Hamlet

shall not look upon his like again.

Horatio
My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.


Hamlet
Saw? who?


Horatio
My lord, the king your father.


Hamlet
The king my father!


Horatio

Season your admiration for a while

With an attent ear, till I may deliver,

Upon the witness of these gentlemen,

This marvel to you.



Hamlet
For God’s love, let me hear.


Horatio

Two nights together had these gentlemen,

Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,

In the dead vast and middle of the night,

Been thus encounter’d. A figure like your father,

Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe,

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: I knew your father;

These hands are not more like.



Hamlet
But where was this?


Marcellus
My lord, upon the platform where we watch’d.


Hamlet
Did you not speak to it?


Horatio

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.



Hamlet
’Tis very strange.


Horatio

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.



Hamlet

Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.

Hold you the watch to-night?



Marcellus

Bernardo
We do, my lord.


Hamlet
Arm’d, say you?


Marcellus

Bernardo
Arm’d, my lord.


Hamlet
From top to toe?


Marcellus

Bernardo
My lord, from head to foot.


Hamlet
Then saw you not his face?


Horatio
O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.


Hamlet
What, look’d he frowningly?


Horatio
A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.


Hamlet
Pale or red?


Horatio
Nay, very pale.


Hamlet
And fix’d his eyes upon you?


Horatio
Most constantly.


Hamlet
I would I had been there.


Horatio
It would have much amazed you.


Hamlet
Very like, very like. Stay’d it long?


Horatio
While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.


Marcellus

Bernardo
Longer, longer.


Horatio
Not when I saw’t.


Hamlet
His beard was grizzled⁠—no?


Horatio

It was, as I have seen it in his life,

A sable silver’d.



Hamlet

I will watch to-night;

Perchance ’twill walk again.



Horatio
I warrant it will.


Hamlet

If it assume my noble father’s person,

I’ll speak to it, though hell itself should gape

And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,

If you have hitherto conceal’d this sight,

Let it be tenable in your silence still;

And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,

Give it an understanding, but no tongue:

I will requite your loves. So, fare you well:

Upon the platform, ’twixt eleven and twelve,

I’ll visit you.



All
Our duty to your honour.


Hamlet

Your loves, as mine to you: farewell. Exeunt all but Hamlet.

My father’s spirit in arms! all is not well;

I doubt some foul play: would the night were come!

Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise,

Though all the earth o’erwhelm them, to men’s eyes. Exit.



Scene III
A room in Polonius’ house.




Enter Laertes and Ophelia.


Laertes

My necessaries are embark’d: farewell:

And, sister, as the winds give benefit

And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,

But let me hear from you.



Ophelia
Do you doubt that?


Laertes

For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour,

Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood,

A violet in the youth of primy nature,

Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,

The perfume and suppliance of a minute;

No more.



Ophelia
No more but so?


Laertes

Think it no more:

For nature, crescent, does not grow alone

In thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes,

The inward service of the mind and soul

Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,

And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch

The virtue of his will: but you must fear,

His greatness weigh’d, his will is not his own;

For he himself is subject to his birth:

He may not, as unvalued persons do,

Carve for himself; for on his choice depends

The safety and health of this whole state;

And therefore must his choice be circumscribed

Unto the voice and yielding of that body

Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,

It fits your wisdom so far to believe it

As he in his particular act and place

May give his saying deed; which is no further

Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.

Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,

If with too credent ear you list his songs,

Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open

To his unmaster’d importunity.

Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,

And keep you in the rear of your affection,

Out of the shot and danger of desire.

The chariest maid is prodigal enough,

If she unmask her beauty to the moon:

Virtue itself ’scapes not calumnious strokes:

The canker galls the infants of the spring,

Too oft before their buttons be disclosed,

And in the morn and liquid dew of youth

Contagious blastments are most imminent.

Be wary then; best safety lies in fear:

Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.



Ophelia

I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,

As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,

Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,

Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;

Whiles, like a puff’d and reckless libertine,

Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,

And recks not his own rede.



Laertes

O, fear me not.

I stay too long: but here my father comes.




Enter Polonius.




A double blessing is a double grace;

Occasion smiles upon a second leave.



Polonius

Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame!

The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,

And you are stay’d for. There; my blessing with thee!

And these few precepts in thy memory

See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,

Nor any unproportion’d thought his act.

Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.

Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,

Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;

But do not dull thy palm with entertainment

Of each new-hatch’d, unfledged comrade. Beware

Of entrance to a quarrel,