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. Ho. 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 1 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.

Ho. So have I heard, and do in part believe it. But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill:

I Wandering.

2 Strikes with diseases.

Break we our watch up; and, by my advice,
Let us impart what we have seen to-night
Unto young Hamlet; for,
upon my life,
This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.
Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?

Mar. Let's do 't, I pray; and I this morning

know

Where we shall find him most convenient.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The same. A room of state in the same.

Enter 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 To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom

To be contracted in one brow of woe;

Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature,
That we with wisest sorrow think on him,
Together with remembrance of ourselves.
Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
The imperial jointress of this warlike state,
Have we, as 'twere, with a defeated joy,—
With one auspicious and one dropping eye,
With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage,

In equal scale weighing delight and dole,1—
Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr'd
Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
With this affair along.-For all, our thanks.
Now follows, that
you know, young Fortinbras,-
Holding a weak supposal of our worth ;

Or thinking, by our late dear brother's death,
Our state to be disjoint and out of frame;
Colleagued with this dream of his advantage,
He hath not fail'd to pester us with message,
Importing the surrender of those lands
Lost by his father, with all bands 2 of law,
To our most valiant brother:-so much for him.
Now for ourself, and for this time of meeting.
Thus much the business is: we have here writ

3

To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,-
Who, impotent and bedrid, scarcely hears
Of this his nephew's purpose,—to suppress
His farther gait 3 herein; in that the levies,
The lists, and full proportions, are all made
Out of his subject: and we here despatch
You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand,
For bearers of this greeting to old Norway;
Giving to you no farther personal power

To business with the king, more than the scope
Of these dilated articles allow.

Farewell; and let your haste commend your duty.

Cor. Vol. In that and all things will we show our

duty.

King. We doubt it nothing; heartily farewell. [Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius. And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? You told us of some suit; what is 't, Laertes? You cannot speak of reason to the Dane,

And lose your voice. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes,

That shall not be my offer, not thy asking?

The head is not more native to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.
What wouldst thou have, Laertes ?

Laer.

My dread lord, Your leave and favor to return to France;

From whence though willingly I came to Denmark, 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?

Po. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave

By laborsome 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.

Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. Do not, for ever, with thy vailed lids,1

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 forced breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected havior 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.

i Dejected eyes.