Page 229 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

The triumph of his pledge.

HORATIO
Is it a custom?

HAMLET
Ay marry is’t,
But to my mind, though I am native here
And to the manner born, it is a custom [15]

More honour’d in the breach than the observance.
This heavy-headed revel east and west
Makes us traduc’d and tax’d of other nations −
They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase

Soil our addition; and indeed it takes [20]
From our achievements, though perform’d at height,
The pith and marrow of our attribute.
So, oft it chances in particular men

That for some vicious mole of nature in them,
As in their birth, wherein they are not guilty [25]
(Since nature cannot choose his origin),
By their o’ergrowth of some complexion,

Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason,
Or by some habit, that too much o’erleavens
The form of plausive manners − that these men, [30]
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,

Being Nature’s livery or Fortune’s star,
His virtues else, be they as pure as grace,
As infinite as man may undergo,
Shall in the general censure take corruption [35]

From that particular fault. The dram of evil
Doth all the noble substance often dout
To his own scandal.

Enter Ghost.

HORATIO
Look, my lord, it comes.