Hamlet | Page 7

follow him.
[Exeunt.]
Scene V. A more remote part of the Castle.
[Enter Ghost and Hamlet.]
Ham.
Whither wilt thou lead me? speak! I'll go no further.
Ghost.
Mark me.
Ham.
I will.
Ghost.
My hour is almost come,
When I to sulph'uous and
tormenting flames
Must render up myself.
Ham.
Alas, poor ghost!
Ghost.
Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall

unfold.
Ham.
Speak;I am bound to hear.
Ghost.
So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.
Ham.
What?
Ghost.
I am thy father's spirit;
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the
night,
And for the day confin'd to wastein fires,
Till the foul crimes
done in my days of nature
Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am
forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
I could a tale unfold
whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young
blood;
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres;
Thy
knotted and combined locks to part,
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.--List, list, O, list!--

If thou didst ever thy dear father love--
Ham.
O God!
Ghost.
Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.
Ham.
Murder!
Ghost.
Murder most foul, as in the best it is;
But this most foul,
strange, and unnatural.
Ham.
Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift
As meditation
or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.
Ghost.
I find thee apt;
And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed

That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,
Wouldst thou not stir in this.
Now, Hamlet, hear.
'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,
A
serpent stung me; so 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 sting thy father's life
Now wears his crown.
Ham.
O my prophetic soul!
Mine uncle!
Ghost.
Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
With witchcraft of
his wit, with traitorous gifts,--
O wicked wit and gifts, that have the
power
So to seduce!--won to his shameful lust
The will of my most
seeming-virtuous queen:
O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!

From me, whose love was of that dignity
That it went hand in hand
even with the vow
I made to her in marriage; and to decline
Upon a
wretch whose natural gifts were poor
To those of mine!
But virtue,
as it never will be mov'd,
Though lewdness court it in a shape of
heaven;
So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,
Will sate itself in a
celestial bed
And prey on garbage.
But soft! methinks I scent the
morning air;
Brief let me be.--Sleeping within my orchard,
My
custom always of the afternoon,
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,

With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,
And in the porches of my
ears did pour
The leperous distilment; whose effect
Holds such an
enmity with blood of man
That, swift as quicksilver, it courses
through
The natural gates and alleys of the body;
And with a
sudden vigour it doth posset
And curd, like eager droppings into milk,

The thin and wholesome blood; so did it mine;
And a most instant
tetter bark'd about,
Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust

All my smooth body.
Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand,
Of
life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd:
Cut off even in the
blossoms of my sin,

Unhous'led, disappointed, unanel'd;
No
reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on
my head:
O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
If thou hast nature
in thee, bear it not;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch
for luxury and damned incest.
But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act,

Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
Against thy mother
aught: leave her to heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom

lodge,
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!
The
glowworm shows the matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his
uneffectual fire:
Adieu, adieu! Hamlet, remember me.
[Exit.]
Ham.
O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else?
And shall I
couple hell? O, fie!--Hold, my heart;
And you, my sinews, grow not
instant old,
But bear me stiffly up.--Remember thee!
Ay, thou poor
ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe. Remember
thee!
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial
fond records,
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
That
youth and observation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone
shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with
baser matter: yes, by heaven!--
O most pernicious woman!
O villain,
villain, smiling, damned villain!
My tables,--meet it is I set it down,

That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least, I am sure,
it may be so in Denmark:
[Writing.]
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word;
It is 'Adieu, adieu!
remember me:'
I have sworn't.
Hor.
[Within.] My lord, my lord,--
Mar.
[Within.] Lord Hamlet,--
Hor.
[Within.] Heaven secure him!
Ham.
So be it!
Mar.
[Within.] Illo, ho, ho, my lord!
Ham.
Hillo, ho, ho, boy! Come, bird, come.

[Enter Horatio and Marcellus.]
Mar.
How is't, my noble lord?
Hor.
What news, my lord?
Ham.
O, wonderful!
Hor.
Good my lord, tell