_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.
_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 the royal bed of Denmark be A couch for luxury[113] and damnèd incest. But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act, Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive Against thy mother aught: leave her to Heaven, And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge, To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once! The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, And 'gins to pale his ineffectual fire:[114] Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me.
_Ham._ Hold, hold, my heart; And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up.--Remember thee! Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat In this distracted globe.[115] Remember thee! Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all forms, all pressures past,[116] And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven, I have sworn't.