Scene IV

[Elsinore. The platform before the Castle.]

Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus.

HAMLET:

The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.

HAMLET:

The air bites sharply, It is very cold.

HORATIO:

It is a nipping and an eager air.

HORATIO:

It is a nipping and an eager air.

HAMLET:

What hour now?

HAMLET:

What time is it now?

HORATIO:

I think it lacks of twelve.

HORATIO:

I think it’s just before twelve.

MARCELLUS:

No, it is struck.(5)

MARCELLUS:

No, the clock has already struck twelve.

HORATIO:

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 go off.

What doth this mean, my lord?

HORATIO:

Indeed? I didn’t hear it. Then it’s getting close to the time
When the spirit has his habit of walking.

What does that mean, my lord?

HAMLET:

The King doth wake tonight and takes his rouse,
Keeps wassail, and the swaggering upspring reels,(10)
And as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,
The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out
The triumph of his pledge.

HAMLET:

The King stays awake tonight and has a drinking party,
Keeps toasting, and the swaggering morning whirls,
And, as he drinks down his drafts of Rhine wine,
The kettle-drum and trumpet thus noisily announce
The triumph of his drinking it all down at once.

HORATIO:

Is it a custom?

HORATIO:

Is it a custom?

HAMLET:

Ay, marry, is't;(15)
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 heavy-headed revel, east and west,
Makes us traduced and tax'd of other nations;(20)
They clepe us drunkards and with swinish phrase
Soil our addition; and indeed it takes
From our achievements, though perform'd at height,
The pith and marrow of our attribute.
So, oft it chances in particular men,(25)
That for some vicious mole of nature in them,
As in their birth—wherein they are not guilty,
Since nature cannot choose his origin—
By the o'ergrowth of some complexion,
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason,(30)
Or by some habit that too much o'erleavens
The form of plausive manners, that these men—
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,
Being nature's livery, or fortune's star—
Their virtues else—be they as pure as grace,(35)
As infinite as man may undergo—
Shall in the general censure take corruption
From that particular fault. The dram of evil
Doth all the noble substance of a doubt
To his own scandal.(40)

HAMLET:

Yes, by Mary, it is,
But to my mind, though I am a native here,
And know the customs since birth, it is a custom
More honored in the braking it than the observing it.
This heavy-headed drinking from east to west
Makes us maligned and written off by other nations.
They call us drunkards, and with that swinish phrase they
Detract from our good points and, indeed, it takes away
From our achievements, although performed the best,
That are the heart and bone of our attributes.
So often it might happen in particular men
That, for some vicious disfigurement of nature in them,
Like a birthmark— something they are not guilty of
Because a man cannot choose how he is born—
By the overdevelopment of some temperament,
That often defies the intelligent use of reason,
Or by some habit, that too much exceeds
The limits of acceptable behavior, that these men,
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,
Being the result of nature, or a star of fortune,
Whatever other virtues they have, even if they are
As pure as grace, as infinite as men may have,
Shall in the general opinion be labeled corrupt
From that one particular fault. The drop of affliction
Often causes doubt about all the virtues they have
To men’s own disgrace.

Enter Ghost.

HORATIO:

Look, my lord, it comes!

HORATIO:

Look, my lord, it comes!

HAMLET:

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 hell,
Be thy intents wicked or charitable,(45)
Thou comest in such a questionable shape
That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet,
King, father, royal Dane. O, answer me!
Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell
Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death,(50)
Have burst their cerements, why the sepulchre
Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd,
Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws
To cast thee up again. What may this mean
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel,(55)
Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous, and we fools of nature
So horridly to shake our disposition
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
Say, why is this? Wherefore? What should we do?(60)

HAMLET:

Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
Whether you are a spirit of health or a goblin damned,
Bringing with you airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
Whether your intentions are wicked or charitable,
You come in such a questionable shape
That I will speak to you. I’ll call you Hamlet!
King! Father! Royal Dane! O, answer me!
Don’t let me burst in ignorance, but tell me
Why your sacred bones, buried in death,
Have escaped from the cemetery, why the tomb
Wherein we saw you quietly laid to rest,
Has opened his frightening and marble jaws
To bring you back to life! What does this mean,
That you, dead corpse, again in full armor,
Revisit us in the light and shadows of the moon,
Making night hideous, and making us fools of nature
Shake our dispositions so horridly
With thoughts that go beyond the reaches of our souls?
Say, why is this? Why? What should we do?

[Ghost beckons Hamlet.]

HORATIO:

It beckons you to go away with it,
As if it some impartment did desire
To you alone.

HORATIO:

It beckons you to go away with it,
As if it had something to say
To you alone.

MARCELLUS:

Look with what courteous action
It waves you to a more removed ground.(65)
But do not go with it!

MARCELLUS:

Look with what courteous action
It waves you to a more private ground.
But don’t go with it!

HORATIO:

No, by no means.

HORATIO:

No, by no means.

HAMLET:

It will not speak; then will I follow it.

HAMLET:

If it will not speak, then I will follow it.

HORATIO:

Do not, my lord!

HORATIO:

Don’t, my lord.

HAMLET:

Why, what should be the fear?(70)
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.

HAMLET:

Why, what should I be afraid of?
I don’t value my life at the price of a pin,
And as for my soul, what can it do to that,
Being a thing that is immortal as it is?
It waves me forward again. I’ll follow it.

HORATIO:

What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord,(75)
Or to the dreadful summit 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.(80)
The very place puts toys of desperation,
Without more motive, into every brain
That looks so many fathoms to the sea
And hears it roar beneath.

HORATIO:

What if it tempts you toward the ocean, my lord,
Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff
That hangs so threateningly over his base into the sea,
And once there, assumes some other horrible form
Which might deprive you of the ability to think,
And draw you into madness? Think about it.
The very place puts desperate ideas,
Without any motive, into every brain
That looks so many fathoms into the sea
And hears it roar beneath.

HAMLET:

It waves me still.(85)
Go on; I'll follow thee.

HAMLET:

It waves me still.
Go on, I’ll follow you.

MARCELLUS:

You shall not go, my lord.

MARCELLUS:

You shall not go, my lord.

HAMLET:

Hold off your hands!

HAMLET:

Hold off your hands.

HORATIO:

Be ruled. You shall not go.

HORATIO:

Listen to me: you shall not go.

HAMLET:

My fate cries out,(90)
And makes each petty artery in this body
As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.

[Ghost beckons.]

Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen.
By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.
I say, away! Go on. I'll follow thee.(95)

HAMLET:

My fate cries out,
And makes each and every vein in this body
As hardy as the nerve of the lion killed by Hercules.

Still I am called, let go of me, gentlemen!
By heaven, I’ll make a ghost of him that holds me back!
I say, get away from me! Go on, I’ll follow you.

Exit Ghost and Hamlet.

HORATIO:

He waxes desperate with imagination.

HORATIO:

He’s getting crazy with expectation!

MARCELLUS:

Let's follow. 'tis not fit thus to obey him.

MARCELLUS:

Let's follow, it’s not right to obey his orders now.

HORATIO:

Have after. To what issue will this come?

HORATIO:

Let’s do it. What will all this lead to?

MARCELLUS:

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

MARCELLUS:

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

HORATIO:

Heaven will direct it.(100)

HORATIO:

Heaven will guide its course.

MARCELLUS:

Nay, let's follow him.

MARCELLUS:

No, let's follow him.

Exeunt.