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. King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you? Ham. Not so, my lord: I am too much i' the sun. Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. Do not, for ever, with thy veiled 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. A'y, 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 the dejected 'haviour of my visage,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,

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 nature,
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 persevere
In obstinate condolement, is a course

Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief:
It shows a will most incorrect to Heaven.

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,
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,
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell,
Re-speaking earthly thunder.

[Flourish of Trumpets and Drums. Exeunt all
but HAMLET.

Ham. Oh, 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! Ah 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,-
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,—

She married with my uncle,

My father's brother :-but no more like my father, Than I to Hercules.

It is not, nor it cannot come to, good;

But break, my heart: for I must hold my tongue!

Enter HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO. 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 my 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

father's funeral. Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow student;

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 eye, Horatio.

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 Heaven's love, let me hear.

Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,

In the dead waste and middle of the night,
Been thus encounter'd: A figure, like your father,
Armed at point, exactly, cap-a-pé,

Appears before them, and, with solemn march,
Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd
By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes

Within his truncheon's length? whilst they, distill'd
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,

Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did;

And I with them, the third night, kept the watch:
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,

Form of the thing, each word made true and good, The apparition comes.

Ham. But where was this?

Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.
Ham. Did you not speak to it?

Hor. My lord, I did:

But answer made it none: yet once, methought,

It lifted up its head, and did address
Itself to motion, like as it would speak!
But, even then, the morning cock crew loud;
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
And vanish'd from our sight.

Ham. 'Tis very strange.

Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true; And we did think it writ down in our duty, To let you know of it.

Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.` Hold you the watch to-night?

Mar. We do, my lord?

Ham. Arm'd, say you?

Mar. Arm'd, my lord.

Ham. From top to toe ?

Mar. My lord, from head to foot.

Ham. Then saw you not

His face?

Hor. O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up. Ham. What, look'd he frowningly ?

Hor. A countenance more

In sorrow than in anger.

Ham. Pale, or red?

Hor. Nay, very pale.

Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you?

Hor. Most constantly.

Ham. I would, I had been there.

Hor. It would have much amaz'd you.

Ham. Very like,

Very like:-Stay'd it long?

Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell

hundred.

Mar. Longer, longer.

Hor. Not when I saw it.

Ham. His beard was grizzled? no?— Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, A sable silver'd.