To such a sudden flood of mutiny.

200 They that have done this deed are honourable;
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
That made them do it: they are wise and honourable,
And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.

205

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts:
I am no orator, as Brutus is;

But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,
That love my friend; and that they know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him:
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
210 Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
To stir men's blood: I only speak right on;

I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths,
And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus,

215 And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

220

All. We'll mutiny.

First Cit. We'll burn the house of Brutus. Third Cit. Away, then! come, seek the conspirators. Ant. Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak. All. Peace, ho! Hear Antony. Most noble Antony! Ant. Why, friends, you go to do you know not what: 225 Wherein hath Cæsar thus deserved your loves? Alas, you know not; I must tell you then:

You have forgot the will I told you of.

All. Most true: the will! Let's stay and hear the will.
Ant. Here is the will, and under Cæsar's seal.

230 To every Roman citizen he gives,

235

To every several man, seventy five drachmas.

Sec. Oit. Most noble Cæsar! we'll revenge his death.
Third Oit. O royal Cæsar!

Ant. Hear me with patience.

All. Peace, ho!

Ant. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,
His private arbours and new-planted orchards,
On this side Tiber; he hath left them you,
And to your heirs for ever; common pleasures,

240 To walk abroad and recreate yourselves.

Here was a Cæsar! when comes such another?
First Cit. Never, never. Come, away, away!
We'll burn his body in the holy place,

And with the brands fire the traitors' houses.

Fourth Cit. Pluck down forms, windows, any thing.

(Exeunt Citizens with the body.)

Ant. Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot, 250 Take thou what course thou wilt!

5 Hor. Indeed? I heard it not: it then 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;

10 And as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,

The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out

The triumph of his pledge.

Hor.

Ham. Ay, marry, is't;

Is it a custom?

But to my mind, though I am native here

15 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 traduced and tax'd of other nations;
They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase

20 Soil our addition; and indeed it takes.

From our achievements, though perform'd at height,
The pith and marrow of our attribute.

Enter Ghost.

Hor Look, my lord, it comes!

Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us!

25 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 shape

That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet,

30 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,
35 Hath oped 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
40 So horridly to shake our disposition

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?

to 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,

55 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;
60 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.

My fate cries out,

(Ghost beckons.) (Breaking from them.)

And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.
Still am I call'd? Unhand me, gentlemen;
70 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?

Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no further.
Ghost. Mark me.

Ham.

Ghost.

I will.

My hour is almost come,

When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames

so Must render up myself.

80

85

Ham.

Ghost. Pity me not, To what I shall unfold.

Ham.

Alas, poor ghost!

but lend thy serious hearing

Speak; I am bound to hear.

Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.
Ham.

What?

Ghost. I am thy father's spirit;

Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,

And for the day confined to fast in fires,

Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature

Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid

90 To tell the secrets of my prison-house,

I could a tale unfold whose lightest word.

Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,

Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,

95 And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porpentine:

100

105

But this eternal blazon must not be

To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!

If thou didst ever thy dear father love
Ham. O God!

Ghost.

-

Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.
Ham. Murder?

Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is,

But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.

Ham. Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love,

And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed

That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,

110 Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:
'Tis given out that, sleeping in mine orchard,

A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process of my death

Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,
120 O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power
So to seduce! won to his shameful lust
The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen:
O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!
From me, whose love was of that dignity,
125 That it went hand in hand even with the vow
I made to her in marriage; and to decline
Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor
To those of mine!

But virtue, as it never will be moved,

130 Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven,
So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,

Will sate itself in a celestial bed,

And prey on garbage.

But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air;
135 Brief let me be. Sleeping within mine orchard,
My custom always in the afternoon,

Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
140 The leperous distilment; whose effect

Holds such an enmity with blood of man
That swift as quicksilver it courses through
The natural gates and alleys of the body;
And with a sudden vigour it doth posset
145 And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine;
And a most instant tetter bark'd about,
Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust,
All my smooth body.

150 Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand

Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd;
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
Unhousel'd, disappointed, unaneled;
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
155 With all my imperfections on my head:
O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damned incest.
160 But, howsoever thou pursuest this act,
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive