HAMLET                     – that these men,

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

From that particular fault: the dram of eale

Doth all the noble substance of a doubt

To his own scandal –

Enter GHOST.

HORATIO                    Look, my lord, it comes.        (1.4.30-38)

Obscure, editors say. Possibly corrupt, or a draft passage that somehow made it into the final version. CUT, say directors. But Hamlet, he just goes on talking, qualifying and amplifying his account of Danish drunkenness and how the single flaw or failing can become a whole personality, define an entire character. These men, carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect—marked by just one fault (being Nature’s livery or Fortune’s star) (whether they’re born that way, or just the victim of bad luck; nature or nurture, sort of)—that’s it, that determines everything. And his virtues else, be they as pure as grace—even if that man is a paragon in every other respect, as infinite as man may undergo, he shall still in the general censure take corruption from that particular fault. He’ll just be written off, by everyone, because of that single vice, no matter how amazing he is. His reputation will be destroyed irrevocably. Now a metaphor, utterly impenetrable: the dram of eale doth all the noble substance of a doubt to his own scandal; the gist is, again, that the tiny quantity of—something—corrupts the whole. No main verb, no completed sentence or thought, Hamlet becoming more and more convoluted and obscure; he’s trying to explain something and he’s only succeeding in making it more difficult, needlessly so. (The starting point, after all, was straightforward: that the Danish have a reputation for being drunkards.)

But it allows the Ghost to appear while everyone is concentrating on Hamlet, including the audience (although Horatio might have noticed a split second earlier, or Marcellus even earlier, trying to attract their attention, not wanting to interrupt). Look, my lord, it comes. An odd sort of relief—perhaps Hamlet will shut up now?—but also dread; it’s the Ghost again, and Hamlet himself can be completely shocked.