HAMLET
The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold
HORATIO
It is a nipping and an eager air.
HAMLET
What hour now?
HORATIO
I think it lacks of twelve.
HAMLET
No, it is struck.
HORATIO
Indeed? I heard it not: then it draws near the season Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot of What does this mean, my lord?
HAMLET
The king doth wake to-night and takes his rouse Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels; And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray ou The triumph of his pledge
HORATIO
Is it a custom?
HAMLET
Ay, marry, is’t: But to my mind, though I am native here And to the manner born, it is a custom More honour’d in the breach than the observance. This heavy-headed revel east and wes Makes us traduced and tax’d of other nations: They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phras Soil our addition; and indeed it takes From our achievements, though perform’d at height,The pith and marrow of our attribute So, oft it chances in particular men That for some vicious mole of nature in them As, in their birth—wherein they are not guilty, Since nature cannot choose his origin—By the o’ergrowth of some complexion, Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason Or by some habit that too much o’er-leavens The form of plausive manners, that these men Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, Being nature’s livery, or fortune’s star,—His virtues else—be they as pure as grace, As infinite as man may undergo Shall in the general censure take corruption From that particular fault: the dram of eale Doth all the noble substance often a doub To his own scandal.
HORATIO
Look, my lord, it comes![ Enter GHOST]
HAMLET
Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn’d, Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou comest in such a questionable shap That I will speak to thee: I’ll call thee Hamlet King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me! Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death, Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre, Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn’d, Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws, To cast thee up again. What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again in complete stee Revisit’st thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous; and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? Say, why is this? Wherefore? What should we do?
[GHOST beckons HAMLET]
HORATIO
It beckons you to go away with it,As if it some impartment did desire To you alone.
MARCELLUS
Look, with what courteous action It waves you to a more removed ground: But do not go with it.
HORATIO
No, by no means.
HAMLET
It will not speak; then I will follow it.
HORATIO
Do not, my lord.
HAMLET
Why, what should be the fear? I do not set my life in a pin’s fee; And for my soul, what can it do to that,Being a thing immortal as itself? It waves me forth again: I’ll follow it.
HORATIO
What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord Or to the dreadful summit of the clif That beetles o’er his base into the sea And there assume some other horrible form, Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason And draw you into madness? Think of it The very place puts toys of desperation Without more motive, into every brain That looks so many fathoms to the se And hears it roar beneath.
HAMLET
It waves me still. Go on; I’ll follow thee.
MARCELLUS
You shall not go, my lord.[ They hold hi .]
HAMLET
Hold off your hands
HORATIO
Be ruled; you shall not go.
HAMLET
My fate cries out, And makes each petty artery in this body As hardy as the Nemean lion’s nerve. Still am I call’d. Unhand me, gentlemen. By heaven, I’ll make a ghost of him that lets me! I say, away! Go on; I’ll follow thee.[ Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET]
HORATIO
He waxes desperate with imagination.
MARCELLUS
Let’s follow; ’tis not fit thus to obey him
HORATIO
Have after. To what issue will this come
MARCELLUS
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
HORATIO
Heaven will direct it.
MARCELLUS
Nay, let’s follow him.
[ Exeunt ]