1 Go to, I'll no more on't, it hath made me mad.
2 God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another.
3 My lord, he hath importun'd me with love In honourable fashion.
4 He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders Of his affection to me.
5 And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, With almost all the holy vows of heaven.
6 Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
7 He tells me, my sweet queen, that he hath found The head and source of all your son's distemper.
8 Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you, And sure I am, two men there are not living To whom he more adheres.
9 He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave By laboursome petition; and at last Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent.
10 What it should be, More than his father's death, that thus hath put him So much from th'understanding of himself, I cannot dream of.
11 Marry, well bethought: 'Tis told me he hath very oft of late Given private time to you; and you yourself Have of your audience been most free and bounteous.'
12 The spirit that I have seen May be the devil, and the devil hath power T'assume a pleasing shape, yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, As he is very potent with such spirits, Abuses me to damn me.
13 Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground, And thirty dozen moons with borrow'd sheen About the world have times twelve thirties been, Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands Unite commutual in most sacred bands.
14 Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death The memory be green, and that it us befitted To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow of woe; Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature That we with wisest sorrow think on him, Together with remembrance of ourselves.
15 Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long; And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad, The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm; So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.'
16 Now follows, that you know young Fortinbras, Holding a weak supposal of our worth, Or thinking by our late dear brother's death Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, Colleagued with this dream of his advantage, He hath not fail'd to pester us with message, Importing the surrender of those lands Lost by his father, with all bonds of law, To our most valiant brother.
17 Now, sir, young Fortinbras, Of unimproved mettle, hot and full, Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there, Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes, For food and diet, to some enterprise That hath a stomach in't; which is no other, As it doth well appear unto our state, But to recover of us by strong hand And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands So by his father lost.
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