« PředchozíPokračovat »
But mere implorators of unholy suits,
scene IV. The Platform.
I think it lacks of twelve. Mar. No, it is struck. 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
bis rouse, Keeps wassel, and the swaggering up-spring
reels; And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge. Hor.
Is it a custom? Ham. Ay, marry, is 't: But to my mind,-though I am native here, And to the manner born, it is a custom More honour'd in the breach than the observance. This beavy-headed revel, east and west, Makes us traduc'd, and tax'd of other nations : They clepe us, drunkards, and, with swinish
phrase Soil our addition; and, indeed it takes From our achievements, though perform'd at
beight, 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),
Look, my lord, it comes ! Ham, Angels and ministers of grace, defend
us!Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from
Hor. It beckons you to go away with it,
Mar. Look, with what courteous action
No, by no means. Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it. Hor. Do not, my lord. · Ham. Why, what should be the fear? 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 sommit 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: The very place puts toys of desperation, Without more motive, into every brain, That looks so many fathoms to the sea, And bears it roar beneath. Ham.
It waves me still. Go on, I'll follow thee. Mar. You shall not go, my lord.
Hold off your hands. Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not go. Ham.
My fate cries out, And makes each petty artery in this body As bardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.
(Ghost beckons. Still am I call’d;-unband me, gentlemen ;
[Breaking from them. By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets 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 ? Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Den
mark Hor. Heaven will direct it. Mar.
Nay, let's follow him.
scene V. A more remote Part of the Platform.
Re-enter Ghost and HAMLET. Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? speak, I'll
go no further. Ghost. Mark me. Ham.
I will. Ghost.
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; Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night; And, for the day, confin'd to fast in 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
Ham. O heaven !
Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is ; But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. Ham. Haste me to know it; that I, with wings
I find thee apt;
And doller should'st thou be than the fat weed That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, Would'st 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 Rankly abus'd: but know, ihou noble youth, The serpent that did sting thy father's life, Now wears his crown.
Ham. O, my prophetick soul! my uncle !.
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 despatch’d;