Act I, SCENE II.A room of state in the castle.  | 
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    Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, HAMLET, POLONIUS, LAERTES, VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, Lords, and Attendants 
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KING CLAUDIUS 
    Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death 
    The memory be green, and that it us befitted 
    To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom 
    To be contracted in one brow of woe, 
    Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature 
    That we with wisest sorrow think on him, 
    Together with remembrance of ourselves. 
    Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, 
    The imperial jointress to this warlike state, 
    Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,-- 
    With an auspicious and a dropping eye, 
    With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage, 
    In equal scale weighing delight and dole,-- 
    Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr'd 
    Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone 
    With this affair along. For all, our thanks. 
    Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras, 
    Holding a weak supposal of our worth, 
    Or thinking by our late dear brother's death 
    Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, 
    Colleagued with the dream of his advantage, 
    He hath not fail'd to pester us with message, 
    Importing the surrender of those lands 
    Lost by his father, with all bonds of law, 
    To our most valiant brother. So much for him. 
    Now for ourself and for this time of meeting: 
    Thus much the business is: we have here writ 
    To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,-- 
    Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears 
    Of this his nephew's purpose,--to suppress 
    His further gait herein; in that the levies, 
    The lists and full proportions, are all made 
    Out of his subject: and we here dispatch 
    You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand, 
    For bearers of this greeting to old Norway; 
    Giving to you no further personal power 
    To business with the king, more than the scope 
    Of these delated articles allow. 
    Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty. 
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CORNELIUS VOLTIMAND 
    In that and all things will we show our duty.
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KING CLAUDIUS 
    We doubt it nothing: heartily farewell.
    Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS 
    And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? 
    You told us of some suit; what is't, Laertes? 
    You cannot speak of reason to the Dane, 
    And loose your voice: what wouldst thou beg, Laertes, 
    That shall not be my offer, not thy asking? 
    The head is not more native to the heart, 
    The hand more instrumental to the mouth, 
    Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. 
    What wouldst thou have, Laertes?
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LAERTES 
    My dread lord, 
    Your leave and favour to return to France; 
    From whence though willingly I came to Denmark, 
    To show my duty in your coronation, 
    Yet now, I must confess, that duty done, 
    My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France 
    And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
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KING CLAUDIUS 
    Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius? 
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LORD POLONIUS 
    He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave 
    By laboursome petition, and at last 
    Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent: 
    I do beseech you, give him leave to go. 
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KING CLAUDIUS 
    Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine, 
    And thy best graces spend it at thy will! 
    But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,-- 
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HAMLET 
    [Aside] A little more than kin, and less than kind. 
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KING CLAUDIUS 
    How is it that the clouds still hang on you? 
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HAMLET 
    Not so, my lord; I am too much i' the sun.
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QUEEN GERTRUDE 
    Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, 
    And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. 
    Do not for ever with thy vailed lids 
    Seek for thy noble father in the dust: 
    Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, 
    Passing through nature to eternity.
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HAMLET 
    Ay, madam, it is common.
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QUEEN GERTRUDE 
    If it be, 
    Why seems it so particular with thee?
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HAMLET 
    Seems, madam! nay it is; I know not 'seems.' 
    'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, 
    Nor customary suits of solemn black, 
    Nor windy suspiration of forced breath, 
    No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, 
    Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage, 
    Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief, 
    That can denote me truly: these indeed seem, 
    For they are actions that a man might play: 
    But I have that within which passeth show; 
    These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
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KING CLAUDIUS 
    'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, 
    To give these mourning duties to your father: 
    But, you must know, your father lost a father; 
    That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound 
    In filial obligation for some term 
    To do obsequious sorrow: but to persever 
    In obstinate condolement is a course 
    Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief; 
    It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, 
    A heart unfortified, a mind impatient, 
    An understanding simple and unschool'd: 
    For what we know must be and is as common 
    As any the most vulgar thing to sense, 
    Why should we in our peevish opposition 
    Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven, 
    A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, 
    To reason most absurd: whose common theme 
    Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried, 
    From the first corse till he that died to-day, 
    'This must be so.' We pray you, throw to earth 
    This unprevailing woe, and think of us 
    As of a father: for let the world take note, 
    You are the most immediate to our throne; 
    And with no less nobility of love 
    Than that which dearest father bears his son, 
    Do I impart toward you. For your intent 
    In going back to school in Wittenberg, 
    It is most retrograde to our desire: 
    And we beseech you, bend you to remain 
    Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye, 
    Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.
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QUEEN GERTRUDE 
    Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet: 
    I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.
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HAMLET 
    I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
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KING CLAUDIUS 
    Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply: 
    Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come; 
    This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet 
    Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof, 
    No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day, 
    But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell, 
    And the king's rouse the heavens all bruit again, 
    Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.
    Exeunt all but HAMLET 
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HAMLET 
    O, that this too too solid flesh would melt 
    Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! 
    Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd 
    His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! 
    How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, 
    Seem to me all the uses of this world! 
    Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, 
    That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature 
    Possess it merely. That it should come to this! 
    But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: 
    So excellent a king; that was, to this, 
    Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother 
    That he might not beteem the winds of heaven 
    Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! 
    Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, 
    As if increase of appetite had grown 
    By what it fed on: and yet, within a month-- 
    Let me not think on't--Frailty, thy name is woman!-- 
    A little month, or ere those shoes were old 
    With which she follow'd my poor father's body, 
    Like Niobe, all tears:--why she, even she-- 
    O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, 
    Would have mourn'd longer--married with my uncle, 
    My father's brother, but no more like my father 
    Than I to Hercules: within a month: 
    Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears 
    Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, 
    She married. O, most wicked speed, to post 
    With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! 
    It is not nor it cannot come to good: 
    But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.
    Enter HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO 
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HORATIO 
    Hail to your lordship!
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HAMLET 
    I am glad to see you well: 
    Horatio,--or I do forget myself.
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HORATIO 
    The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.
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HAMLET 
    Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you: 
    And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? Marcellus?
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MARCELLUS 
    My good lord--
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HAMLET 
    I am very glad to see you. Good even, sir. 
    But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?
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HORATIO 
    A truant disposition, good my lord.
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HAMLET 
    I would not hear your enemy say so, 
    Nor shall you do mine ear that violence, 
    To make it truster of your own report 
    Against yourself: I know you are no truant. 
    But what is your affair in Elsinore? 
    We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
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HORATIO 
    My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.
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HAMLET 
    I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student; 
    I think it was to see my mother's wedding.
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HORATIO 
    Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.
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HAMLET 
    Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked meats 
    Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. 
    Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven 
    Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio! 
    My father!--methinks I see my father.
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HORATIO 
    Where, my lord?
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HAMLET 
    In my mind's eye, Horatio.
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HORATIO 
    I saw him once; he was a goodly king.
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HAMLET 
    He was a man, take him for all in all, 
    I shall not look upon his like again.
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HORATIO 
    My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
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HAMLET 
    Saw? who?
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HORATIO 
    My lord, the king your father.
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HAMLET 
    The king my father!
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HORATIO 
    Season your admiration for awhile 
    With an attent ear, till I may deliver, 
    Upon the witness of these gentlemen, 
    This marvel to you.
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HAMLET 
    For God's love, let me hear.
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HORATIO 
    Two nights together had these gentlemen, 
    Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, 
    In the dead vast and middle of the night, 
    Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father, 
    Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe, 
    Appears before them, and with solemn march 
    Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd 
    By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes, 
    Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distilled 
    Almost to jelly with the act of fear, 
    Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me 
    In dreadful secrecy impart they did; 
    And I with them the third night kept the watch; 
    Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time, 
    Form of the thing, each word made true and good, 
    The apparition comes: I knew your father; 
    These hands are not more like.
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HAMLET 
    But where was this?
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MARCELLUS 
    My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.
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HAMLET 
    Did you not speak to it?
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HORATIO 
    My lord, I did; 
    But answer made it none: yet once methought 
    It lifted up its head and did address 
    Itself to motion, like as it would speak; 
    But even then the morning cock crew loud, 
    And at the sound it shrunk in haste away, 
    And vanish'd from our sight.
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HAMLET 
    'Tis very strange.
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HORATIO 
    As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true; 
    And we did think it writ down in our duty 
    To let you know of it.
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HAMLET 
    Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. 
    Hold you the watch to-night?
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MARCELLUS BERNARDO  
    We do, my lord.
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HAMLET 
    Arm'd, say you?
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MARCELLUS BERNARDO  
    Arm'd, my lord.
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HAMLET 
    From top to toe?
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MARCELLUS BERNARDO  
    My lord, from head to foot.
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HAMLET 
    Then saw you not his face?
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HORATIO 
    O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.
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HAMLET 
    What, look'd he frowningly?
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HORATIO 
    A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
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HAMLET 
    Pale or red?
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HORATIO 
    Nay, very pale.
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HAMLET 
    And fix'd his eyes upon you?
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HORATIO 
    Most constantly.
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HAMLET 
    I would I had been there.
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HORATIO 
    It would have much amazed you.
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HAMLET 
    Very like, very like. Stay'd it long?
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HORATIO 
    While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
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MARCELLUS  BERNARDO
    Longer, longer.
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HORATIO 
    Not when I saw't.
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HAMLET 
    His beard was grizzled--no?
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HORATIO 
    It was, as I have seen it in his life, 
    A sable silver'd.
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HAMLET 
    I will watch to-night; 
    Perchance 'twill walk again.
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HORATIO 
    I warrant it will.
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HAMLET 
    If it assume my noble father's person, 
    I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape 
    And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, 
    If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, 
    Let it be tenable in your silence still; 
    And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, 
    Give it an understanding, but no tongue: 
    I will requite your loves. So, fare you well: 
    Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve, 
    I'll visit you.
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All 
    Our duty to your honour.
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HAMLET 
    Your loves, as mine to you: farewell.
    Exeunt all but HAMLET 
    My father's spirit in arms! all is not well; 
    I doubt some foul play: would the night were come! 
    Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise, 
    Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. 
    Exit 
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