Page 231 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

HORATIO

Do not, my lord.

HAMLET
Why, what should be the fear?
I do not set my life at a pin’s fee, [65]
And for my soul, what can it do to that,

Being a thing immortal as itself?
It waves me forth again. I’ll follow it.

HORATIO
What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord,
Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff [70]
That beetles o’er his base into the sea,

And there assume some other horrible form
Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason
And draw you into madness? Think of it.

The very place puts toys of desperation, [75]
Without more motive, into every brain
That looks so many fathoms to the sea
And hears it roar beneath.

HAMLET
It waves me still.

Go on, I’ll follow thee.

MARCELLUS

You shall not go, my lord.

HAMLET
Hold off your hands. [80]

HORATIO
Be rul’d; you shall not go.

HAMLET
My fate cries out