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And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:
But this eternal blazon must not be

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.
Ham. 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
That rots it felf in ease on Lethe's wharf,

Wouldst thou not ftir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:
'Tis given out, that fleeping in my orchard,

A serpent stung me. 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 fting thy father's life
Now wears his crown.

Ham. Oh my prophetick foul! my uncle?

Ghoft. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
With witchcraft of his wit, with trait'rous gifts,
(Oh wicked wit, and gifts that have the power
So to feduce!) won to his fhameful luft

The will of my most seeming virtuous Queen.
Oh Hamlet, what a falling off was there!
From me, whose love was of that dignity,
That it went hand in hand ev'n with the vow
I made to her in marriage; and to decline
A a a

VO L. VI.

Upon

Upon a wretch, whose nat'ral gifts were poor
To those of mine!

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

Though lewdness court it in a shape of heav'n ;
So luft, though to a radiant angel link'd,
Will fate it self in a celestial bed,
And prey on garbage-----

But foft, methinks I fcent the morning air
Brief let me be; Sleeping within mine orchard,
My custom always in the afternoon,
Upon my fecure hour thy uncle ftole
With juice of cursed hebenon in a viol,
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
The leperous diftilment; whose effect
Holds fuch an enmity with blood of man,
That swift as quick-filver it courses through
The nat❜ral gates and allies of the body;
And with a sudden vigour it doth poffet
And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
The thin and wholfome blood: fo did it mine,
And a moft inftant tetter' bark'd about,

Moft lazar-like, with vile and loathfome cruft
All my fmooth body.

Thus was I fleeping, by a brother's hand,
Of life, of crown, of Queen at once difpatcht;
Cut off even in the bloffoms of my fin,

† Unhouzzled, † unanointed, † unanel'd;
No reck'ning made, but fent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head.
Oh horrible! oh horrible! most horrible!
If thou haft nature in thee, bear it not;

unhouzzled, without the facrament being taken.
unanointed, without extream unition.
unanel'd, no knell rung.

1 bak'd.

Let

Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damned inceft.
But howsoever thou pursu❜st this act,

Taint not thy mind, nor let thy foul contrive
Against thy mother ought; leave her to heav'n,
And to those thorns that in her bofom lodge,
To prick and fting her. Fare thee well at once!
The glow-worm fhews the matin to be near,

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

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Ay, thou poor ghoft, while memory holds a feat
In this distracted globe; remember thee-
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,

All faws of books, all forms, all preffures past,
That youth and obfervation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone fhall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmixt with baser matter. Yes, by heav'n:
Oh most pernicious woman!

Oh villain, villain, fmiling damned villain!
My tables, - meet it is I fet it down,

That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least I'm sure it may be fo in Denmark.
So uncle, there you are; now to my word;
It is; Adieu, adieu, remember me:

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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?
Ham. Oh wonderful!

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?

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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,
I hold it fit that we shake hands, and part;

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.
Ham. I'm forry they offend you, heartily;

Yes heartily.

Hor.

Hor. There's no offence, my lord.

Ham. Yes, by St. Patrick, but there is, my lord,
And much offence too. Touching this vision here
It is an honeft ghost, that let me tell you:
For your defire to know what is between us,
O'er-master't as you may. And now, good friends,
As you are friends, scholars, and foldiers,

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.

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