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 fuits of solemn black,
Nor windy fufpiration of forc'd breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage,
Together with all forms, moods, fhews of grief,
That can denote me truly. These may seem,
For they are actions that a man might play;
But I have that within, which paffeth fhow:
Thefe, but the trappings, and the suits of woe.
King. 'Tis fweet and commendable in your nature,
To give these mourning duties to your father:
But you must know, your father loft a father,
That father his, and the furviver bound
In filial obligation, for some term
To do obfequious forrow. But to perfevere
In obftinate condolement, is a course
Of impious ftubborness, unmanly grief.
It fhews a will most incorrect to heav'n,
A heart unfortify'd, a mind impatient,
An understanding fimple, and unfchool'd:
For what we know muft be, and is as common
As any the must vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we, in our peevish oppofition,
Take it to heart? fie! 'tis a fault to heav'n,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason most abfurd, whose common theam
Is death of fathers, and who ftill hath cry'd,
From the first coarfe, 'till he that died to-day,
"This must be so." 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,
And with no lefs nobility of love,
Than that which dearest father bears his fon,
Do I impart tow❜rd you. For your intent
In going back to school to Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our defire:
And we beseech you, bend you to remain
Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefeft courtier, coufin, and our fon.
Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet:
I pr'ythee ftay 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 our self 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 fhall tell;
And the King's rowse the heav'n fhall bruit again
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.
SCENE III.
Ham. Oh that this too-too folid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and refolve it self into a dew;
Or that the Everlasting had not fixt
His cannon 'gainst self-slaughter. Oh God! oh God!
How weary, ftale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world?
Fie on't! oh fie! 'tis an unweeded garden
That grows to feed; things rank, and gross in nature
Poffefs it meerly that it fhould come thus.
But two months dead! nay, not so much; not two,
So excellent a King, that was, to this,
Hyperion to a fatyr: fo loving to my mother,
That he permitted not the winds of heav'n
Vifit her face too roughly. Heav'n and earth!
Muft I remember?
why, fhe would hang on him,
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on; yet within a month?
Let me not think ----- Frailty, thy name is woman!
A little month! ----- or e'er those fhooes were old
With which the follow'd my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears Why fhe, ev'n fhe,
Oh heav'n! a beaft that wants discourse of reason
Would have mourn'd longer----- married with mine uncle,
My father's brother; no more like my father,
Than I to Hercules. Within a month!·
Ere yet the falt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her gauled eyes,
She married. Oh moft wicked fpeed, to poft
With fuch dexterity to incestuous sheets:
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.
But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
Enter Horatio, Bernardo, and Marcellus.
Hor. Hail to your lordship.
Ham. I am glad to see you well,
Horatio? or I do forget my felf?
Hor. The fame, my lord, and your poor fervant ever.
Ham. Sir, my good friend, I'll change that name with you:
And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?
Marcellus!
Ham. I am very glad to see you; good even, Sir.
But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?
Hor. A truant difpofition, good my lord.
Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so;
Nor fhall you do mine ear that violence,
To make it truster of your own report
Against your self. I know you are no truant;
But what is your affair in Elfinoor? ^
We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
Hor. My lord, I came to fee your father's funeral.
Ham. I pr'ythee do not mock me, fellow-student;
I think it was to fee 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 heav'n,
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio.
My father ----- methinks I see my father.
Hor. Oh where, my lord?
Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.
Hor. I faw him once, he was a goodly King.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,
I fhall not look upon his like again.
Hor. My lord, I think I faw 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 attentive ear; 'till I 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 encountred. A figure like your father,
Arm❜d at all points exactly, Cap-a-pe,..
Appears before them, and with folemn march
Goes flow and stately by them; thrice he walk'd,
By their opprest and fear-furprized eyes,
Within his truncheon's length; whilft they (diftill'd.
Almost to jelly with the act of fear) -
Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me.
In dreadful fecrecy 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. I knew your father:
These hands are not more like..
Ham. But where was this?
Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we watcht.
Ham. Did you not speak to it?
But answer made it none; yet once methought
It lifted up its head, and did address.
It self to motion, like as it would speak:
But even then the morning cock crew loud;
And at the found it shrunk in hafte away,
And vanisht from our fight.
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, Sirs, but this troubles me.
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