The Platform. |
| |
Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS. |
| Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold. |
| Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air. |
| Ham. What hour now? |
| Hor. I think it lacks of twelve. |
| Mar. No, it is struck. |
| Hor. 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 off, within. |
| What does this mean, my lord? |
| Ham. 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 out |
| The triumph of his pledge. |
| Hor. Is it a custom? |
| Ham. 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 west |
| Makes us traduc'd and tax'd of other nations; |
| They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase |
| 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, |
| Their 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 of a doubt, |
| To his own scandal. |
| |
Enter GHOST. |
| Hor. Look, my lord, it comes. |
| Ham. 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 com'st in such a questionable shape |
| 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 canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death, |
| Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre, |
| Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, |
| Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws, |
| To cast thee up again. What may this mean, |
| That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel |
| 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? [The Ghost beckons HAMLET. |
| Hor. It beckons you to go away with it, |
| As if it some impartment did desire |
| To you alone. |
| Mar. Look, with what courteous action |
| It waves you to a more removed ground: |
| But do not go with it. |
| Hor. No, by no means. |
| Ham. It will not speak; then, will I follow it. |
| Hor. Do not, my lord. |
| Ham. Why, what should be the fear? |
| I do not set my life at 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. |
| Hor. What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, |
| Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff |
| 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 sea |
| And hears it roar beneath. |
| Ham. It waves me still. Go on, I'll follow thee. |
| Mar. You shall not go, my lord. |
| Ham. Hold off your hands! |
| Hor. Be rul'd; you shall not go. |
| Ham. My fate cries out, |
| And makes each petty artery in this body |
| As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. [Ghost beckons. |
| Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen, [Breaking from them. |
| 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. |
| Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination. |
| Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him. |
| Hor. Have after. To what issue will this come? |
| Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. |
| Hor. Heaven will direct it. |
| Mar. Nay, let's follow him. [Exeunt. |
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