And hold her free, I do beseech your Honour. IAGO. I once more take my leave. SHAKSPEARE. CHAP. XXVIII, HAMLET'S SOLILOQY ON HIS MOTHER'S OH that this too solid flesh would melt, How weary stale, flat, and unprofitable, Fie on't! oh fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in nature, Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother, That he permitted not the winds of heav'n Visit her face too roughly. Heav'n and earth! By what it fed on; yet within a month, Let me not think-Frailty, thy name is woman! (O Heav'n! a beast that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourn'd longer-) married with mine uncle, My father's brother; but no more like my father, Than I to Hercules. Within a month!- It is not, nor it cannot come to good. But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue. Ham. ANGELS and ministers of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heav'n, or blasts from hell, ́ Be thy intent wicked or charitable, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet, With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? 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 fire : I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood; list, list, oh list! Ham. O heav'n! Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murther. Ham. Murther? Ghost. Murther 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 as swift As meditation, or the thoughts of love, May fly to my revenge. Ghost. I find thee apt; And duller should'st thou be, than the fat weed That roots itself in ease on Lethe's wharf, Would'st thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear; Tis giv'n out, that, sleeping in my orchard, A serpant stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark Rankly abus'd: but know, thou noble youth, Ham. Oh, my prophetic soul! my uncle! Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand, Ham. Oh horrible! oh horrible! most horrible! And 'gins to pale his ineffectual fire. Adieu, adieu, adieu: remember me. Ham. Oh, all you host of heav'n! oh earth! what else! And shall I couple hell? oh fie! hold my heart! And you, my sinews, grow not instant old; But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee! I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, SHAKSPEARE. CHAP. XXX. HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY ON DEATH. TO be, or not to be ?-that is the question. The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks To sleep! perchance to dream!—ay, there's the rub; Must give us pause.- -There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life: For who would bear the whips and scorns o'th' time, Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's comtumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns |