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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 porpentine.

      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 —

Hamlet

      O God!

Ghost

      Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

Hamlet

      Murder!

Ghost

      Murder most foul, as in the best it is;

      But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.

Hamlet

      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 noble youth,

      The serpent that did sting thy father's life

      Now wears his crown.

Hamlet

      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 lust

      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 lust, 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 damned 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 prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!

      The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,

      And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire.

      Adieu, adieu, adieu. Remember me.

      [Exit]

Hamlet

      O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else?

      And shall I couple hell? 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 damned 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.

Horatio and Marcellus

      [Within]

      My lord, my lord.

Marcellus

      [Within]

      Lord Hamlet.

Horatio

      [Within]

      Heaven secure him.

Hamlet

      So be it!

Marcellus

      [Within]

      Illo, ho, ho, my lord!

Hamlet

      Hillo,

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