Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent]:
I do beseech you, give him leave to go.
King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine,

And thy best graces spend it at thy will.

But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,

Ham. A little more than kin, and less than kind.

[Aside.

King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
Ham. Not so, my lord, I am too much i' the sun.

Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off,

And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Do not, for ever, with thy vailed lids

Seek for thy noble father in the dust:

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Thou know'st, 'tis common; all, that live, must die,
Passing through nature to eternity.

Ham. Ay, madam, it is common.

Queen. If it be,

Why seems it so particular with thee?

Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not

seems.

'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,

Nor customary suits of solemn black,

Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected haviour of the visage,
Together with all forms, modes, shews of grief,
That can denote me truly: These, indeed, seem,
For they are actions that a man might play :
✓ But I have that within, which passeth shew;
These, but the trappings and the suits of woe.

Biij

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King. King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature,

Hamlet,

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To give these mourning duties to your father:
But, you must know, your father lost a father;
That father lost, lost his; and the survivor bound
In. filial obligation, for some term
To do obsequious sorrow: But to perséver
In obstinate condolement, is a course

Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief:
It shews a will most incorrect to heaven;

A heart unfortify'd, or mind impatient;
An understanding simple, and unschool'd:
For what, we know, must be, and is as common

As any the most vulgar thing to sense,

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Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven,

A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,

To reason mosť absurd, whose common theme

Is death of fathers, and who still hath cry'd,

From the first corse, 'till he that died to-day,
This must be so. We pray you, throw to earth
This unprevailing woe; and think of us
As of a father: for, let the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our throne:

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And, with no less nobility of love

Than that which dearest father bears his son,
Do I impart toward you. For your intent
In going back to school in Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our desire :

And, we beseech you, bend you to remain

Here,

Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.

Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Ham

I pray thee, stay with us, go not to Wittenberg.
Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply;
Be as ourself in Denmark.-Madam, come;
This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof,
No jocund health, that Denmark drinks to-day,
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell;
And the king's rouze the heaven shall bruit again,
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come, away. [Exeunt.
Manet HAMLET.

:

Ham. O, that this too too solid flesh would melt,

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His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!

Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!

Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd

How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable

Seem to me all the uses of this world!

Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,

That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in nature,
Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
But two months dead!-nay, not so much, not two:
So excellent a king; that was, to this,

Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother,
That he might not let e'en the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!

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Must

Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,
As if increase of appetite had grown

By what it fed on: And yet, within a month,-
Let me not think on't; Frailty, thy name is

woman!

A little month; or ere those shoes were old,
With which she follow'd my poor father's body, 340
Like Niobe, all tears :-why she, even she,-
O heaven! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,
Would have mourn'd longer, - marry'd with my

uncle,

My father's brother; but no more like my father,
Than I to Hercules: Within a month;

Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her gauled eyes,
She marry'd.-O most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!

It is not, nor it cannot come to, good:

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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 ?Marcellus?

Mar.

Mar. My good lord,

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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 hear 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 Elsineur ?

We'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.
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.
Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd

meats

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
'Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven,

Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio
My father,-methinks, I see my father.

Hor. O where, my lord?

Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio:

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1.

379

Hor. I saw him once, he was a goodly king.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,

I shall not look upon his like again.

Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
Ham. Saw! who?

Hor. My lord, the king your father.

Ham. The king my father!

Hor. Season your admiration for a while