From our achievements, though perform'd at height, That, for some vicious mole of nature in them, Shall in the general censure take corruption To his own scandal. Enter Ghost. Hor. Look, my lord, it comes! Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us!Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd, 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: O, answer me: Let me not burst in ignorance! but tell, Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death, Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws, With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? As if it some impartment did desire To you alone. Mar. Look, with what courteous action It waves you to a more removed ground: 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; 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, |