Ophe. I shall obey my Lord.


Enter Hamlet, Horatio, Marcellus.

Ham. The Ayre bites shrewdly: is it very cold? Hor. It is a nipping and an eager ayre

Ham. What hower now? Hor. I thinke it lacks of twelue

Mar. No, it is strooke

Hor. Indeed I heard it not: then it drawes neere the season, Wherein the Spirit held his wont to walke. What does this meane my Lord? Ham. The King doth wake to night, and takes his rouse, Keepes wassels and the swaggering vpspring reeles, And as he dreines his draughts of Renish downe, The kettle Drum and Trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his Pledge

Horat. Is it a custome? Ham. I marry ist; And to my mind, though I am natiue heere, And to the manner borne: It is a Custome More honour'd in the breach, then the obseruance. Enter Ghost.

Hor. Looke my Lord, it comes

Ham. Angels and Ministers of Grace defend vs: Be thou a Spirit of health, or Goblin damn'd, Bring with thee ayres from Heauen, or blasts from Hell, Be thy euents wicked or charitable, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape That I will speake to thee. Ile call thee Hamlet, King, Father, Royall Dane: Oh, oh, answer me, Let me not burst in Ignorance; but tell Why thy Canoniz'd bones Hearsed in death, Haue burst their cerments, why the Sepulcher Wherein we saw thee quietly enurn'd, Hath op'd his ponderous and Marble iawes, To cast thee vp againe? What may this meane? That thou dead Coarse againe in compleat steele, Reuisits thus the glimpses of the Moone, Making Night hidious? And we fooles of Nature, So horridly to shake our disposition, With thoughts beyond thee; reaches of our Soules, Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we doe?

Ghost beckens Hamlet.

Hor. It beckons you to goe away with it, As if it some impartment did desire To you alone

Mar. Looke with what courteous action It wafts you to a more remoued ground: But doe not goe with it

Hor. No, by no meanes

Ham. It will not speake: then will I follow it

Hor. Doe not my Lord

Ham. Why, what should be the feare? I doe not set my life at a pins fee; And for my Soule, what can it doe to that? Being a thing immortall as it selfe: It waues me forth againe; Ile follow it

Hor. What if it tempt you toward the Floud my Lord? Or to the dreadfull Sonnet of the Cliffe, That beetles o're his base into the Sea, And there assumes some other horrible forme, Which might depriue your Soueraignty of Reason, And draw you into madnesse thinke of it? Ham. It wafts me still: goe on, Ile follow thee

Mar. You shall not goe my Lord

Ham. Hold off your hand

Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not goe

Ham. My fate cries out, And makes each petty Artire in this body, As hardy as the Nemian Lions nerue: Still am I cal'd? Vnhand me Gentlemen: By Heau'n, Ile make a Ghost of him that lets me: I say away, goe on, Ile follow thee.

Exeunt. Ghost & Hamlet.

Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination

Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him

Hor. Haue after, to what issue will this come? Mar. Something is rotten in the State of Denmarke

Hor. Heauen will direct it

Mar. Nay, let's follow him.


Enter Ghost and Hamlet.

Ham. Where wilt thou lead me? speak; Ile go no further

Gho. Marke me

Ham. I will

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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