The ghost tells Hamlet that he is, in fact, the ghost of his dead father. And there’s more: the ghost claims that Claudius killed him, taking his throne and his wife in the process. He wants Hamlet to kill Claudius in revenge. Shocked, Hamlet agrees and vows to avenge his father’s death. When Horatio and Marcellus reenter, having followed Hamlet to the scene of his chat with the ghost, they promise to keep quiet about what the ghost told Hamlet. Hamlet also tells them that he might start acting a little crazy because he’ll be using insanity as a cover while he investigates what’s really going on.
Modern English:Where are you taking me? Speak. I'll go no further.
My time is almost up. Soon, I’ll have to return to those terrible fires.
Don’t pity me, but listen seriously to what I have to tell you.
Speak. I’m eager to hear what you have to say.
You’ll be just as eager to take revenge when you’ve heard my story.
I am the ghost of your father, condemned for a certain period of time to roam the nights, while during the day I burn in flames until the sins that I committed during my lifetime have been purged from my soul. I am forbidden to tell you the secrets of the afterlife; otherwise I would tell you a story, the tiniest bit of which would freeze your young blood, make your eyes pop out of their sockets like stars out of their orbits, and cause your stylish hair to stand straight up like the quills on a porcupine. But the living are not allowed to hear a description of the afterlife. Listen to me! If you ever loved your dear father.
You must avenge this horrible and unnatural murder!
A horrible murder (as all murders are), but this one was horrible, strange, and unnatural.
Hurry up and tell me so that my act of revenge can be as quick as my thoughts.
You’ll know what you’ll need to do. You would have to be as stupid as the bloated weeds that grow on the banks of the river of oblivion if my story did not stir you to act. Now listen, Hamlet. The public version of the story is that I was bit by a snake while I was taking a nap in my orchard. All of Denmark has been lied to and taken advantage of, by this false account of my death. But you should know, my noble son, that the snake that took your father’s life now wears his crown.
Oh, I knew it! My uncle, a murderer!
Yes, that monster committed incest and adultery, using the magic of his evil wit and traitorous charm (he has such wicked skills in seducing women). That’s how he won over the sexual desires of my queen, who had always seemed so virtuous. Oh, Hamlet, what a terrible decline for Gertrude. To go from me, whose love was so dignified that it upheld every vow I made to her at our wedding, and then to take up with this miserable creature whose best features can’t even begin to compare to mine.
But Virtue can’t be tempted, even by lewdness disguised as an angel. So Lust, even though it has a heavenly lover, will satisfy itself in that divine bed and then move on to sleep with trash.
I think I sense the morning coming. I’ll be brief. While I was sleeping in my orchard (as I always do in the afternoon), your uncle sneaked up and poured into my ears an evil potion made from the hebona plant. This poison is so lethal that it instantly rushes into every part of the body and makes the blood thicken and curdle like milk to which vinegar has been added.
That’s exactly what it did to my blood. Instantly, scabs like the bark of a tree (or like the disgusting skin of someone with leprosy) appeared all over my smooth body. That’s how, while I was sleeping, my brother stole my life, my crown, and my queen. I died without having performed any religious sacraments to absolve myself of my sins. Instead, I was sent to my judgement with my earthly sins still weighing against me.
So horrible! Oh, horrible! Most horrible! If you’re human, you will not tolerate this. Don't let Denmark's royal bed be a place of corruption and incest. But, however you proceed in this, don’t hold anything against your mother, or take any actions against her. Leave her to be judged by God, and to suffer the stings of her own conscience. Goodbye, I must go! The fireflies show that morning is coming soon; their lights are growing pale. Goodbye. Remember me.
Oh, spirits of heaven. Oh, spirits of earth. Should I add hell? Damn. Stay strong, my heart. And you, my muscles, don’t grow weak now, but hold me up. Remember you? Yes, you poor ghost, I’ll remember as long as memory remains in this confused head of mine. Remember you? Yes, I’ll erase all trivial sweet memories, all quotes from books, all formulas, all childhood impressions and observations from the pages of my memory. Your command alone will be engraved in my mind, uncluttered with unimportant matters. Yes, by God, I’ll remember you.
Oh, you evil woman! Oh, Claudius, you villain, damned smiling villain! Where’s my notebook? [Hamlet writes.] I should write this down, “One can smile and smile, and yet still be a villain.” At least that’s true here in Denmark. So, uncle, there you are. Now to keep my word. “Goodbye, remember me”, you said. I swear I will.