The Tragedy of Hamlet — Act 1 Scene 4

Enter Hamlet, Horatio, Marcellus.

Ham.The Ayre bites shrewdly: is it very cold?

Hor.It is a nipping and an eager ayre.

Ham.What hower now?

Hor.I thinke it lacks of twelue.

Mar.No, it is strooke.

Hor.Indeed I heard it not: then it drawes neere the season,Wherein the Spirit held his wont to walke.What does this meane my Lord?

Ham.The King doth wake to night, and takes his rouse,Keepes wassels and the swaggering vpspring reeles,And as he dreines his draughts of Renish downe,The kettle Drum and Trumpet thus bray outThe triumph of his Pledge.

Horat.Is it a custome?

Ham.I marry ist;And to my mind, though I am natiue heere,And to the manner borne: It is a CustomeMore honour'd in the breach, then the obseruance.

Enter Ghost.

Hor.Looke my Lord, it comes.

Ham.Angels and Ministers of Grace defend vs:Be thou a Spirit of health, or Goblin damn'd,Bring with thee ayres from Heauen, or blasts from Hell,Be thy euents wicked or charitable,Thou com'st in such a questionable shapeThat I will speake to thee. Ile call thee Hamlet,King, Father, Royall Dane: Oh, oh, answer me,Let me not burst in Ignorance; but tellWhy thy Canoniz'd bones Hearsed in death,Haue burst their cerments, why the SepulcherWherein we saw thee quietly enurn'd,Hath op'd his ponderous and Marble iawes,To cast thee vp againe? What may this meane?That thou dead Coarse againe in compleat steele,Reuisits thus the glimpses of the Moone,Making Night hidious? And we fooles of Nature,So horridly to shake our disposition,With thoughts beyond thee; reaches of our Soules,Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we doe?

Ghost beckens Hamlet.

Hor.It beckons you to goe away with it,As if it some impartment did desireTo you alone.

Mar.Looke with what courteous actionIt wafts you to a more remoued ground:But doe not goe with it.

Hor.No, by no meanes.

Ham.It will not speake: then will I follow it.

Hor.Doe not my Lord.

Ham.Why, what should be the feare?I doe not set my life at a pins fee;And for my Soule, what can it doe to that?Being a thing immortall as it selfe:It waues me forth againe; Ile follow it.

Hor.What if it tempt you toward the Floud my Lord?Or to the dreadfull Sonnet of the Cliffe,That beetles o're his base into the Sea,And there assumes some other horrible forme,Which might depriue your Soueraignty of Reason,And draw you into madnesse thinke of it?

Ham.It wafts me still: goe on, Ile follow thee.

Mar.You shall not goe my Lord.

Ham.Hold off your hand.

Hor.Be rul'd, you shall not goe.

Ham.My fate cries out,And makes each petty Artire in this body,As hardy as the Nemian Lions nerue:Still am I cal'd? Vnhand me Gentlemen:By Heau'n, Ile make a Ghost of him that lets me:I say away, goe on, Ile follow thee.Exeunt Ghost & Hamlet.

Hor.He waxes desperate with imagination.

Mar.Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.

Hor.Haue after, to what issue will this come?

Mar.Something is rotten in the State of Denmarke.

Hor.Heauen will direct it.

Mar.Exeunt.Nay, let's follow him.