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Which the brain makes of fumes: our very

Real Grief. eyes

Good faith Seems, madam! nay, it is: I know not seems. Are sometimes like our judgements, blind. 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, I tremble still with fear: but if there be Nor customary suits of solemn black, Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it! No nor the fruitful river in the eye, The dream's here still: even when I awake, it is Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage, Without me, as within me; not imagin’d, felt. Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief, Routed Army:

That can denote me truly: these, indeed, seem, No blame be to you, sir: for all was lost, For they are actions that a man might play: But that the heavens fought: the king himself But I have that within, which passeth show; Of his wings destitute, the army broken, These, but the trapping and the suits of woc. And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying, Through a strait lane ; the enemy full-hearted

Immoderate Grief discommended. Lolling the tongue with slaught'ring, having

'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, work

Hamlet, More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down To give these inourning duties to your father : Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some But, you must know, your father lost a father ; falling

That father lost, lost his; and the survivor Merely through fear; that the strait pass In filial obligation, for some term (bound, was damm'd (living To do obsequious sorrow.

But to persevere With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards In obstinate condolement, is a course To die with lengihen'd shame.

Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief: Deuth.

It shows a will most incorrect to Heaven; I, in mine own woe charm’d, [groan; | A heart unfortified, or mind iinpatient; Could not find Death, where I did hear him An understanding simple and unschool'd : Nor feel him, where he struck: being an ugly For what we know, must be, and is as common monster,

[beds,

As any the most vulgar thing to sense, Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft Why should we, in our peevish opposition, Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we, Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to Heaven, That draw his knives i' the war.

A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,

To reason most absurd; whose common theme $ 18. HAMLET. SA

(SPEARE.

Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried Prodigies.

From the first corse till he that died to-day, Is the most high and palmy state of Rome, | This must be so. A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, [dead The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted Hamlet's Soliloquy on his Mother's Marriage. Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets ; 0, that this too, too solid flesh would melt, Stars shone with trains of tire, dews of blood Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!

Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd God! Disasters veild the sun; and the moist star, His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! ( God! O Upon whose influence Neptune's empirestands, How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Was sick almost 10 doomsday with eclipse. Seem to me all the uses of this world! Ghosts vanish at the Crowing of the Cock: and Fie on'ı! O he! 'tis an unweeded garden, The Reverence paid to Christmas-time. That grows to seed; things rank and gross

in Ber. It was about to speak, when the cockcrew. nature Hor. And then it started like a guilty thing, Possess it merely. That it should come to this! Upon a fearful summons. I have heard, But two months dead ! nay, not so much, not The cock, that is the trumpet of the morn,

two. Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat So excellent a king; that was, to this, Awake the god of day; and, at his warning, Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother, Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, That he might not let e'en the winds of heaven Th' extravagant and erring spirit hies Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! To his confine: and of the truth herein, Must I remember?-why, she would hang on This present object made probation.

As if increase of appetite had grown [him, Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock. By what it fed on: and yet within a month Some

say, that ever 'gainst that season comes, Let me not think on't-frailty, thy name is Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,

woman! This bird of dawning singeth all night long: A little month ;-or ere those shoes were old, And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad, With which she follow'd my poor father's body, The nights are wholesome; then no planets Like Niobe, all tears;--why she, even she strike,

O Heaven! a beast' that wants discourse of No fairy takes, nor witch hath pow'r to charm, reason, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. Would have mourn'd longer-married with Morning

mine uncle, But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, My father's brother; but no more like my faWalks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.

ther,

fell;

Than I to Hercules: within a month, Be thy intents wicked, or charitable,
Ere yet the salt of most uprighteous tears Thou com'st in such a questionable shape,
Had left the flushing in her called eyes, That I will speak to thee; I'll call thee Hamlet,
She married : O most wicked speed, to post King, father, royal Dane: (), answer me:
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets ! Let me not bursi in ignorance! but tell,
It is not, nor it cannot come to good. Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,
A complete Man.

í lave burst their cerements? why the sepulchre He was a man, take him for all in all,

Wherein we saw thee quietly inuro'd, I shall not look upon his like again.

Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,

To cast thee up again? What may this mean, Cautions to young Ladies.

That thou, dead corse, again, in coinplete steel, For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favor,

Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the nioon, Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;

Making night hideous; and we fools of nature, A violet in the youth of primy nature,

So horribly to shake our disposition Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ? The perfume and suppliance of a minute, No more.

The Mischief it might tempt him to.

What if it tempt you towards the flood, my Then weigh what loss your honor may sustain, Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff, [lord, If with too credent car you list his songs;

That beetkis o'er his base into the sea; Or lose your heart; or your chaste treasure open | Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason,

And there assume some other horrible form, To his unmaster'd importunity. Fear it, Ophelia, fear'it, my dear sister ;

And draw you into madness? Think of it: And keep you in the rear of your affection,

The very place puts toys of desperation, Out of the shot and danger of desire.

Without more motive, into ev'ry brain, The chariest maid is prodigal enough,

That looks so many fathoms to the sea, If she unmask her beauty to the moon:

And hears it roar beneath. Virtue herself 'scapes noi calumnious strokes :

Enter Ghost and Hamlet, The canker galls the infants of the spring Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me ? speak, Too oft before their buttons be disclosid:

I'll go no further.
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth

Ghost. Mark me.
Contagious blastments are most imminent. Ham. I will.
A Satire on ungracious Pastors.

Ghost. My hour is almost come,
I shall th’ effects of this good lesson keep

When I to sulphurous and tormenting Alames As watchmen to my heart: but, good my bro- Must render up myself. Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, (ther,

Ham. Alas, poor ghost ! Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;

Ghost. Pisy nie not, but lend thy serious

To what I shall unfold. Whilst, like a pult and reckless libertine,

[hearing Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear. And recks not his own read.

Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou
Ham. What?

[shalt hear. A Father's Advice to his Son going to travel.

Ghost I am thy father's spirit; Give thy thoughts no tongue,

Dooin'd for a certain term to walk the night, Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.

And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires, Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.

Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am for; Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel;

To tell the secrets of my prison-house, [bid But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg’d comrade. Be- I Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young

I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in, (ware Bear it that the opposer may beware of thee.

Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their Give ev'ry man thine ear, but few thy voice:

spheres;
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judg- Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, (ment. And each particular hair to stand on end
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;

Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:
For the apparel oft proclaims the inan. But this eternal blazon must not be
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be:

To ears of Aesh and blood : list, list, O list! For loan oft loses both itself and friend;

If thou didst ever thy dear father loveAnd borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

lam. O Heaven!

[murder. This above all, to thine own self be true;

Ghost.. Revenge his soul and most unnatural And it must follow, as the night the day,

Ham. Murder ? Thou canst not then be false to any man. Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is; Hamlet on the Appearance of his Father's Ghost. But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.

Angels and ministers of grace defend us ! Ham. Haste me to know it; that I, with Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd, wings as swift Bring with thee airs froin heaven, or blasts as meditation, or the thoughts of love, from hell,

May sweep to my revenge.

blood;

my heart!

seat

lain;

Ghost. I find thee apt;

And shall I couple hell? O fie! hold, hold, And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed That roots itself in ease on Lethe's wharf, And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, Wouldst thou not stir in this? Now, Hainlet, But bear me stitily up! Remember thee? hear:

Ay, thou poor ghosi, while memory holds a 'Tis given out, that, sleeping in my orchard, A serpent stung me; so ihe whole ear of Den- In this distracted globe. Remember thee? inark

Yea, from the table of my memory Is hy a forged process of my death

I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, Rankly abus'd; but know, thou noble youth, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, The serpent

that did sting thy father's life, That youth and observation copied there ; Now wears his crown.

And thy commandment all alone shall live Ham. () my prophetic soul! my uncle? Within the book and volume of my brain, Ghost Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by Heaven. beast,

O most pernicious woman! With witchcraft of his wit, with trait'rous gifts, Ovillain, villain, smiling, damned villain ! (O wicked wits and gifts, that have the pow's My tables, --meet it is I set it down, So to sedice!) won to his shameful lusi That one may smile, and smile, and be a vil. The w ll of my most seeming-virtuous queen. O Hamlet, what a falling off was there! At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark. From me, whose love was of that dignity,

["Vriling. That it went hand in hand even with the vow So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word; I made to her in marriage; and to decline It is, Adieu, adieu! Remember me.” Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor Ophelia's Description of Hamlet's mad Address To those of mine!

to her. But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,

My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven: Lord'Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd; Solust, though to a radiant angel link’d,

No hat upon his head; his stockings foul’d, Will sate itself in a celestial bed,

Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ancle; And prey on garbage.

Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other; Bui, sofi'! methinks, I scent the morning air;- And with a look so piteous in purport, Brief let me be: Sleeping within mine or- As if he had been loosed out of hell chard,

To speak of horrors he comes before me. My custom always of the afternoon,

Pol. Mad for thy love? U pon my secure hour thy uncle stole,

Oph. My lord, I do not know; With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,

But, truly, I do fear it. And in the porches of mine ears did pour

Pol. What said he? The leperous distilment; whose effect

Oph. He took me by the wrist, and held me Holds such an enmily with blood of man,

hard ; That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through Then

goes

he to the length of all his arın; The natural gates and alleys of the body; And with his other hand thus o'er his brow And, with a sudden vigor, it doth posset He falls to such perusal of my face, And curd, like eager droppings into milk, As he would draw it. Long staid he so;The this and wholesome blood: so did it mine; At last-a little shaking of mine arm, And a most instant tetter bark'd about,

And thrice his head thus waving up and down, Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust, He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound, All iny smooth body.

As it did seein to shatter all his bulk, Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand,

And end his being. That done, he let me go; Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd: And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd, Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,

He seem'd to find his way withou his eyes ; Untousel'd, disappointed, unaneld;

For out of doors he went without their helps, No reckoning male, but sent to my account

And, to the last, bended their light on me. With all my imperfections on my head : O horrible! O horrible! most horrible !

Old Age. If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;

*Beshrew my jealousy! Let not the roval bed of Denmark be

It seems, it is as proper to our age A couch for luxury and damned incest.

To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions, But howsoever thou pursuiest this act,

As it is common for the younger sort

To lack discretion.
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
Against thy mother aught; leave her to Heaven,

Happiness consists in Opinion.
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,

Why, then, 'tis none to you ;, To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!

For there is nothing either good or bad, The glow-worm shows the main to be ncar,

But thinking makes it so ; And 'gins to pale his ineffectual fire:

Toine it is a prison. Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me. Exit. Hamlet's Reflections on the Player and himself. Ham. O, all you host of heaven! O earth! O what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! what else?

Is it not monstrous, that this player here,

But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,

King. 0, 'tis too true! how smart
Could force his soul so to his own conceit, A lash that speech does give my conscience !
That, from her working, all his visage wann'di The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring arte
Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect, Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it,
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting Than is my deed to my most painted word.
With forms to his conceit; and all for nothing!

Life and Death weighed.
For Hecuba!
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,

To be, or not to be, that is the question : That he should weep for her? what would he do, Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer Had he the motive and the cue for passion

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune ; That I have? he would drown the stage with Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, tears,

And, by opposing, end them: Todie—io sleep And cleave the gen’ral ear with horrid speech; No more; and by a sleep to say, we end Make mad the guilty and appal the free,

The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks Confound the ignorant; and amaze, indeed,

That flesh is heir to;-'tis a consummation The very faculties of eyes and ears.

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die ;-to sleep; Yet I

To sleep! perchance to dream ;-ay, there's A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, speak,

the rub;

[come, Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

For in that sleep of death what dreams may And can say nothing ; no, not for a king, Upon whose property and most dear life

Must give us pause :- there's the respect,. A'damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward? That makes calamity of so long life; [time, Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across ? For who would bear the whips and scorns of Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face? Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's conTweaks me by the nose, gives me the lie i' the

tumely, throat,

The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this?

The insolence of office, and the spurns Ha! why, I should take it :-for it cannot be That patient merit of th' unworthy takes, But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall

When he himself might his quietus make To make oppression bitter; or, ere this,

With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bcar, I should have fatted all the region kites

To grunt and sweat under a weary life; With this slave's offal: Lloody, bawdy villain! But that the dread of something after death Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn villain !

No traveller returns-puzzles the will, Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave;

And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Thai I, the son of a dear father murder'd,

Than fly to others that we know not of ? Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;

And thus the native hue of resolution words, And fall a cursing like a very drab,

And enterprises of great pith and moment, A scullion !

With this regard, their currents turn awry, Fie upon 't! foh! About, my brains! Humph! And lose the name of action. I have heard,

Calumny. That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,

Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, Have by the very cunning of the scene Thoo sbalt not escape calumny. Been struck so to the soul, that presently They have proclaim'd their malefactions :

A noble Mind disordered. For murder, though it have no tongne, will speak

O what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! With most miraculous organ. l'll have these The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, players

sword : Play something like the murder of my father, Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state, Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks ;

The glass of fashion, and the mould of form, I'll tent him to the quick; if he do blench,

Th' observ'd of all observers! quite, quite 1 know my course. The spirit , that I have seen, and I, of ladies most deject and wretched,

down! May be a devil: and the devil hath pow'r. To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and, perhaps, Now see that noble and most sovereign

reason,

That suck'd the honey of his music-vows, Out of my weakness and my melancholy, (As he is very potent with such spirits)

Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds

That unmatch'd form and feature of blown More relative than this; the play's the thing

youth, Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.

Blasted with ecstasy.
Hypocrisy.

On Flattery, and an even-minded Man.
We are to blame in this

Nay, do not think I flatter: "Tis too much prov'd-that, with devotion's For what advancement may I hope from thee, visage

That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits, And pious action, we do sugar o'er

To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor The devil himself,

be flatter'd ?

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No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp; Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart, with strings And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,

of steel, Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe ; hear?

All inay be well!

[The king kneels. Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,

Enter Hamlet.

[ing; And could of men distinguish her election, Ham. Now might I do it, pat, now he is presShe hath seald thee for herself: for thou hast And now I'll do 't; and so he goes to hear’n. been

And so am I reveng'd ? that would be scann'd: As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing;

A villain kills my father; and, for that, A man, that fortune's buffets and rewards

I, his sole son, do this same villain send Hast ua'en with equal thanks : and blest are To heaven! those,

[mingled, Why this is hire and salary, not rerenge. Whose blood and judgment are so well com- He took my father grossly, full of bread; That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger

With all his crimes broad-blown, as flush as To sound what stop she please: Give me the man May

[Heaven? That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him And, how his audit stands, who knows, save In my heart's core-ay, in my heart of heart,

But, in ourcircumstance and course of thought, As I do thee.

'Tis heavy with him: and am I then reveng'd Midnight.

To take him in the purging of his soul, "Tis now the very witching time of night; When he is fit and seasoned for his passage? When church-yards yawn, and hell itself No. breathes out

[hot blood, Contagion to this world: Now could I drink when he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage ;

Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent: And do such business as the better day Or in the incestuous pleasures of his bed ; Would quake to look on. Soft; now to my At gaming, swearing; or about some act mother.

That has no relish of salvation in 't: (ven; O heart, lose not thy nature: let not ever

Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaThe soul of Nero enter this firm bosom:

And that his soul may be as damn'd and black, Let die be cruel, not unnatural :

As hell whereto it goes. I will speak daggers to her, but use none.

Hamlet and his Mother. The King's despairing Soliloquy, and Hamlet's Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'st Reflections on him.

In noise so rude against me? [wag thy tonglie O, my offence is rank, it smells to heav'n;

Ham. Such an act, It hath the primal, eldest curse upon 't,

That blurs the grace and blush of modesty; A brother's murder! Pray can I not,

Calis virtue hypocrite; takes off the rose Though inclination be as sharp as will'; From the fair forehead of an innocent love, My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;

And sets a blister there; makes marriage-vows And, like a man to double business bound,

As false as dicers' oaths: 0, such a deed,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin, As from the body of contraction plucks
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand The very soul ! and sweet religion makes
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood? A rhapsody of words.
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens

Queen. Ah me, what act ?

(this, To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves

Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and on But to confront the visage of offence? (mercy, The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. And what's in prayer, but this twofold force;

See what a grace was seated on this brow: To be forestalled, ere we come to fall,

Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; Or pardon'd, being down? Then I'll look up; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; My fault is past. But O, what form of prayer A station like the herald Mercury, Can serve myturn? Forgive me my foul murder! New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; That cannot be; since I am still possess'd

A combination, and a form, indeed, Of those effects for which I did the murder,

Where every god did seem to set his seal, My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. Togire the world assurance of a man; [follows; May one be pardon'd, and retain th' offence? This was your husband.---Look you now, what In the corrupted currents of this world, Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear, Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice:

Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes ? And oft ’tis seen, the wicked prize itself Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, Buys out the law: but 'tis not so above:

And batten on this moor? There is no shuffling, there the action lies

Queen. () Hamlet, speak no more; In its true nature; and we ourselves compellid Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul ; Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults

And there I see such black and grained spots, To give in evidence. What then? what rests ? As will not leave their tinct. Try what repentance can : what can it not?

Enter Ghost. Yet what can it, when one cannot repent? llam. Save me, and hover o'er me with your O wretched state! O bosoin, black as death! wings, O limed soul! that, struggling to be free, You heavenly guards !--What would your graArt more engag'd! Help, angels, make assay! cious figure?

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