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very strange.

Horatio

      As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true;

      And we did think it writ down in our duty

      To let you know of it.

Hamlet

      Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.

      Hold you the watch tonight?

Marcellus and Barnardo

      We do, my lord.

Hamlet

      Arm'd, say you?

Both

      Arm'd, my lord.

Hamlet

      From top to toe?

Both

      My lord, from head to foot.

Hamlet

      Then saw you not his face?

Horatio

      O yes, my lord, he wore his beaver up.

Hamlet

      What, look'd he frowningly?

Horatio

      A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.

Hamlet

      Pale, or red?

Horatio

      Nay, very pale.

Hamlet

      And fix'd his eyes upon you?

Horatio

      Most constantly.

Hamlet

      I would I had been there.

Horatio

      It would have much amaz'd you.

Hamlet

      Very like, very like. Stay'd it long?

Horatio

      While one with moderate haste might tell

                               a hundred.

Marcellus and Barnardo

      Longer, longer.

Horatio

      Not when I saw't.

Hamlet

      His beard was grizzled, no?

Horatio

      It was, as I have seen it in his life,

      A sable silver'd.

Hamlet

      I will watch tonight;

      Perchance 'twill walk again.

Horatio

      I warrant you it will.

Hamlet

      If it assume my noble father's person,

      I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape

      And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,

      If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,

      Let it be tenable in your silence still;

      And whatsoever else shall hap tonight,

      Give it an understanding, but no tongue.

      I will requite your loves. So, fare ye well.

      Upon the platform 'twixt eleven and twelve,

      I'll visit you.

All

      Our duty to your honour.

Hamlet

      Your loves, as mine to you: farewell.

      [Exeunt Horatio, Marcellus and Barnardo]

      My father's spirit in arms! All is not well;

      I doubt some foul play: would the night

           were come!

      Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise,

      Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's

           eyes.

      [Exit]

      Scene III

      A room in Polonius's house

      Enter Laertes and Ophelia

Laertes

      My necessaries are embark'd. Farewell.

      And, sister, as the winds give benefit

      And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,

      But let me hear from you.

Ophelia

      Do you doubt that?

Laertes

      For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,

      Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood;

      A violet in the youth of primy nature,

      Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting;

      The perfume and suppliance of a minute;

      No more.

Ophelia

      No more but so?

Laertes

      Think it no more.

      For nature crescent does not grow alone

      In thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes,

      The inward service of the mind and soul

      Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,

      And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch

      The virtue of his will; but you must fear,

      His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;

      For he himself is subject to his birth:

      He may not, as unvalu'd persons do,

      Carve for himself; for on his choice depends

      The sanctity and health of this whole state;

      And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd

      Unto the voice and yielding of that body

      Whereof he is the head. Then if he says

                               he loves you,

      It fits your wisdom so far to believe it

      As he in his particular act and place

      May give his saying deed; which is no further

      Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.

      Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain

      If with too credent ear you list his songs,

      Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open

      To his unmaster'd importunity.

      Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister;

      And keep you in the rear of your affection,

      Out of the shot and danger of desire.

      The chariest maid is prodigal enough

      If she unmask her beauty to the moon.

      Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes:

      The canker galls the infants of the spring

      Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd,

      And in the morn and liquid dew of youth

      Contagious blastments are most imminent.

      Be wary then, best safety lies in fear.

      Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

Ophelia

      I shall th'effect of this good lesson keep

      As watchman to my heart. But good my brother,

      Do not as some ungracious pastors do,

      Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;

      Whilst like a puff'd and reckless libertine

      Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,

      And recks not his own rede.

Laertes

      O, fear me not.

      I stay too long. But here my father comes.

      [Enter Polonius]

      A double blessing

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