Horat. Is it a custome? Ham. I marry ist; And to my mind, though I am natiue heere, And to the manner borne: It is a Custome More honour'd in the breach, then the obseruance. Hor. Looke my Lord, it comes. Ham. Angels and Ministers of Grace defend vs: Be thou a Spirit of health, or Goblin damn'd, Bring with thee ayres from Heauen, or blasts from Hell, Be thy euents wicked or charitable, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape That I will speake to thee. Ile call thee Hamlet, King, Father, Royall Dane: Oh, oh, answer me, Let me not burst in Ignorance; but tell Why thy Canoniz'd bones Hearsed in death, Haue burst their cerments, why the Sepulcher Wherein we saw thee quietly enurn'd, Hath op'd his ponderous and Marble iawes, To cast thee vp againe? What may this meane? That thou dead Coarse againe in compleat steele, Reuisits thus the glimpses of the Moone, Making Night hidious? And we fooles of Nature, So horridly to shake our disposition, With thoughts beyond thee; reaches of our Soules, Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we doe? Ghost beckens Hamlet. Hor. It beckons you to goe away with it, As if it some impartment did desire To you alone.