Hor. Hail to your lordship!
Ham. I am glad to see you well.
Horatio!- or I do forget myself.
Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.
Ham. Sir, my good friend- I'll change that name with you.
And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?
Marcellus?
Mar. My good lord!
Ham. I am very glad to see you.- [To Bernardo] Good even, sir.-
But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?
Hor. A
truantdisposition, good my lord.
Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so,
Nor shall you do my ear that violence
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself. I know you are no
truant.
But what is your affair in Elsinore?
We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's
funeral.
Ham. I prithee do not mock me, fellow student.
I think it was to see my mother's wedding.
Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.
Ham. Thrift,
thrift, Horatio! The
funeral bak'd meats
Did
coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!
My father-
methinks I see my father.
Hor. O, where, my lord?
Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.
Hor. I saw him once. He was a
goodly king.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all.
I shall not look upon his like again.
Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
Ham. Saw? who?
Hor. My lord, the King your father.
Ham. The King my father?
Hor. Season your
admiration for a while
With an attent ear, till I may deliver
Upon the
witness of these gentlemen,
This
marvel to you.
Ham. For God's love let me hear!
Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen
(Marcellus and Bernardo) on their watch
In the dead vast and middle of the night
Been thus encount'red. A figure like your father,
Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe,
Appears before them and with
solemn march
Goes slow and
stately by them. Thrice he walk'd
By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes,
Within his truncheon's length;
whilst they distill'd
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me
In
dreadfulsecrecyimpart they did,
And I with them the third night kept the watch;
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The
apparition comes. I knew your father.
These hands are not more like.
Ham. But where was this?
Mar. My lord, upon the
platform where we watch'd.
Ham. Did you not speak to it?
Hor. My lord, I did;
But answer made it none. Yet once methought
It lifted up it head and did address
Itself to
motion, like as it would speak;
But even then the morning cock crew loud,
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away
And vanish'd from our sight.
Ham. 'Tis very strange.
Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true;
And we did think it writ down in our duty
To let you know of it.
Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs. But this troubles me.
Hold you the watch to-night?
Both [Mar. and Ber.] We do, my lord.
Ham. Arm'd, say you?
Both. Arm'd, my lord.
Ham. From top to toe?
Both. My lord, from head to foot.
Ham. Then saw you not his face?
Hor. O, yes, my lord! He wore his
beaver up.
Ham. What, look'd he frowningly.
Hor. A
countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
Ham. Pale or red?
Hor. Nay, very pale.
Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you?
Hor. Most constantly.
Ham. I would I had been there.
Hor. It would have much amaz'd you.
Ham. Very like, very like. Stay'd it long?
Hor. While one with
moderate haste might tell a hundred.
Both. Longer, longer.
Hor. Not when I saw't.
Ham. His beard was grizzled- no?
Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life,
A sable silver'd.
Ham. I will watch to-night.
Perchance 'twill walk again.
Hor. I warr'nt it will.
Ham. If it assume my noble father's person,
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you have
hitherto conceal'd this sight,
Let it be tenable in your silence still;
And
whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
Give it an understanding but no tongue.
I will requite your loves. So, fare you well.
Upon the
platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.
All. Our duty to your honour.
Ham. Your loves, as mine to you. Farewell.
Exeunt [all but Hamlet].
My father's spirit- in arms? All is not well.
I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come!
Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise,
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.
Exit.
Scene III.
Elsinore. A room in the house of Polonius.
Enter Laertes and Ophelia.
Laer. My necessaries are embark'd. Farewell.
And, sister, as the winds give benefit
And convoy is
assistant, do not sleep,
But let me hear from you.
Oph. Do you doubt that?
Laer. For Hamlet, and the
trifling of his favour,
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;
A
violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent- sweet, not lasting;
The
perfume and suppliance of a minute;
No more.
Oph. No more but so?
Laer. Think it no more.
For nature
crescent does not grow alone
In thews and bulk; but as this
temple waxes,
The
inward service of the mind and soul
Grows wide
withal. Perhaps he loves you now,
And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch
The
virtue of his will; but you must fear,
His
greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;
For he himself is subject to his birth.
He may not, as unvalued persons do,
Carve for himself, for on his choice depends
The safety and health of this whole state,
And
therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd
Unto the voice and yielding of that body
Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,
It fits your
wisdom so far to believe it
As he in his particular act and place
May give his
saying deed; which is no further
Than the main voice of Denmark goes
withal.
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain
If with too credent ear you list his songs,
Or lose your heart, or your
chaste treasure open
To his unmast'red importunity.
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.
Virtue itself scopes not calumnious strokes.
The
canker galls the infants of the spring
Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd,
And in the morn and
liquid dew of youth
Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Be wary then; best safety lies in fear.
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
Oph. I shall th' 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,
Whiles, like a puff'd and
reckless libertine,
Himself the
primrose path of dalliance treads
And recks not his own rede.
Laer. O, fear me not!
Enter Polonius.
I stay too long. But here my father comes.
A double
blessing is a double grace;
Occasion smiles upon a second leave.
Pol. Yet here, Laertes? Aboard,
aboard, for shame!
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
And you are stay'd for. There- my
blessing with thee!
And these few precepts in thy memory
Look thou
character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar:
Those friends thou hast, and their
adoption tried,
Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,
Bear't that th' opposed may
beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice;
Take each man's
censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the
apparel oft proclaims the man,
And they in France of the best rank and station
Are most select and
generous, chief in that.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of
husbandry.