| ACT IV.
4. Scene IV. A plain in Denmark.
 (continued)[Exit.]
 Ros.
Will't please you go, my lord?
 
 Ham.
I'll be with you straight. Go a little before.
 
 [Exeunt all but Hamlet.]
 
 How all occasions do inform against me
 And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
 If his chief good and market of his time
 Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
 Sure he that made us with such large discourse,
 Looking before and after, gave us not
 That capability and godlike reason
 To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be
 Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
 Of thinking too precisely on the event,--
 A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom
 And ever three parts coward,--I do not know
 Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;'
 Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means
 To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me:
 Witness this army, of such mass and charge,
 Led by a delicate and tender prince;
 Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd,
 Makes mouths at the invisible event;
 Exposing what is mortal and unsure
 To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
 Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great
 Is not to stir without great argument,
 But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
 When honour's at the stake. How stand I, then,
 That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
 Excitements of my reason and my blood,
 And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see
 The imminent death of twenty thousand men
 That, for a fantasy and trick of fame,
 Go to their graves like beds; fight for a plot
 Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
 Which is not tomb enough and continent
 To hide the slain?--O, from this time forth,
 My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!
 
 [Exit.]
 
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