The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

Hor. Be rul’d. You shall not go.

Ham. My fate cries out

And makes each petty artire in this body As hardy as the Nemean lion’s nerve.

[Ghost beckons.]

Still am I call’d. Unhand me, gentlemen.

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.

Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination.

Mar. Let’s follow. ‘Tis not fit thus to obey him.

Hor. Have after. To what issue wail 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.

Elsinore. The Castle. Another part of the fortifications.

Enter Ghost and Hamlet.

Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak! I’ll go no further.

Ghost. Mark me.

Ham. 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,

Doom’d for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confin’d to fast in fires, 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 combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand an end Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.

But this eternal blazon must not be

To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!

If thou didst ever thy dear father love-Ham. O God!

Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murther.

Ham. Murther?

Ghost. Murther 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 rots 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. O my prophetic soul!

My uncle?

Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wit, 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 of the afternoon,

Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,

With juice of cursed hebona in a vial, And in the porches of my ears did pour The leperous distilment; whose effect Holds such an enmity with blood of man That swift as quicksilverr 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.

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, Unhous’led, disappointed, unanel’d,

No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head.

Ham. O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!

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 prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once.

The glowworm 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? Hold, hold, my heart!

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 records, 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!

My tables! Meet it is I set it down

That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark. [Writes.]

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!

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Mar. Lord Hamlet!

Hor. Heaven secure him!

Ham. So be it!

Mar. Illo, ho, ho, my lord!

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

Mar. How is’t, my noble lord?

Hor. What news, my lord?

Mar. O, wonderful!

Hor. Good my lord, tell it.

Ham. No, you will reveal it.

Hor. Not I, my lord, by heaven!

Mar. Nor I, my lord.

Ham. How say you then? Would heart of man once think it?

But you’ll be secret?

Both. Ay, by heaven, my lord.

Ham. There’s neer 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 are 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 desires shall point you, For every man hath business and desire, Such as it is; and for my own poor part, Look you, I’ll go pray.

Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.

Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily; Yes, faith, heartily.

Hor. There’s no offence, my lord.

Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, And much offence too. Touching this vision here, It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you.

For your desire to know what is between us, O’ermaster’t as you may. And now, good friends, As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, Give me one poor request.

Hor. What is’t, my lord? We will.

Ham. Never make known what you have seen tonight.

Both. My lord, we will not.

Ham. Nay, but swear’t.

Hor. In faith,

My lord, not I.

Mar. Nor I, my lord-in faith.

Ham. Upon my sword.

Mar. We have sworn, my lord, already.

Ham. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.

Ghost cries under the stage.

Ghost. Swear.

Ham. Aha boy, say’st thou so? Art thou there, truepenny?

Come on! You hear this fellow in the cellarage.

Consent to swear.

Hor. Propose the oath, my lord.

Ham. Never to speak of this that you have seen.

Swear by my sword.

Ghost. [beneath] Swear.

Ham. Hic et ubique? Then we’ll shift our ground.

Come hither, gentlemen,

And lay your hands again upon my sword.

Never to speak of this that you have heard: Swear by my sword.

Ghost. [beneath] Swear by his sword.

Ham. Well said, old mole! Canst work i’ th’ earth so fast?

A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends.”

Hor. O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!

Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

But come!

Here, 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 encumb’red 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 is not to do, So grace and mercy at your most need help you, Swear.

Ghost. [beneath] Swear.

[They swear.]

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

May do t’ express his love and friending to you, God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together; And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.

The time is out of joint. O cursed spite That ever I was born to set it right!

Nay, come, let’s go together.

Exeunt.

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Act II. Scene I.

Elsinore. A room in the house of Polonius.

Enter Polonius and Reynaldo.

Pol. Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo.

Rey. I will, my lord.

Pol. You shall do marvell’s wisely, good Reynaldo, Before You visit him, to make inquire Of his behaviour.

Rey. My lord, I did intend it.

Pol. Marry, well said, very well said. Look you, sir, Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; And how, and who, what means, and where they keep, What company, at what expense; and finding By this encompassment and drift of question That they do know my son, come you more nearer Than your particular demands will touch it.

Take you, as ‘twere, some distant knowledge of him; As thus, ‘I know his father and his friends, And in part him.’ Do you mark this, Reynaldo?

Rey. Ay, very well, my lord.

Pol. ‘And in part him, but,’ you may say, ‘not well.

But if’t be he I mean, he’s very wild Addicted so and so’; and there put on him What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank As may dishonour him-take heed of that; But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips As are companions noted and most known To youth and liberty.

Rey. As gaming, my lord.

Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling, Drabbing. You may go so far.

Rey. My lord, that would dishonour him.

Pol. Faith, no, as you may season it in the charge.

You must not put another scandal on him, That he is open to incontinency.

That’s not my meaning. But breathe his faults so quaintly That they