d;
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres;
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end,[102]
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:[103]
But this eternal blazon[104] must not be
To ears of flesh and blood.--List, list, O, list!--
If thou didst ever thy dear father love,----

_Ham._ O Heaven!

_Ghost._ Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

_Ham._ Murder!

_Ghost._ Murder 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 sweep to my revenge.

_Ghost._ I find thee apt;
And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,[105]
Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:
'Tis given out that, sleeping in mine orchard,[106]
A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process[107] of my death
Rankly abus'd: but know, thou noble youth,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life
Now wears his crown.

_Ham._ O, my prophetic soul! my uncle!

_Ghost._ Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,
Won to his shameful lust
The will of my most seeming virtuous queen:
O, Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!
From me, whose love was of that dignity,
That it went hand in hand even with the vow
I made to her in marriage; and to decline
Upon a wretch,[108] whose natural gifts were poor
To those of mine!
But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air;
Brief let me be.--Sleeping within mine orchard,
My custom always in the afternoon,
Upon my secure[109] hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of cursed hebenon[110] in a vial,
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
The leperous distilment; whose effect
Holds such an enmity with blood of man,
That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through
The natural gates and alleys of the body;
So did it mine;
Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand
Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despatch'd:[111]
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd;[112]
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head.

_Ham._ O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!

_Ghost._ If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;
Let not