A little month; or ere those shoes were old, O heaven! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,a Would have mourn'd longer, married with mine uncle, My father's brother; but no more like my father, But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue! Enter HORATIO, BERNARDO, and MARCELLUS. Hor. Hail to your lordship! Ham. I am glad to see you well: Horatio, or I do forget myself. Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you. And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?— Mar. My good lord,— Ham. I am very glad to see you; good even, sir,But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg? Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord. Ham. I would not have your enemy say so; Nor shall you do mine ear that violence, To make it truster of your own report Against yourself: I know, you are no truant. But what is your affair in Elsinore ? We'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart. a Discourse of reason is the discursion of reason-the faculty of pursuing a train of thought, or of passing from one thought to another. Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student; I think it was to see my mother's wedding. Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon. Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. Hor. My lord? Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio. O, where, Hor. I saw him once, he was a goodly king. I shall not look upon his like again. Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight. Hor. My lord, the king your father. Ham. The king my father! Hor. Season your admiration for a while With an attent ear; till I may deliver, Upon the witness of these gentlemen, This marvel to you. Ham. For heaven's love, let me hear. Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen, Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, In the dead waste and middle of the night, Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father, Appears before them, and, with solemn march, Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, bestill'd a Thrift, thrift. It was a frugal arrangement,-a thrifty proceeding. Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me And I with them the third night kept the watch: But where was this? Ham. Hor. Itself to motion, like as it would speak: Ham. "T is very strange. Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 't is true; And we did think it writ down in our duty, To let you know of it. Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. Hold you the watch to-night? Hor. O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up. Hor. In sorrow than in anger. A countenance more Arm'd, say you?" without doubt, is asked with reference to the Ghost, who has been described by Horatio as "Arm'd at all points exactly, cap-à-pé.” Ham. Hor. Nay, very pale. Ham. Hor. Most constantly. Ham. Pale, or red? And fix'd his eyes upon you? I would I had been there. Hor. It would have much amaz'd you. Very like Stay'd it long? Very like, Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred. Mar., Ber. Longer, longer. Hor. Not when I saw it. Ham. His beard was grizly? no. Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, A sable silver'd. Нат. I will watch to-night; Perchance, 't will walk again. Hor. I warrant it will. Ham. If it assume my noble father's person, All. Our duty to your honour. Ham. Your love, as mine to you: Farewell. [Exeunt HOR., MAR., and BER. My father's spirit in arms! all is not well; I doubt some foul play: 'would the night were come! Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. [Exit. SCENE III.—A Room in Polonius' House. Enter LAERTES and OPHelia. Laer. My necessaries are embark'd; farewell; And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, Oph. Do you doubt that? Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favours, Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood; A violet in the youth of primy nature, Oph. Laer. No more but so? Think it no more: a For nature, crescent, does not grow alone And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd Unto the voice and yielding of that body, Whereof he is the head: Then if he says, he loves you, It fits your wisdom so far to believe it, As he in his peculiar sect and force May give his saying deed; which is no further, a Soil, is a spot; cautel, a crafty way to deceive; besmirch, to sully. |