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Do not, for ever, with thy vailed lids 5
Seek for thy noble father in the dust :
Thou know'st, 'tis common; all, that live, must

Passing through nature to eternity.

Ham. Ay, madam, it is common.

Why seems it so particular with thee?

Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is ; I know not

If it be,


'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected haviour of the visage,
Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief,
That can denote me truly : These, indeed, seem,
For they are actions that a man might play:
But I have that within, which passeth show;
These, but the trappings and the suits of woe.
King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your na-

ture, Hamlet,
To give these mourning duties to your father :
But, you must know, your father lost a father;
That father lost his ; and the survivor bound
In filial obligation, for some term
To do obsequious sorrow : But to perséver
In obstinate condolement, is a course
Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief:
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,
A heart unfortified, or mind impatient;
An understanding simple and unschool'd :
For what, we know, must be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
Take it to heart? Fye! 'tis a fault to heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,

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To reason most absurd; whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first corse, till he that died to-day,
This must be so.

We pray you, throw to earth
This unprevailing woe; and think of us
As of a father : for let the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our throne;
And, with no less nobility of love,
Than that which dearest father bears his son,
Do I impart toward you.


In going back to school in Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our desire :
And, we beseech


to remain
Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.
Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers,

I pray thee, stay with us, go not to Wittenberg.
Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam.

King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply;
Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come;
This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof,
No jocund health, that Denmark drinks to-day,
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell ;
And the king's rouse ? the heaven shall bruit again,
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.
[E.ceunt King, Queen, Lords, &c. POLONIUS,

Han. O, that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve' itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon ''gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!
How weary, stale, flat, and

Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fye on 't! O fye! 'tis an unweeded garden,


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That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in na

Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
But two months dead! – nay, not so much, not

So excellent a king ; that was, to this,
Hyperion ? to a satyr: so loving to my mother,
That he might not beteem 3 the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
Must I remember? wny, she would hang on him,
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on: And yet, within a month,
Let me not think on 't; -- Frailty, thy name is wo-

i man!
A little month; or ere those shoes were old,
With which she follow'd my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears ; why she, even she,
O heaven! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,
Would have mourn'd longer,-married with my

My father's brother; but no more like my father,
Than I to Hercules: Within a month ;
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left-the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married : O most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets !
It is not, nor it cannot come to, good;
But break, my heart: for I must hold my tongue!

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Hor. Hail to your lordship?

I am glad to see you well :
Horatio, --- or I do forget myself.

Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant

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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; good even,

But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg ?

Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.

Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so: Nor shall

you do mine 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 pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-stu

dent; I think, it was to see my mother's wedding. Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard

upon. Han. Thrift, thrift, Horatio ! the funeral bak'd

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
'Would I had met my dearest 4 foe in heaven
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio !-
My father, -Methinks, I see my father.

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,

The king my father!


4 Chiefest.

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licr. Season your admiration for a while With an attent' ear ; till I

may deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.

For Heaven's love, let me hear.
Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,
In the dead waist and middle of the night,
Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,
Armed at point, exactly, cap-à-pé,
Appears before them, and, with solemn march,
Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd,
By their oppress'd and fear-surprized 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 dreadful secrecy impart 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

Ham. Did you not speak to it?

My lord, I did;
But answer made it none: yet once, methought,
It lifted up its 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.
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'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.

5 Attentive.

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