Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.
What would'st thou have, Laertes ?

Laer.

My dread lord,
Your leave and favour to return to France;
From whence though willingly I came to Denmark,
To show my duty in your coronation;
Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,

My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France,
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
King. Have you your father's leave? What says
Polonius?

Pol. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave,
By laboursome petition; and, at last,
Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent;

I do beseech you, give him leave to go.

King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine,
And thy best graces: spend it at thy will.-
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,
Ham. A little more than kin, and less than kind.

6

[Aside.

King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you? Ham. Not so, my lord, I am too much i'the sun. Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. Do not, for ever, with thy vailed lids"

Seek for thy noble father in the dust:

Thou know'st, 'tis common; all, that live, must die,
Passing through nature to eternity.

Ham. Ay, madam, it is common.
Queen.
If it be,
Why seems it so particular with thee?

Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems.

6 Ham. A little more than kin, and less than kind.] A little more than kin, is a little more than a common relation. The king was certainly something less than kind, by having betrayed the mother of Hamlet into an indecent and incestuous marriage, and obtained the crown by means which he suspects to be unjustifiable.

7 vailed lids-] With lowering eyes, cast down eyes.

'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the
eye,

Nor the dejected haviour of the visage,
Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief,
That can denote me truly: These, indeed, seem,
For they are actions that a man might play:
But I have that within, which passeth show;
These, but the trappings and the suits of woe.
King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature,
Hamlet,

To give these mourning duties to your father:
But, you must know, your father lost a father;
That father lost, lost his; and the survivor bound
In filial obligation, for some term

T

To do obsequious sorrow: But to perséver
In obstinate condolement, is a course
Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief:
It shows a will most incorrect1 to heaven;
A heart unfortified, or mind impatient:
An understanding simple and unschool'd:
For what, we know, must be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
Take it to heart? Fye! 'tis a fault to heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason most absurd2; whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,

8

obsequious sorrow:] Obsequious is here from obsequies, or funeral ceremonies.

9 In obstinate condolement,] Condolement, for sorrow.

1

a will most incorrect-] i. e. ill-regulated, not sufficiently regulated by a sense of duty and submission to the dispensations of Providence.

2 To reason most absurd;] Reason is here used in its common sense, for the faculty by which we form conclusions from argu

ments.

From the first corse, till he that died to-day,
This must be so.
We pray you, throw to earth
This unprevailing woe; and think of us
As of a father: for let the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our throne;
And, with no less nobility of love, 3
Than that which dearest father bears his son,
Do I impart toward you. For your intent
In going back to school in Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our desire:
And, we beseech you, bend you to remain⭑
Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.

Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet; I pray thee, stay with us, go not to Wittenberg. Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam. King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply; Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come; This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof, No jocund health, that Denmark drinks to-day, But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell; And the king's rouse the heaven shall bruit again, Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.

[Exeunt King, Queen, Lords, &c. POLONIUS, and LAERTES.

Ham. O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!7

Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd

His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!

And, with no less nobility of love,] Eminence and distinction of love. bend you to remain] i.e. subdue your inclination to go from hence, and remain, &c.

4

5- No jocund health,] The king's intemperance is very strongly impressed; every thing that happens to him gives him occasion to

drink.

6 -the king's rouse] i. e. the king's draught of jollity.

7

solve.

resolve itself into a dew!] Resolve means the same as dis

How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!

Fye on't! O fye! 'tis an unweeded garden,

That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in nature, Possess it merely. That it should come to this!

8

But two months dead!

nay, not so much, not two; So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr9: so loving to my mother, That he might not beteem1 the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown

By what it fed on: And yet, within a month,

Let me not think on't; Frailty, thy name is woman !→
A little month; or ere those shoes were old,

With which she follow'd my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears;

why she, even she,

O heaven! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,

Would have mourn'd longer,- married with my uncle,
My father's brother; but no more like my father,
Than I to Hercules: Within a month;

Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears i
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,

She married:-O most wicked speed, to posta:
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!

It is not, nor it cannot come to, good;

But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue!

Enter HORATIO, BERNARDO, and MARCELLUS. Hor. Hail to your lordship!

Ham.

I am glad to see you well:

Horatio,-or I do forget myself.

8 -merely.] Is entirely, absolutely.

Hyperion to a satyr:] Hyperion or Apollo is represented in all the ancient statues, &c. as exquisitely beautiful, the satyrs hideously ugly.

That he might not beteem] i. e. permit, or suffer.

Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name

with you.

And what make you3 from Wittenberg, Horatio? Marcellus?

Mar. My good lord,——

Ham. I am very glad to see you; good even, sir,
But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?
Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.
Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so:
Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself: I know, you are no truant.
But what is your affair in Elsinore?

We'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.
Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.
Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student;
I think, it was to see my mother's wedding.

Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.

2

Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd meats? Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven? Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio !—

My father, Methinks, I see my father.
Hor.

My lord?

Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Where,

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

2

I'll change that name-] I'll be your servant, you shall be my friend.

3

what make you-] A familiar phrase for what are you doing. 4 · the funeral bak'd meats —] It was anciently the general custom to give a cold entertainment to mourners at a funeral. In distant counties this practice is continued among the yeomanry.

5

dearest foe in heaven] Dearest is most immediate, consequential, important.