Hamlet Page #2

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we beseech you bend you to remain here,

in the cheer and comfort of our eye,

our chiefest courtier,

cousin, and our son.

Let not thy mother lose her prayers,

Hamlet:

I pray thee stay with us;

go not to Wittenberg.

I shall in all my best obey you, madam.

Why, 'tis a fair and loving reply.

Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come;

this gentle and unforc'd accord

of Hamlet sits smiling in my heart;

in grace whereof, no jocund health

that Denmark drinks today,

but the great cannon

to the clouds shall tell,

and the King's rouse the heavens

shall bruit again,

re-speaking earthly thunder.

O, that this too too sullied 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! O 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 should 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 followed

my poor father's body,

Iike 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.

Hail to your lordship.

I am glad to see you well.

Horatio, or I do forget myself.

The same, my lord,

and your poor servant ever.

Sir, my good friend,

I'll change that name with you.

And what make you from Wittenberg,

Horatio?

Marcellus. I am very glad to see you.

Good even, sir. But what, in faith,

make you from Wittenberg?

- A truant disposition, good my lord.

- I would not hear your enemy say so.

But what is your affair in Elsinore? We'll

teach you to drink deep ere you depart.

My lord,

I came to see your father's funeral.

I prithee, do not mock me, fellow-student;

I think it was to see

my mother's wedding.

Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.

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