Of this post-haste and romage in the land. Hor. A mote it is, to trouble the mind's eye. The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Re-enter Ghost. But, soft; behold! lo, where it comes again! I'll cross it, though it blast me.-Stay, illusion! If thou hast any sound, or use of voice, Speak to me: If there be any good thing to be done, If thou art privy to thy country's fate, Or, if thou hast uphoarded in thy life Extorted treasure in the womb of earth, For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death, [Cock crows. Speak of it:-stay, and speak.-Stop it, Marcellus. Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partizan? Hor. Do, if it will not stand. Ber. Hor. Mar. 'Tis gone! "Tis here! 'Tis here! [Exit Ghost. We do it wrong, being so majestical, To offer it the show of violence; For it is, as the air, invulnerable, And our vain blows malicious mockery. Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew. Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons. I have heard, The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat Awake the god of day; and, at his warning, Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, The extravagant and erring spirit hies To his confine: and of the truth herein This present object made probation. Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock. Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning singeth all night long: And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. Hor. So have I heard, and do in part believe it. But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, Mar. Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know Where we shall find him most convenient. SCENE II. [Exeunt. THE SAME. A ROOM OF STATE IN THE SAME. Enter the King, Queen, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, Voltimand, Cornelius, Lords, and Attendants. King. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death The memory be green; and that it us befitted Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature, With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage, In equal scale weighing delight and dole,— Or thinking, by our late dear brother's death, Farewel; and let your haste commend your duty. our duty. King. We doubt it nothing; heartily farewel. [Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius. And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? You told us of some suit; What is't, Laertés? And lose your voice: What would'st thou beg, That shall not be my offer, not thy asking? The head is not more native to the heart, Laer. My dread lord, Your leave and favour to return to France; From whence though willingly I came to Den mark, To show my duty in your coronation; Yet now, I must confess, that duty done, My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France, And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon. King. Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius? Pol. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave, By laboursome petition; and, at last, Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent: I do beseech you, give him leave to go. King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine, And thy best graces: spend it at thy will.— But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son, Ham. A little more than kin, and less than kind, [Aside. King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you? Ham. Not so, my lord, I am too much i'the sun. |