I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word blood; Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres ; Thy knotted and combined locks to part, To ears of flesh and blood:-List, list, O list!- Ham. O heaven! Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder. Ham. Murder? Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is; But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. Ham. Haste me to know it; that I, with wings as swift As meditation, or the thoughts of love, May sweep to my revenge. Ghost. I find thee apt; And duller should'st thou be than the fat weed Would'st thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear 'Tis given out, that, sleeping in my orchard, A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forged process of my death Rankly abus'd but know, thou noble youth, Ham. O, my prophetick soul! my uncle! beast, With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts, But virtue, as it never will be mov'd, Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven; And prey on garbage. But, soft! methinks, I scent the morning air; Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust, Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand, Of live, of crown, of Queen, at once despatch'd: Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd: ' No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head: [Exit. Ham. O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else? And shall I couple hell?-O fie!-Hold, hold, my heart; And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! [Writing. So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word; It is, Adieu, adieu! remember me, I have sworn't. - Hor. [Within.] My Lord, my Lord, Mar. Ham. So be it! Mar. [Within.] Illo, ho, ho, my Lord! Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come. Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS Mar. How is't, my noble Lord? Hor. What news, my Lord? Ham. O, wonderful! Hor. Good my Lord, tell it. Ham. No; You will reveal it. Hor. Not 1, my Lord, by heaven. Mar. Nor I, my Lord. Ham. How say you then; would heart of man But you'll be secret, - once think it? Hor. Mar. Ay, by heaven, my Lord. But he's an arrant knave. Hor. There needs no ghost, my Lord, come from the grave, To tell us this. Ham. Why, right; you are in the right; And so, without more circumstance at all, I hold it fit, that we shake hands, and part: You, as your business, and desire, Such as it is, and, for my own poor part, Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my Lord. Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily; yes, 'Faith, heartily. Hor. There's no offence, my Lord. Ilam. Yes, by saint Patrick, but there is, Ho ratio, And much offence too. Touching this vision here, It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you: As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, Hor. What is't, my Lord? We will. Ham. Never make known what you have seen to-night. Hor. Mar. My Lord, we will not. Ham. Nay, but swear't. Hor. In faith, My Lord, not I. Mar. Nor I, my Lord, in faith. Ham. Upon my sword. Mar. We have sworn, my Lord, already. Ham. Ha, ha, boy! say'st thou so? art thou there, true-penny ? Come on, you hear this fellow in the cellarage, Consent to swear. Hor. Propose the oath, my Lord. Ham. Never to speak of this that you have seen, Swear by my sword. Ghost. Beneath.] Swear. Ham. |