; 'tis not fit thus to obey him. Have after. To what issue will this come? Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. Heaven will direct it. Nay, let's follow him. Where wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no further. Mark me. I will. My hour is almost come, When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames Must render up myself. Alas, poor ghost! Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing To what I shall unfold. Speak; I am bound to hear. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear. What? I am thy father's spirit, Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confined to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purged 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 young blood, 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, Like quills upon the fretful porpentine: But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list! If thou didst ever thy dear father love-- O God! Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder. Murder! Murder most foul, as in the best it is; But this most foul, strange and unnatural. Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love, May sweep to my revenge. I find thee apt; And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear: 'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forged process of my death Rankly abused: but know, thou noble youth, The serpent that did sting thy father's life Now wears his crown. O my prophetic soul! My uncle! Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,-- O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power So to seduce!--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 whose natural gifts were poor To