Shakespeare: Hamlet Act 1

Shakespeare: Hamlet Act 1

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  • In the same figure like the king that’s dead.
  • Ghost 1st Appeared
  • What are you, that you walk out so late at night, looking like the dead king of Denmark when he dressed for battle? By God, I order you to speak.
  • Scene 2 
  • Two nights together had these gentlemen, Marcellus and Barnardo, on their watch, In the dead waste and middle of the night, Been thus encountered: a figure like your father,
  •  In few, Ophelia, Do not believe his vows, for they are brokers Not of that dye which their investments show. This is for all: I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth, Have you so slander any moment leisure, As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet. Look to ’t, I charge you. Come your ways.
  • I’ll stand guard with you tonight. Maybe it’ll come again.
  • Good-bye, son. I hope my blessing will help you absorb what I’ve said.
  • Scene 3
  • My lord, he hath importuned me with love In honorable fashion.
  • I’ll do as you say, father.
  • Think it no more-Perhaps he loves you now, but you must fear. His greatness weighed, his will is not his own, For he himself is subject to his birth. He may not, as unvalued persons do, Carve for himself, for on his choice depends The safety and health of this whole state. And therefore must his choice be circumscribed Unto the voice and yielding of that body Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,
  • Scene 5 Ghost asks for revenge
  • Take revenge for his horrible murder, that crime against nature. 
  • Haste me to know ’t, that I, with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love, May sweep to my revenge.   
  • Scene 5 Ghost reveals
  •  The serpent that did sting thy father’s life Now wears his crown. Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother’s hand Of life, of crown, of queen at once dispatched, Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, 
  • O my prophetic soul! My uncle?
  • Scene 5 ghost leaves
  • But howsoever thou pursuest 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 glowworm shows the matin to be near, And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire.
  • So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word.
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