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 deareft foe in heaven

Or ever I had feen that day, Horatio!-
My father, methinks, I fee my father.
Hor. Where, my Lord?

Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Hor. I faw him once, he was a goodly king.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,
I fhall not look upon his like again.

Hor. My lord, I think I faw him yefternight.
Ham. Saw! who?

Hor. My lord, the king your father.
Ham. The king my father!

Hor. Seafon your admiration for a while
With an attent ear; till I may deliver,
Upon the witnefs of thefe gentlemen,
This marvel to you.

Ham. For God's love, let me hear.

Hor. Two nights together had thefe gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,
In the dead waist and middle of the night,

Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father
Armed at point, exactly, cap-à-pé,

Appears before them, and, with folemn march,
Goes flow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd
By their opprefs'd and fear-furprized eyes,

Within his truncheon's length; whilft they, diftill'd
Almoft to jelly with the act of fear,

Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me

In dreadful fecrecy impart they did :

And I, with them, the third night, kept the watch:

Where

Where, as-they had deliver'd, both in time,

Form of the thing, each word made true and good,

The apparition comes; I knew your father;

Thefe hands are not more like.

Ham. But where was this?

Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.

Ham. Did you not speak to it?

Hor. My lord, I did;

But anfwer made it none: yet once, methought,

It lifted up its head, and did addrefs

Itfelf to motion, like as it would speak:

But, even then, the morning cock crew loud,

And at the found it shrunk in haste away,
And vanish'd from our fight.

Ham. 'Tis very strange.

Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true;

And we did think it writ down in our duty,

To let you know of it.

Ham. Indeed, indeed, firs, but this troubles me. Hold you the watch to-night?

All. We do, my lord.
Ham. Arm'd, say you?
All. Arm'd, my lord.
Ham. From top to toe?

All. My lord, from head to foot.

Ham. Then faw you not

His face?

Hor. O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.
Ham. What, look'd he frowningly?

Hor. A countenance, more

In forrow than in anger..

Ham. Pale, or red?

Hor. Nay, very pale.

r.Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you?

Hor.

Hor. Most constantly.

Ham. I would I had been there.

Hor. It would have much amaz'd you.

Ham. Very like,

Very like. Stay'd it long?

Hor. While one with moderate hafte might tell a hundred.

Mar. Ber. Longer, longer.

Hor. Not when I faw it.

Ham. His beard was grizzl'd? no?

Hor. It was as I have feen it in his life, A fable filver'd.

Ham. I will watch to night;

Perchance 'twill walk again.

Hor. I warrant it will.

Ham. If it affume my noble father's perfon,
I'll fpeak to it, though hell itself should gape,
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you have hitherto conceal'd this fight,
Let it be tenable in your filence ftill;
And whatsoever elfe shall hap to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue;
I will requite your loves: So, fare you well:
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll vifit you.

All. Our duty to your honour.

Ham. Your loves, as mine to you: Farewell.

[Exeunt HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO.

My father's fpirit in arms! all is not well;

I doubt fome foul play: would the night were come!
Till then fit ftill, my foul: Foul deeds will rife,

Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. [ Exit.

SCENE

SCENE III.

A Room in POLONIUS's House.

Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA.

Laer. My neceffaries are embark'd; farewell: And, fifter, as the winds give benefit,

And convoy is affiftant, do not fleep,

But let me hear from you.

Oph. Do you doubt that?

Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;

A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, fweet, not lasting,
The perfume and fuppliance of a minute;
No more.

Oph. No more but so?

Laer. Think it no more:

For nature, crefcent, does not grow alone
In thews, and bulk; but, as this temple waxes,
The inward fervice of the mind and foul

Grows wide withal. Perhaps, he loves you now;
And now no foil, or cautel, doth befmirch
The virtue of his will: but, you must fear,
His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;
For he himself is fubject to his birth:
He may not, as unvalued perfons do,
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
The fafety and the health of the whole state;
And therefore must his choice be circumfcrib'd
Unto the voice and yielding of that body,

Whereof he is the head: Then if he says, he loves you,
It fits your wisdom so far to believe it,

As he in his particular act and place

May

May give his faying deed; which is no further,
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,
If with too credent ear you lift his fongs;

Or lose your heart; or your chaste treasure open
To his unmaster'd importunity.

Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister;
And keep you in the rear of your affection,
Out of the shot and danger of defire.
The charieft maid is prodigal enough,
If the unmask her beauty to the moon:
Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes :
The canker galls the infants of the spring,
Too oft before their buttons be difclos'd;
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth,
Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Be wary then: beft fafety lies in fear;
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
Oph. I fhall the effect of this good leffon keep
As watchman to my heart: But, good my brother,
Do not, as fome ungracious pastors do,

Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
Whilft, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own read.

Laer. O, fear me not.

I stay too long;-but here my father comes.

Enter POLONIUS.

A double bleffing is a double grace;

Occafion fmiles upon a second leave.

Pol. Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for fhame; The wind fits in the shoulder of your fail,

And you are staid for: There,-my blessing with you;