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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,

And to the manner born,-it is a custom

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More honoured in the breach than the observance.

This heavy-headed revel, east and west

Makes us traduced and taxed of other nations:

They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase Soil our addition; and, indeed, it takes

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From our achievements, though performed at height,

The pith and marrow of our attribute.
So, oft it chances in particular men

That for some vicious mole of nature in them,
As, in their birth, (wherein they are not guilty,
Since nature cannot choose his origin,)
By their o'ergrowth of some complexion,

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Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason;
Or by some habit, that too much o'er-leavens
The form of plausive manners ;-that these men,—
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,
Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,—
Their virtues else, be they as pure as grace,
As infinite as man may undergo,

Shall in the general censure take corruption
From that particular fault: the dram of eale
Doth all the noble substance often dout

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Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damned,

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Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from

hell,

Be thy intents wicked, or charitable,

'Thou com'st in such a questionable shape

That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet,
King, father, royal Dane: O answer me,
Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell,

Why thy canónised bones, hearsed in death,
Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urned,

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,
So horridly to shake our disposition,

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?

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Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we

do?

[The Ghost beckons. Hor. It beckons you to go away with it,

As if it some impartment did desire

To you
Mar.

alone.

Look, with what courteous action

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It waves you to a more removéd ground:

But do not go with it.

Hor.

No, by no means.

Ham. It will not speak: then will I follow

it.

Hor. Do not, my lord

Ham.

fear?

Why, what should be the

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,

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 .c:
The very place puts toys of desperation,
Without more motive. into every brain

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That looks so many fathoms to the sea
And hears it roar beneath.

Ham. It waves me still go on, I'll follow

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And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Némean lion's nerve.—

[The Ghost beckons.

Still am I called.-Unhand me, gentlemen,—

[Breaking from them.

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; 't is not fit thus to obey

him.

Hor. Have after. To what issue will this

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SCENE V.-A more remote Part of the Platform.

Enter Ghost and HAMLET.

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

Must render up myself.

Ham.

Alas, poor ghost!

Ghost. Pity me not; but lend thy serious

hearing

To what I shall unfold.

Ham.

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;

Doomed for a certain term to walk the night, 10
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

To tell the secrets of my prison-house,

I could a tale unfold whose lightest word

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