For food and dyet, to fome enterprize
That hath a ftomach in't: which is no other,
And it doth well appear unto our state,
But to recover of us by strong hand
And terms compulfative, thofe forefaid lands
So by his father loft: and this, I take it,
Is the main motive of our preparations,
The fource of this our watch, and the chief head
Of this post-haste and romage in the land.
Ber. I think it be no other, but even so:
Well may it fort that this portentous figure
Comes armed through our watch fo like the King,
That was and is the question of these wars.
Hor. A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
In the most high and † palmy state of Rome,
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
The graves stood tenantless, the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets,
Stars fhon with trains of fire, dews of blood fell,
Disasters veil'd the fun, and the moist star
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands,
Was fick almost to doom's-day with eclipse.
And even the like precurfe of fierce events,
As harbingers preceding still the fates,
And prologue to the omen coming on,
Have heav'n and earth together demonstrated
Unto our climatures and country-men.
But foft, behold! lo, where it comes again!
I'll cross it, though it blaft me. Stay, illufion!
† palmy for victorious; in the other editions flourishing.
If thou haft any sound, or use of voice,
If there be any good thing to be done,
That may to thee do ease, and grace to me;
If thou art privy to thy country's fate,
Which happily foreknowing may avoid,
Oh speak! -----
Or, if thou haft uphoorded in thy life
Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,
For which, they fay, you fpirits oft walk in death,
Speak of it. Stay, and speak ------Stop it, Marcellus
Mar. Shall I ftrike it with my partizan?
Hor. Do, if it will not stand.
Ber. 'Tis here -----
Hor. 'Tis here
Mer. 'Tis gone.
We do it wrong, being fo majeftical,
To offer it the fhew of violence;
For it is as the air, invulnerable,
And our vain blows, malicious mockery.
Ber. It was about to fpeak, 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-founding throat
Awake the God of day; and at his warning,
Whether in fea or fire, in earth or air,
Th' extravagant and erring spirit hyes
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,
The bird of dawning fingeth all night long:
And then, they fay, no spirit walks abroad,
The nights are wholsome, then no planets strike,
No Fairy takes, no witch hath power to charm;
So hallow'd and fo gracious is the time.
Hor. So have I heard, and do in part believe it.
But look, the morn in ruffet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill;
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 fpirit, dumb to us, will speak to him:
Do you confent we fhall 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 conveniently.
Enter Claudius King of Denmark, Gertrude the Queen, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, Voltimand, Cornelius, lords and attendants.
HOUGH yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death
King. The memory be green; and that it fitted
To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom
To be contracted in one brow of woe;
Yet fo far hath discretion fought with nature,
That we with wifeft forrow think on him,
Together with remembrance of our felves.
Therefore our fometime fifter, now our Queen,
Th' imperial jointress of this warlike state,
Have we, as 'twere, with a defeated joy,
With one aufpicious, and one dropping eye,
With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage,
In equal scale weighing delight and dole,
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 fuppofal 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 pefter us with message,
Importing the furrender of those lands
Loft by his father, by all bands of law
To our most valiant brother. So much for him.
Now for our felf, and for this time of meeting:
Thus much the bufinefs is. We have here writ
To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,
Who impotent and bed-rid, fcarcely hears
Of this his nephew's purpose, to fupprefs
His further gate herein. In that the levies,
The lifts, and full proportions are all made
Out of his subjects; and we here dispatch
You, good Cornelius, and you Voltimand,
For bearers of this greeting to old Norway;
Giving to you no further personal power
Of treaty with the King, more than the scope
Which thefe dilated articles allow.
Farewel, and let your hafte commend your duty.
Vol. In that, and all things, will we fhew our duty.
King. We doubt in nothing, heartily farewel.
[Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius. And now Laertes, what's the news with you?
You told us of fome fuit. What is't, Laertes?
You cannot speak of reason to the Dane,
And lofe voice. What would'st 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?
Your leave and favour to return to France ;
From whence, though willingly I came to Denmark
To fhew my duty in your coronation;
Yet now I must confefs, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend again tow'rd France:
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
King. Have you your father's leave? what fays Polonius?
Pol. He hath, my lord, by laboursome petition,
Wrung from me my flow leave; and at the last
Upon his will I feal'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 fon
Ham. A little more than kin, and less than kind.
King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
Ham. Not fo my lord, I am too much i'th' fun.
Queen. Good Hamlet caft 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 duft;
Thou know'ft 'tis common, all that live must die,
Paffing through nature to eternity.
Ham. Ay, madam, it is common.
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