The air bites shrewd; it is an eager and

4.2605412A nipping wind. What hour is't?

I think it lacks of twelve.

No, 'tis struck.

Indeed, I heard it not. What doth this mean, my lord?

Oh, the King doth wake tonight, and takes his rouse,

4.7613417Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels,

4.8614418And as he dreams, his draughts of Rhenish down,

4.9615419The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out

4.10616420The triumphs of his pledge.

Is it a custom here?

Ay, marry, is't, and, though I am

4.13619423Native here and to the manner borne,

4.14620424It is a custom more honored in the breach

4.15621425Than in the observance.

Look, my lord, it comes!

Angels and ministers of grace defend us!

4.18625429Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned,

4.19626430Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,

4.20627431Be thy intents wicked or charitable,

4.21628432Thou comest in such questionable shape

4.22629433That I will speak to thee.

4.23434I'll call thee Hamlet, king, father, royal Dane.

4.24630435Oh, answer me! Let me not burst in ignorance,

4.25631436But say why thy canonized bones, hearsèd in death,

4.26633437Have burst their ceremonies, why thy sepulcher,

4.27634438In which we saw thee quietly interred,

4.28635439Hath burst his ponderous and marble jaws

4.29636440To cast thee up again. What may this mean

4.30637441That thou, dead corse, again in compleat steel,

4.31638442Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon,

4.32639443Making night hideous, and we fools of nature,

4.33640444So horridly to shake our disposition

4.34641445With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?

4.35642446Say, speak, wherefore? What may this mean?

It beckons you, as though it had something

4.37645448To impart to you alone.

Look with what courteous action

4.39648450It waves you to a more removèd ground.

4.40649451But do not go with it.

No, by no means, my lord.

It will not speak. Then will I follow it.

What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord,

4.44660455That beckles o'er his base into the sea,

4.45661456And there assume some other horrible shape

4.46662457Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason

4.47663458And drive you into madness? Think of it.

Still am I called.--Go on, I'll follow thee.

My lord, you shall not go.

Why, what should be the fear?

4.51654462I do not set my life at a pin's fee,

4.52655463And, for my soul, what can it do to that,

4.53656464Being a thing immortal like itself?--

4.54465Go on, I'll follow thee.

My lord, be ruled, you shall not go.

My fate cries out, and makes each petty artery

4.57670468As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.

4.58671469Still am I called. Unhand me, gentlemen!

4.59672470By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.

4.60673471Away, I say!--Go on, I'll follow thee.

He waxeth desperate with imagination.

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

Have after. To what issue will this sort?

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