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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.
Queen.

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, 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, 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 unschoold:
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? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason most absurd; whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cry’d,
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. 'For your intent
In going back to school in Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our desire:
And, we beseech you, bend you 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,

Hamlet; 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,

Come away

in na

But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell;
And the king's rouse the heaven shall bruit again,
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come

.
[Exeunt King, Queen, Lords, &c. Polonius,

and Laertes. 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

ture, 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,— Let me not think on't;— Frailty, thy name is wo

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,-marry'd with my

uncle,

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 marry’d:-0 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 !

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, fellow-

student;

eye, Horatio.

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.
'Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio !-
My father,-Methinks, I see my father.
Hor.

Where,
My lord:
Ham. In

my

mind's 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.
Ham.

The king my father!
Hor. Season your admiration for a-while
With an attent ear; till I

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

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, distillid

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