The Best of Shakespeare:. William Shakespeare

not I.

       Mar.

       Nor I, my lord, in faith.

       Ham.

       Upon my sword.

       Mar.

       We have sworn, my lord, already.

       Ham.

       Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.

       Ghost.

       [Beneath.] Swear.

       Ham.

       Ha, ha boy! say’st thou so? art thou there, truepenny?—

       Come on!—you hear this fellow in the cellarage,—

       Consent to swear.

       Hor.

       Propose the oath, my lord.

       Ham.

       Never to speak of this that you have seen,

       Swear by my sword.

       Ghost.

       [Beneath.] Swear.

       Ham.

       Hic et ubique? then we’ll shift our ground.—

       Come hither, gentlemen,

       And lay your hands again upon my sword:

       Never to speak of this that you have heard,

       Swear by my sword.

       Ghost.

       [Beneath.] Swear.

       Ham.

       Well said, old mole! canst work i’ the earth so fast?

       A worthy pioner!—Once more remove, good friends.

       Hor.

       O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!

       Ham.

       And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.

       There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

       Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

       But come;—

       Here, as before, never, so help you mercy,

       How strange or odd soe’er I bear myself,—

       As I, perchance, hereafter shall think meet

       To put an antic disposition on,—

       That you, at such times seeing me, never shall,

       With arms encumber’d thus, or this head-shake,

       Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,

       As ‘Well, well, we know’; or ‘We could, an if we would’;—

       Or ‘If we list to speak’; or ‘There be, an if they might’;—

       Or such ambiguous giving out, to note

       That you know aught of me:—this is not to do,

       So grace and mercy at your most need help you,

       Swear.

       Ghost.

       [Beneath.] Swear.

       Ham.

       Rest, rest, perturbed spirit!—So, gentlemen,

       With all my love I do commend me to you:

       And what so poor a man as Hamlet is

       May do, to express his love and friending to you,

       God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together;

       And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.

       The time is out of joint:—O cursed spite,

       That ever I was born to set it right!—

       Nay, come, let’s go together.

       [Exeunt.]

       ACT II.

       SCENE I. A room in Polonius’s house.

       [Enter Polonius and Reynaldo.]

       Pol.

       Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo.

       Rey.

       I will, my lord.

       Pol.

       You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynaldo,

       Before You visit him, to make inquiry

       Of his behaviour.

       Rey.

       My lord, I did intend it.

       Pol.

       Marry, well said; very well said. Look you, sir,

       Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris;

       And how, and who, what means, and where they keep,

       What company, at what expense; and finding,

       By this encompassment and drift of question,

       That they do know my son, come you more nearer

       Than your particular demands will touch it:

       Take you, as ‘twere, some distant knowledge of him;

       As thus, ‘I know his father and his friends,

       And in part him;—do you mark this, Reynaldo?

       Rey.

       Ay, very well, my lord.

       Pol.

       ‘And in part him;—but,’ you may say, ‘not well:

       But if’t be he I mean, he’s very wild;

       Addicted so and so;’ and there put on him

       What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank

       As may dishonour him; take heed of that;

       But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips

       As are companions noted and most known

       To youth and liberty.

       Rey.

       As gaming, my lord.

       Pol.

       Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling,

       Drabbing:—you may go so far.

       Rey.

       My lord, that would dishonour him.

       Pol.

       Faith, no; as you may season it in the charge.

       You must not put another scandal on him,

       That he is open to incontinency;

       That’s not my meaning: but breathe his faults so quaintly

       That they may seem the taints of liberty;

       The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind;

       A savageness in unreclaimed blood,

       Of general assault.

       Rey.

       But, my good lord,—

       Pol.

       Wherefore should you do this?

       Rey.

       Ay, my lord,

       I would know that.

       Pol.

       Marry, sir, here’s my drift;

       And I believe it is a fetch of warrant:

       You laying these slight sullies on my son

       As ‘twere a thing a little soil’d i’ the working,

       Mark you,

       Your party in converse, him you would sound,

       Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes

       The youth you breathe of guilty, be assur’d

       He closes with you in this consequence;

       ‘Good sir,’ or so;