Hor. What news, my lord? Ham. O, wonderful! Hor. Good my lord, tell it. You will reveal it. Hor. Not I, my lord, by heaven. Mar. Nor I, my lord. Ham. How say you then; would heart of man once think it? But you'll be secret, Hor. Mar. Ay, by heaven, my lord. Ham. There's ne'er a villain, dwelling in all Denmark, But he's an arrant knave. Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave, To tell us this. Ham. Why, right; you are in the right: And so, without more circumstance at all, I hold it fit, that we shake hands, and part: You, as your business, and desire, shall point you ;— For every man hath business, and desire, Such as it is,-and, for my own poor part, Look you, I will go pray. Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my lord. Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily; yes, Faith, heartily. Hor. There's no offence, my lord. Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, And much offence too. Touching this vision here,--It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you; For your desire to know what is between us, O'er-master it as you may. And now, good friends, As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, Give me one poor request. Hor. What is't, my lord? We will. Ham. Never make known what you have seen tonight. Hor. Mar. My lord, we will not. Ham. Nay, but swear't. Hor. In faith, My lord, not 1. Mar. Nor I, my lord, in faith. Ham. Upon my sword. Mar. We have sworn, my lord, already. Ham. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear. Ham. Ha, ha, boy! say'st thou so? art thou there, true-penny? Come on,---you hear this fellow in the cellarage,-- Consent to swear. Hor. Propose the oath, my lord. Ham. Never to speak of this that you have seen, Swear by my sword. Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear. Ham. Hic & ubique? then we'll shift our ground :-- Come hither, gentlemen, And lay your hands again upon my sword: Swear by my sword, Never to speak of this that you have heard. Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear by his sword. Ham. Well said, old mole! can'st work i'the earth so fast? A worthy pioneer!-Once more remove, good friends. Hor. O day and night, but this is wondrous strange! Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. But come; Here, as before, never, so help you mercy! That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, As, Well, well, we know ;-or, We could, an if we would; -or, If we list to speak ;---or, There be, an if they might ;-- Or such ambiguous giving out, to note That you know aught of me :-This do you swear, Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So, gentlemen, With all my love I do commend me to you: And what so poor a man as Hamlet is May do, to express his love and friending to you, The time is out of joint ;---O cursed spite! [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I.---A Room in POLONIUS'S House. Enter POLONIUS and REYNALDO. Pol. Give him this money, and these notes, Reynaldo. Rey. I will, my lord. Pol. You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynaldo, Before you visit him, to make inquiry Of his behaviour. Rey. My lord, I did intend it. Pol. Marry, well said: very well said. Look you, sir, Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; And how, and who, what means, and where they keep, That they do know my son, come you more nearer Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him; And, in part, him ;---Do you mark this, Reynaldo? Pol. And, in part, him ;---but, you may say, not well: But, if't be he I mean, he's very wild; Addicted so and so ;---and there put on him What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank Rey. As gaming, my lord. Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling, Drabbing:-You may go so far. Rey. My lord, that would dishonour him. Pol. 'Faith, no; as you may season it in the charge. You must not put another scandal on him, That he is open to incontinency; That's not my meaning: but breathe his faults so quaintly, That they may seem the taints of liberty: The flash and out-break of a fiery mind; A savageness in unreclaimed blood, Of general assault. Rey. But, my good lord, Pol. Wherefore should you do this? I would know that. Pol. Marry, sir, here's my drift; And, I believe, it is a fetch of warrant: As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i'the working, Your party in converse, him you would sound, |