And each particular hair to stand on end To ears of flesh and blood; lift, lift, oh list! If thou didst ever thy dear father love Ham. Oh heav'n! Ghoft. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murther. Ghost. Murther most foul, as in the best it is; But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. Ham. Haste me to know, that I with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love, May sweep to my revenge. Ghoft. I find thee apt; And duller fhouldst thou be than the fat weed Wouldst thou not ftir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear: A serpent stung me. The whole ear of Denmark Rankly abus'd: but know, thou noble youth, Ham. Oh my prophetick foul! my uncle? Ghoft. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, The will of my most seeming virtuous Queen. VO L. VI. Upon Upon a wretch, whose nat'ral gifts were poor But virtue, as it never will be mov❜d, Though lewdness court it in a shape of heav'n ; But foft, methinks I fcent the morning air Moft lazar-like, with vile and loathfome cruft Thus was I fleeping, by a brother's hand, † Unhouzzled, † unanointed, † unanel'd; unhouzzled, without the facrament being taken. 1 bak'd. Let Let not the royal bed of Denmark be Taint not thy mind, nor let thy foul contrive And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire. Adieu, adieu, adieu; remember me. [Exit. Ham. Oh all you host of heav'n! oh earth! what else? And shall I couple hell? oh hold my heart---- And you my finews, grow not inftant old; But bear me stiffly up; remember thee Ay, thou poor ghoft, while memory holds a feat All faws of books, all forms, all preffures past, Oh villain, villain, fmiling damned villain! That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; [Writing. SCENE IX. Enter Horatio and Marcellus. Hor. My lord, my lord. Mar. Lord Hamlet. Hor. Heav'n fecure him. Mar. So be it. Hor. Illo, ho, ho, my lord. Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy; come boy, come. Mar. How is't, my noble lord? Hor. What news, my lord? Hor. Good my lord, tell it. Ham. No, you'll reveal it. Hor. Not I, my lord, by heav'n. Mar. Nor I, my lord. Ham. How fay you then, would heart of man once think it? But you'll be fecret? Both. Ay, by heav'n, my lord. Ham. There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark, But he is an arrant knave. Hor. There needs no ghoft, my lord, come from the grave To tell us this. Ham. Why right, you are i' th' right; And fo without more circumftance at all, You as your business and defires shall point you, (For every man has business and defire, Such as it is) and for my own poor part, I will go pray. Hor. These are but wild and hurling words, my lord. Yes heartily. Hor. Hor. There's no offence, my lord. Ham. Yes, by St. Patrick, but there is, my lord, Give me one poor request. Hor. What is't, my lord? Ham. Never make known what you have seen to-night. Both. My lord, we will not. Ham. Nay, but swear't. Hor. In faith, my lord, not I. Mar. Nor I, my lord, in faith. Ham. Upon my fword. Mar. We've fworn, my lord, already. Ham. Indeed, upon my fword, indeed. Ghost. Swear. [Ghost cries under the ftage. Ham. Ah ha boy, fay'st thou so; art thou there truepenny? Come on, you hear this fellow in the celleridge. Confent to fwear. Hor. Propofe the oath, my lord. Ham. Never to speak of this that you have seen, Swear by my fword. Ghost. Swear. Ham. Hic & ubique? then we'll shift our ground. Come hither gentlemen, And lay your hands again upon my sword. Never to speak of this which you have heard, Swear by my fword. Ghoft. Swear. Ham. Well faid, old mole, can't work i'th' ground fo fast? A worthy pioneer! Once more remove, good friends. 6 Hor. |