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Ham. I'll watch to-night ; perchance, 'twill walk

again.
Hor. I warrant you, it will.

Ham. 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. [Exeunt BERNARDO, and MARCELLUS. Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,

I'll visit you.

Hor. Our duty to your honour.
Ham. Your loves, as mine to you: farewell.

[Exit HORATIO.
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.

An Apartment in Polonius' House.

Enter OPHELIA, and LAERTES.
Laer. My necessaries are embark'd ; farewell :
And, sister, as the winds give benefit,
'Pray, let me hear from you.

Oph. Do you doubt that?

Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood; He may not, as unvalued persons do, Carve for himself; for on his choice depends

The safety and the health of this whole state;
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,
If with too credent ear you

list his songs;
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.

Oph. 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 Feaven;
Whilst, like a reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own read.

Laer. O, fear me not.
I stay too long ;-But here

my

father comes.

Enter POLONIUS. Pol. Yét here, Laertes ! aboard, aboard, for shame; The wind sits in the shoulder of

your

sail, And you are staid for.

Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord,
Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well
What I have said to you.

Oph. "Tis in my memory lock'd.
And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
Laer. Farewell.

[Exit LAERTES, Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you? Oph. So please you, something touching the Lord

Hamlet. Pol. Marry, well bethought: 'Tis told to me, he hath very oft of late Given private time to you; and you yourself Have of your audience been most free and bounte

ous;

If it be so, (as so 'tis put on me,
And that'in way of caution,) I must tell you,

You do not understand yourself so clearly,
As it behoves my daughter, and your honour.
What is between you give me up the truth.
Oph. He hath, my lord, of late made

many

tenders Of his affection to me.

Pol. Affection? puh! you speak like a green girl, Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. Do

you believe his tenders, as you call them? Oph. I do not know, my lord, what I should think,

Pol. Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby; That you

have ta’en these tenders for true pay, Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly; Or you'll tender me a fool.

Oph. My lord, he hath importun'd me with love, In honourable fashion.

Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.

Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech, With almost all the holy vows of Heaven,

Pol, Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know, When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul Lends the tongue vows. This is for all, I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth, Have you so slander any moment's leisure, As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet. Look to't, I charge you; come your ways. Oph. I shall obey, my lord.

[Exeunt.

my lord,

SCENE IV.

The Platform
Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS.
Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very

cold.
Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air.
Ham. What hour now?

Hor. I think, it lacks of twelve.
Mar. No, it is struck.

Hor. I heard it not; it then draws near the season, Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.

(Flourish of Music, and Ordnance shot off, within. What does this mean, my lord ? Ham. The king doth wake to-night, and takes his

rouse;
And, as he drạins his draughts of Rhenish down,
The kettle drum and trumpet thus bray out
The triumph of his pledge.
Hor. Is it a custom?

Ham. Ay, marry, is't:
But to my mind,—though I am native here,
And to the manner born, it is a custom
More honour'd in the breach, than the observance.

Enter Ghost. Hor. Look, my lord, it comes !

Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us !
Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn’d,
Bring with thee airs from Heaven, or blasts from hell,
Be thy intents wicked, or charitable,
Thou com’st in such a questionable shape,
That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet,
King, father.—Royal Dane, Q answer me!
Let me not burst in ignorance! but tell,
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,
Have burst their cerements! why the sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws
To cast thee
up again! What

may
this

mean,
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel,
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous; and us, fools of nature,
So horridly to shake our disposition,
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ?
Say, why is this ? 'wherefore? what should we do?

with it,

Hor. It beckons you to go
As if it some impartment did desire
To
you

alone.
Mar. Look, with what courteous action
It waves you to a more removed ground:
But do not go with it.

Hor. No, by no means.
Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it.
Hor. Do not, my lord.

Ham. Why? what should be the fear?
I do not set my life at a pin's fee;
And, for my soul, what can it do to that,
Being a thing immortal as itself ?-
It waves me forth again—I'll follow it.
Hor, What, if it tempt you toward the flood, my

lord ?
Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff,
And there assume some other horrible form,
And draw you into madness ?

Ham. It waves me still-
Go on, I'll follow thee,

Mar. You shall not go, my lord.
Ham. Hold off

your

hands. Hor. Be ruļd, you shall not go.

Ham. My fate cries out, And makes each petty artery in this body As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.Stiļl am I call'd-unhand me, gentlemen ; By Heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that letts me ;--

[Breaking from them, I say, away :-Go on, I'll follow thee.

[Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET-HORATIO and

MARCELLUS.

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