Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. Do not, for ever, with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust: Thou know'st, 'tis common; all, that live, must die, Passing through nature to eternity. Ham. Ay, madam, it is common. If it be, Why seems it so particular with thee? Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems. 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, To give these mourning duties to your father: To do obsequious sorrow: But to perséver Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief: It shows a will most incorrect to heaven; Than that which dearest father bears his son, I pray thee, stay with us, go not to Wittenberg. But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell; [Exeunt King, Queen, Lords, &c. Polonius, Ham. 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 unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in nature, Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead!-nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother, That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on: And yet, within a month,- man! A little month; or ere those shoes were old, uncle, My father's brother; but no more like my father, But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue! Enter Horatio, Bernardo, and Marcellus. 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; good even, sir.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 fathers funeral. Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellowstudent; I think, it was to see my mother's wedding. Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon. Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. Hor. My lord? Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio. Where, Hor. I saw him once, he was a goodly king. 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 Ham. For God'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 |