CHA P. X II I.

Hamlet and Horatio.

Hor.HALL, to your lordship!

Ham. I am glad to see you well; Horatio or I do forget myself.

Hor. The same, my Lord, and your poor servant

ever.

Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change that
name with you.

And what makes you from Wittenberg, Horatio?
Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.
Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so;
Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself. I know you are no truant;
But what is your affair in Elsinore?

We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
Hor. My lord, 1 came to see your father's fu-

neral.

Ham. I pr'ythee do not mock me,

dent;

fellow-stu

I think it was to see my mother's wedding.

Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon't.
Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio; the funeral bak'd

meats

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage-tables.
Would I had met my dearest foe in heav'n,
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!
My father-methinks I see my
Hor. Oh! where, my lord?

father.

Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio,

Hor. I saw him once, he was a goodly king.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,

I shall not look upon his like again.

Hor. My lord; I think I saw him yesternight.
Ham. Saw! —who?

Hor. My lord, the king your father!

Ham. The king my father!

Hor. Season your admiration but a while

With an attentive ear; till I deliver
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.

Ham. For Heaven's love, let me hear. Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen, Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, In the dead waste, and middle of the night, Been thus encounter'd: A figure, like your father, Arm'd at all points exactly, cap-à-pe,

Appears before them, and with solemn march
Goes slow and stately by them! thrice he walk'd
By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes
Within his truncheon's length; whilst they (dis
till'd

Almost to jelly with th' effect of fear)
Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did,

And I with them the third night kept the watch:
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes. I knew your father;
These hands are not more like.

Ham. But where was this?

Hor. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.

Ham. Did you speak to it?

Hor. My lord, I did:

But answer made it none. Yet once methought
It lifted up its head, and did address

It self to motion, like as it would speak,
But

even then the morning cock crew loud; And at the sound it shrunk in haste

And vanish'd from our sight.

Ham. 'Tis very strange.

away,

Hor. 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.

Ham. Indeed, indeed, Sir, but this troubles me. Hold you the watch to night?

Hor. We do, my lord.

Ham. Arm'd, say you?

Hor. Arm'd, my lord.

Ham. From top to toe?

Hor. My lord, from head to foo".
Ham. Then saw you not his face?

Hor. Oh, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up. Ham. What, look'd he frowningly?

Hor. A count'nance more in sorrow than in anger.

Ham. Pale, or red?

Hor. Nay, very pale.

Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you?

Hor. Most constantly.

Ham. I would I had been there!

Hor. It would have much amaz'd

Ham. Very like. Staid it long?

you.

Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.

Ham. His beard was grisl'd?-no

Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, A sable silver'd.

Ham. I'll watch to night; perchance 'twill walk again.

Hor. I warrant you, it will.

Ham. If it assumes my

noble father's person, I'll speak to it, tho' hell itself should gape, And bid me hold my peace. I pray you,

If

you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, Let it be ten'ble in your silence still: And whatsoever shall befal to night, Give it an understanding, but no tongue; I will requite your love: so fare you well. Upon the platform 'twixt eleven and twelve I' visit you. SHAKESPEARE,

Cas. W

CHAP. XIV.

Brutus and Cassius.

ILL you go see the order of the course?

Bru. Not I.

Cas. I pray you,

de.

Bru. I am not gamesome; I do lack some part
Of that quick spirit that is in Anthony;
Let me not binder, Cassius, your desires;
I'll leave you.

Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late:
I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And shew of love as I was wont to have;
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that loves you.

Bru. Cassius,

Be not deceived: If I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am

Of late with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself;

Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviour?
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,
Among which number, Cassius, be you one;
Nor construe any farther my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets. the shew of love to other men.

Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion;

By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus can you see your face?

Bru. No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself,
But by reflection from some other thing,
Cas. 'Tis just.

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That have no such mirror as will turn
you
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome,
(Except immortal Cæsar) speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me,
Cassius,

you

That would have me seek into myself
For that which is not in me?

Cas.

Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to

hear;

And since you know you cannot see yourself
So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself

That of yourself which yet you know not of
And be not jealous of me gentle Brutus:
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary oaths my love
To every new protestor; if you know,
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after scandal them; or if you
know,
That I profess myself in banqueting

To all the rout; then hold me dangerous.
Bru. What means this shouting; I do fear the
people

Chuse Cæsar for their king.

Cas. Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it so.
Bru. I would not Cassius; yet I love him well,
But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
What is it that you would impart to me?
If it be aught toward the general good,
Set honour in one eye, and death i' th' other
And I will look on death indifferently:
For let the gods so speed me, as I love
The name of honour more than I fear death.
Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favour.
Well, honour is the subject of my story.-
I cannot tell what you and other men
Think of this life; but for my single self,
I had as lief not be, as live to be
In awe of such a thing as I myself.

I was born free as Cæsar; so were you;
We both have fed as well; and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he.
For once upon a raw and gusty day

The troubled Tyber chafing with his shores,
Cæsar says to me,
Dar'st thou, Cassius, new
Leap in with me into this angry flood

K