Mar. It is offended

Barn. See, it stalkes away

Hor. Stay: speake; speake: I Charge thee, speake.

Exit the Ghost.

Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer

Barn. How now Horatio? You tremble & look pale: Is not this something more then Fantasie?

What thinke you on't?

Hor. Before my G.o.d, I might not this beleeue Without the sensible and true auouch Of mine owne eyes

Mar. Is it not like the King?

Hor. As thou art to thy selfe, Such was the very Armour he had on, When th' Ambitious Norwey combatted: So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle He smot the sledded Pollax on the Ice.

'Tis strange

Mar. Thus twice before, and iust at this dead houre, With Martiall stalke, hath he gone by our Watch

Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not: But in the grosse and scope of my Opinion, This boades some strange erruption to our State

Mar. Good now sit downe, & tell me he that knowes Why this same strict and most obseruant Watch, So nightly toyles the subiect of the Land, And why such dayly Cast of Brazon Cannon And Forraigne Mart for Implements of warre: Why such impresse of Ship-wrights, whose sore Taske Do's not diuide the Sunday from the weeke, What might be toward, that this sweaty hast Doth make the Night ioynt-Labourer with the day: Who is't that can informe me?

Hor. That can I, At least the whisper goes so: Our last King, Whose Image euen but now appear'd to vs, Was (as you know) by Fortinbras of Norway, (Thereto p.r.i.c.k'd on by a most emulate Pride) Dar'd to the Combate. In which, our Valiant Hamlet, (For so this side of our knowne world esteem'd him) Did slay this Fortinbras: who by a Seal'd Compact, Well ratified by Law, and Heraldrie, Did forfeite (with his life) all those his Lands Which he stood seiz'd on, to the Conqueror: Against the which, a Moity competent Was gaged by our King: which had return'd To the Inheritance of Fortinbras, Had he bin Vanquisher, as by the same Cou'nant And carriage of the Article designe, His fell to Hamlet. Now sir, young Fortinbras, Of vnimproued Mettle, hot and full, Hath in the skirts of Norway, heere and there, Shark'd vp a List of Landlesse Resolutes, For Foode and Diet, to some Enterprize That hath a stomacke in't: which is no other (And it doth well appeare vnto our State) But to recouer of vs by strong hand And termes Compulsatiue, those foresaid Lands So by his Father lost: and this (I take it) Is the maine Motiue of our Preparations, The Sourse of this our Watch, and the cheefe head Of this post-hast, and Romage in the Land.

Enter Ghost againe.

But soft, behold: Loe, where it comes againe: Ile crosse it, though it blast me. Stay Illusion: If thou hast any sound, or vse of Voyce, Speake to me. If there be any good thing to be done, That may to thee do ease, and grace to me; speak to me.

If thou art priuy to thy Countries Fate (Which happily foreknowing may auoyd) Oh speake.

Or, if thou hast vp-hoorded in thy life Extorted Treasure in the wombe of Earth, (For which, they say, you Spirits oft walke in death) Speake of it. Stay, and speake. Stop it Marcellus

Mar. Shall I strike at it with my Partizan?

Hor. Do, if it will not stand

Barn. 'Tis heere

Hor. 'Tis heere

Mar. 'Tis gone.

Exit Ghost.

We do it wrong, being so Maiesticall To offer it the shew of Violence, For it is as the Ayre, invulnerable, And our vaine blowes, malicious Mockery

Barn. It was about to speake, when the c.o.c.ke crew

Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing Vpon a fearfull Summons. I haue heard, The c.o.c.ke that is the Trumpet to the day, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding Throate Awake the G.o.d of Day: and at his warning, Whether in Sea, or Fire, in Earth, or Ayre, Th' extrauagant, and erring Spirit, hyes To his Confine. And of the truth heerein, This present Obiect made probation

Mar. It faded on the crowing of the c.o.c.ke.

Some sayes, that euer 'gainst that Season comes Wherein our Sauiours Birch is celebrated, The Bird of Dawning singeth all night long: And then (they say) no Spirit can walke abroad, The nights are wholsome, then no Planets strike, No Faiery talkes, nor Witch hath power to Charme: So hallow'd, and so gracious is the time

Hor. So haue I heard, and do in part beleeue it.

But looke, the Morne in Russet mantle clad, Walkes o're the dew of yon high Easterne Hill, Breake we our Watch vp, and by my aduice Let vs impart what we haue seene to night Vnto yong Hamlet. For vpon my life, This Spirit dumbe to vs, will speake to him: Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it, As needfull in our Loues, fitting our Duty?

Mar. Let do't I pray, and I this morning know Where we shall finde him most conueniently.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Claudius King of Denmarke, Gertrude the Queene, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, and his Sister Ophelia, Lords Attendant.

King. Though yet of Hamlet our deere Brothers death The memory be greene: and that it vs befitted To beare our hearts in greefe, and our whole Kingdome To be contracted in one brow of woe: Yet so farre hath Discretion fought with Nature, That we with wisest sorrow thinke on him, Together with remembrance of our selues.

Therefore our sometimes Sister, now our Queene, Th' imperiall Ioyntresse of this warlike State, Haue we, as 'twere, with a defeated ioy, With one Auspicious, and one Dropping eye, With mirth in Funerall, and with Dirge in Marriage, In equall Scale weighing Delight and Dole Taken to Wife; nor haue we heerein barr'd Your better Wisedomes, which haue freely gone With this affaire along, for all our Thankes.

Now followes, that you know young Fortinbras, Holding a weake supposall of our worth; Or thinking by our late deere Brothers death, Our State to be disioynt, and out of Frame, Colleagued with the dreame of his Aduantage; He hath not fayl'd to pester vs with Message, Importing the surrender of those Lands Lost by his Father: with all Bonds of Law To our most valiant Brother. So much for him.

Enter Voltemand and Cornelius.

Now for our selfe, and for this time of meeting Thus much the businesse is. We haue heere writ To Norway, Vncle of young Fortinbras, Who Impotent and Bedrid, sca.r.s.ely heares Of this his Nephewes purpose, to suppresse His further gate heerein. In that the Leuies, The Lists, and full proportions are all made Out of his subiect: and we heere dispatch You good Cornelius, and you Voltemand, For bearing of this greeting to old Norway, Giuing to you no further personall power To businesse with the King, more then the scope Of these dilated Articles allow: Farewell, and let your hast commend your duty

Volt. In that, and all things, will we shew our duty

King. We doubt it nothing, heartily farewell.

Exit Voltemand and Cornelius.

And now Laertes, what's the newes with you?

You told vs of some suite. What is't Laertes?

You cannot speake of Reason to the Dane, And loose your voyce. What would'st thou beg Laertes, That shall not be my Offer, not thy Asking?

The Head is not more Natiue to the Heart, The Hand more instrumentall to the Mouth, Then is the Throne of Denmarke to thy Father.

What would'st thou haue Laertes?

Laer. Dread my Lord, Your leaue and fauour to returne to France, From whence, though willingly I came to Denmarke To shew my duty in your Coronation, Yet now I must confesse, that duty done, My thoughts and wishes bend againe towards France, And bow them to your gracious leaue and pardon

King. Haue you your Fathers leaue?

What sayes Pollonius?

Pol. He hath my Lord: I do beseech you giue him leaue to go

King. Take thy faire houre Laertes, time be thine, And thy best graces spend it at thy will: But now my Cosin Hamlet, and my Sonne?

Ham. A little more then kin, and lesse then kinde

King. How is it that the Clouds still hang on you?

Ham. Not so my Lord, I am too much i'th' Sun

Queen. Good Hamlet cast thy nightly colour off, And let thine eye looke like a Friend on Denmarke.

Do not for euer with thy veyled lids Seeke for thy n.o.ble Father in the dust; Thou know'st 'tis common, all that liues must dye, Pa.s.sing through Nature, to Eternity

Ham. I Madam, it is common

Queen. If it be; Why seemes it so particular with thee

Ham. Seemes Madam? Nay, it is: I know not Seemes: 'Tis not alone my Inky Cloake (good Mother) Nor Customary suites of solemne Blacke, Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, No, nor the fruitfull Riuer in the Eye, Nor the deiected hauiour of the Visage, Together with all Formes, Moods, shewes of Griefe, That can denote me truly. These indeed Seeme, For they are actions that a man might play: But I haue that Within, which pa.s.seth show; These, but the Trappings, and the Suites of woe

King. 'Tis sweet and commendable In your Nature Hamlet, To giue these mourning duties to your Father: But you must know, your Father lost a Father, That Father lost, lost his, and the Suruiuer bound In filiall Obligation, for some terme To do obsequious Sorrow. But to perseuer In obstinate Condolement, is a course Of impious stubbornnesse. 'Tis vnmanly greefe, It shewes a will most incorrect to Heauen, A Heart vnfortified, a Minde impatient, An Vnderstanding simple, and vnschool'd: For, what we know must be, and is as common As any the most vulgar thing to sence, Why should we in our peeuish Opposition Take it to heart? Fye, 'tis a fault to Heauen, A fault against the Dead, a fault to Nature, To Reason most absurd, whose common Theame Is death of Fathers, and who still hath cried, From the first Coa.r.s.e, till he that dyed to day, This must be so. We pray you throw to earth This vnpreuayling woe, and thinke of vs As of a Father; For let the world take note, You are the most immediate to our Throne, And with no lesse n.o.bility of Loue, Then that which deerest Father beares his Sonne, Do I impart towards you. For your intent In going backe to Schoole in Wittenberg, It is most retrograde to our desire: And we beseech you, bend you to remaine Heere in the cheere and comfort of our eye, Our cheefest Courtier Cosin, and our Sonne