ACT I. | |
Scene IV. The platform. | |
| [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. |
Hor. | |
| Indeed? I heard it not: 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 wassail, 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'ergrowth 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 eale |
| Doth all the noble substance often doubt |
| To his own scandal. |
Hor. | |
| Look, my lord, it comes! |
| [Enter Ghost.] |
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 a 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 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? |
| [Ghost beckons Hamlet.] |
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 will I follow it. |
Hor. | |
| Do not, my lord. |
Ham. | |
| Why, what should be the fear? |
| 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 |
| 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 fadoms 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 Nemean lion's nerve.-- |
| [Ghost beckons.] |
| Still am I call'd;--unhand me, gentlemen;-- |
| [Breaking free from them.] |
| 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 will this come? |
Mar. | |
| Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. |
Hor. | |
| Heaven will direct it. |
Mar. | |
| Nay, let's follow him. |
| [Exeunt.] |