Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to. Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech, my 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, daugther,
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 broker's
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,
Have you so slander any moment's leisure,
As to give words or talk with the lord Hamlet.
Look to't, I charge you; come your ways.
Oph. I shall obey, my Lord.

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.

1

Hor. Indeed? I heard it not; it then draws near the season,

Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.

[A 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,

The pith and marrow of our attribute.
So, oft it chances in particular men,

That, for some vicious mole of nature in them,
As, in their birth, (wherein they are not guilty,
Since nature cannot choose his origin,)
By the o'er-growth of some complexion,
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason;
Or by some habit, that too much o'er-leavens
The form of plausive manners;-that these men,-
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect; ·

Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,
Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace,
As infinite as man may undergo,)

Shall in the general censure take corruption
From that particular fault: The dram of base
Doth all the noble substance often dout,
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 à 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,
Have burst their cerements! why the sepulchre ;
Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To cast thee up again! What may this mean,
That thou, dead corse, again, in cómplete 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 2
Hor. It beckons you to go away with it,
As if it some impartment did desire

To you alone.

Mar. Look, with what courteous action

It waves you to a more removed ground:
But do not go with it.

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 piu'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,
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.
Ham. Hold off your hands.
Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not go.
Ham. My fate cries out,

And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Némean lion's nerve.

-

[Ghost beckons.

Still am I call'd:-unhand me, Gentlemen ;

[Breaking from them. By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets

Har. He waxes desperate with imagination. Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him. Hor. Have after: To what issue will this

Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? speak, I'll

Ghost. Mark me.

go no further.

Ham. I will.

Ghost. My hour is almost come,

When I to sulphurous 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,