Hamlet - BestLightNovel.com
You’re reading novel Hamlet Part 5 online at BestLightNovel.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit BestLightNovel.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
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; Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confin'd to wastein fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid 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, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porcupine: 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 G.o.d!
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, May sweep to my revenge.
Ghost.
I find thee apt; And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear.
'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forged process of my death Rankly abus'd; but know, thou n.o.ble youth, The serpent that did sting thy father's life Now wears his crown.
Ham.
O my prophetic soul!
Mine uncle!
Ghost.
Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,-- O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power So to seduce!--won to his shameful l.u.s.t The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen: O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!
From me, whose love was of that dignity 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 mov'd, Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven; So l.u.s.t, 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; Brief let me be.--Sleeping within my orchard, My custom always of the afternoon, Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial, And in the porches of my ears did pour 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 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.
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, Unhous'led, disappointed, unanel'd; No reckoning made, but sent to my account 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 d.a.m.ned incest.
But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act, Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive Against thy mother aught: leave her to heaven, And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge, To p.r.i.c.k and sting her. Fare thee well at once!
The glowworm shows the matin to be near, And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire: Adieu, adieu! Hamlet, remember me.
[Exit.]
Ham.
O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else?
And shall I couple h.e.l.l? O, fie!--Hold, my heart; And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up.--Remember thee!
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember thee!
Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there; And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven!-- O most pernicious woman!
O villain, villain, smiling, d.a.m.ned villain!
My tables,--meet it is I set it down, That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; At least, I am sure, it may be so in Denmark: [Writing.]
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word; It is 'Adieu, adieu! remember me:'
I have sworn't.
Hor.
[Within.] My lord, my lord,-- Mar.
[Within.] Lord Hamlet,-- Hor.
[Within.] Heaven secure him!
Ham.
So be it!
Mar.
[Within.] Illo, ho, ho, my lord!
Ham.
Hillo, ho, ho, boy! Come, bird, come.
[Enter Horatio and Marcellus.]
Mar.
How is't, my n.o.ble lord?
Hor.
What news, my lord?
Ham.
O, wonderful!
Hor.
Good my lord, tell it.
Ham.
No; you'll 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. and 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 i' the right; And so, without more circ.u.mstance at all, I hold it fit that we shake hands and part: You, as your business and desires shall point you,-- For every man hath business and desire, Such as it is;--and for my own poor part, Look you, I'll go pray.
Hor.
These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.
Ham.
I'm 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'ermaster't 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 to-night.
Hor. and Mar.
My lord, we will not.
Ham.
Nay, but swear't.
Hor.
In faith, My lord, not I.
Mar.
Nor I, my lord, in faith.