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: O, 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 cómplete steel,"
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous; and we fools of nature,

7 questionable shape,] Questionable means here propitious to conversation, easy and willing to be conversed with.

Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,

Have burst their cerements!] Hamlet, amazed at an apparition, which, though in all ages credited, has in all ages been considered as the most wonderful and most dreadful operation of supernatural agency, enquires of the spectre, in the most emphatick terms, why he breaks the order of nature, by returning from the dead; this he asks in a very confused circumlocution, confounding in his fright the soul and body. Why, says he, have thy bones, which with due ceremonies have been entombed in death, in the common state of departed mortals, burst the folds in which they were embalmed? Why has the tomb, in which we saw thee quietly laid, opened his mouth, that mouth which, by its weight and stability, seemed closed for ever? The whole sentence is this: Why dost thou appear, whom we know to be dead? JOHNSON.

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in cómplete steel,] It is probable, that Shakspeare introduced his ghost in armour, that it might appear more solemn by such a discrimination from the other characters; though it was really the custom of the Danish kings to be buried in that manner.

So horridly to shake our disposition,

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?
Hor. It beckons you to go away with it,

As if it some impartment did desire

To you alone.

Mar.

It waves you to a more removed ground:2

Look, with what courteous action

No, by no means.

But do not go with it.

Hor.

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;3

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,

4

That beetles o'er his base into the sea?

And there assume some other horrible form,

Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason,5
And draw you into madness? think of it:
The very place puts toys of desperation, 6
Without more motive, into every brain,
That looks so many fathoms to the sea,
And hears it roar beneath.

— to shake our disposition,] Disposition, for frame.
a more removed ground:] i. e. remote.

pin's fee ;] The value of a pin.

4 That beetles o'er his base-] That hangs o'er his base, like what is called a beetle brow. A verb probably of our author's coinage. deprive your sovereignty of reason,] i. e. your ruling power of reason. When poets wish to invest any quality or virtue with uncommon splendour, they do it by some allusion to regal eminence.

6

puts toys of desperation,] Toys, for whims.

And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Némean lion's nerve.

[Ghost beckons.

Still am I call'd;-unhand me, gentlemen;

[Breaking from them. By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me : -7 I say, away: Go on, I'll follow thee.

[Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET.

Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination.

Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him. Hor. Have after: To what issue will this come ? Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. Hor. Heaven will direct it.

Ham, Whither wilt thou lead me? speak, I'll go no

further.

Ghost. Mark me.

7

Ham.

Ghost.

I will.

My hour is almost come,

that lets me ;] To let among our old authors signifies to prevent, to hinder. It is still a word current in the law, and to be found in almost all leases.

When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames
Must render up myself.

Ham.

Alas, poor ghost!

Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing

To what I shall unfold.

Ham.

Speak, I am bound to hear.

Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.

Ham. What?

Ghost. I am thy father's spirit;

Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night;

And, for the day, confin'd to fast in-fires,

Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature,
Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison-house,

I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood;
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres ;
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,

And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:

But this eternal blazón must not be

To ears of flesh and blood: List, list, O list!

If thou didst ever thy dear father love,

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

That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, 8

8 And duller should'st thou be than the fat weed

That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,] Shakspeare, apparently

Would'st thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:
'Tis given out, that sleeping in mine orchard,9
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,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life,
Now wears his crown.

Ham. O, my prophetick soul! my uncle !

Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,
(O wicked wit, and gifts, that have the power
So to seduce!) won to his shameful lust
The will of my most seeming virtuous queen:
O, Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!
From me, whose love was of that dignity,
That it went hand in hand even with the vow
I made to her in marriage; and to decline
Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor
To those of mine!

But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,

Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven;
So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,
Will sate itself in a celestial bed,

And prey on garbage.

But, soft! methinks, I scent the morning air;
Brief let me be:- Sleeping within mine orchard,

My custom always of the afternoon,

Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,

With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,1

through ignorance, makes Roman Catholicks of these Pagan Danes; and here gives a description of purgatory; but yet mixes it with the Pagan fable of Lethe's wharf. Mr. Malone reads " roots itself." mine orchard,] Orchard for garden.

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1 With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,] The word here used was more probably designed by a metathesis, either of the poet or transcriber, for henebon, that is, henbane; of which the most common kind (hyoscyamus niger) is certainly narcotick, and perhaps, if taken in a considerable quantity, might prove poisonous.