King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me!
Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell
Why thy canóniz'd bones, hearsed in death,
Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To cast thee up again. What may this mean,
That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel
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?

Hor. It beckons you to go away with it,
As if it some impartment did desire
To you alone.

Mar.

45

50

55

[Ghost beckons Hamlet.]

Look, with what courteous action It waves you to a more removed ground:

Ham. It will not speak; then will I follow it.
Hor. Do not, my lord.

Ham.

60

Why, what should be the fear?

65

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,

70

Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason
And draw 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
And hears it roar beneath.
Ham.

It waves me still.

Go on; I'll follow thee.
Mar. You shall not go, my lord.
Ilam.

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

75

And makes each petty artery in this body

As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.

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.

Hor. Mar.

Ilor.

Mar.

llor.

Mar.

85

[Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet.]

He waxes desperate with imagination.
Let's follow; 't is not fit thus to obey him.
Have after. To what issue will this come?
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
Heaven will direct it.

Nay, let's follow him.

SCENE V-[Another part of the platform.]

Enter Ghost and Hamlet.

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

Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing

To what I shall unfold.

Ham.

Alas, poor ghost!

Speak; I am bound to hear.

Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.

90

[Exeunt.]

5

10

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

Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murther.
Ham. Murther!

25

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,

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 mine 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.

Mine uncle!

O my prophetic soul!

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 moved,
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 mine orchard,
My custom always in the afternoon,

Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of cursed 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.

Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand

Of life, of crown, and queen, at once despatch'd:
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd,

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 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 glow-worm shows the matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire:

Adieu, adieu! Hamlet, remember me.

Ilam. O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else?
And shall I couple hell? O, fie! 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, 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'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. & Mar. [Within] My lord, my lord,

100

105

[Writing.]

110

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

But you'll be secret?

Both.

Ay, by heaven, my lord.

Ilam. 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.

And so, without more circumstance at all,

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120

125

Why, right; you are i' the right;

I hold it fit that we shake hands and part:

You, as your business and desires shall point you;
For every man has business and desire,

130

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

Ham. I'm sorry they offend you, reartily;

There's no offence, my lord.

135

Yes, 'faith, heartily.

Hor.
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.

Hor.

My lord, not I.