Tragedies: The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Romeo and Juliet. Macbeth / Трагедии: Трагедия Гамлета, принца Датского. Ромео и Джульетта. Макбет. Уильям Шекспир

I say, the stamp of one defect,

      Being Nature’s livery or Fortune’s star,-

      His virtues else, – be they as pure as grace,

      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 often doubt

      To his own scandal.

      HORATIO.

      Look, my lord, it comes!

      Enter Ghost.

      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,

      Thou com’st 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 canoniz’d bones, hearsed in death,

      Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre,

      Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn’d,

      Hath op’d his ponderous and marble jaws

      To cast thee up again! What may this mean,

      That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel,

      Revisit’st 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?

      [Ghost beckons Hamlet.]

      HORATIO.

      It beckons you to go away with it,

      As if it some impartment did desire

      To you alone.

      MARCELLUS.

      Look with what courteous action

      It waves you to a more removed ground.

      But do not go with it.

      HORATIO.

      No, by no means.

      HAMLET.

      It will not speak; then will I follow it.

      HORATIO.

      Do not, my lord.

      HAMLET.

      Why, what should be the fear?

      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.

      HORATIO.

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

      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.

      The very place puts toys of desperation,

      Without more motive, into every brain

      That looks so many fadoms to the sea

      And hears it roar beneath.

      HAMLET.

      It waves me still.

      Go on, I’ll follow thee.

      MARCELLUS.

      You shall not go, my lord.

      HAMLET.

      Hold off your hands.

      HORATIO.

      Be rul’d; you shall not go.

      HAMLET.

      My fate cries out,

      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.

      [Breaking free from them.]

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

      I say, away! – Go on, I’ll follow thee.

      [Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet.]

      HORATIO.

      He waxes desperate with imagination.

      MARCELLUS.

      Let’s follow; ’tis not fit thus to obey him.

      HORATIO.

      Have after. To what issue will this come?

      MARCELLUS.

      Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

      HORATIO.

      Heaven will direct it.

      MARCELLUS.

      Nay, let’s follow him.

      [Exeunt.]

      Scene V

      A more remote part of the Castle.

      Enter Ghost and Hamlet.

      HAMLET.

      Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak, I’ll go no further.

      GHOST.

      Mark me.

      HAMLET.

      I will.

      GHOST.

      My hour is almost come,

      When I to sulph’rous and tormenting flames

      Must render up myself.

      HAMLET.

      Alas, poor ghost!

      GHOST.

      Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing

      To what I shall unfold.

      HAMLET.

      Speak, I am bound to hear.

      GHOST.

      So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.

      HAMLET.

      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 fires,

      Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature

      Are burnt and purg’d away. But that I am forbid

      To tell the secrets of my prison-house,

      I could a tale unfold whose lightest word

      Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy