Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, Put your dread pleasures more into command Than to entreaty. Guil. But we both obey; And here give up ourselves, in the full bent, [stern. Pol. The ambassadors from Norway, my good Are joyfully return'd. [lord, King. Thou still hast been the father of good news. Pol. Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege, I hold my duty, as I hold my soul, Both to my God, and to my gracious king: And I do think (or else this brain of mine Hunts not the trail of policy so sure As it hath us'd to do), that I have found The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy. King. O, speak of that; that do I long to hear. Pol. Give first admittance to the ambassadors; My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them [exit Polonius. He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found The head and source of all your son's distemper. in. Queen. I doubt, it is no other but the main; His father's death, and our o'er-hasty marriage. Re-enter Polonius, with Voltimand and Cornelius. Kiny. Well, we shall sift him.-Welcome, my good friends! Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway? Volt. Most fair return of greetings, and desires. Upon our first, he sent out to suppress His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack; But, better look'd into, he truly found It was against your highness: whereat griev'd, That so his sickness, age, and impotence, Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys; Receives rebuke from Norway, and, in fine, Makes vow before his uncle, never more To give th' assay of arms against your majesty Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy, Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee; And his commission, to employ those soldiers, So levied as before, against the Polack: With an entreaty, herein further shown, Lgives a paper. That it might please you to give quiet pass King. It likes us well: And, at our more consider'd time, we'll read, Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together: Most welcome home! [exeunt Volt. and Cor Pol. This business is well ended. My liege, and madam, to expostulate Queen. More matter, with less art. Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all. I have a daughter; have, while she is miuc; O, dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; 1 have not art to reckon my groans; but that I love thee best, O, most best, believe it. Adieu. Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him, Hamlet. This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me: And more above, hath his solicitings, As they fell out by time, by means, and place, All given to mine ear. King. But how hath she Receiv'd his love? Pol. What do you think of me? King. As of a man faithful and honourable. Or given my heart a working, mute and dumb; her And he repulsed, (a short tale to make,) King. Do you think, 'tis this? Queen. It may be, very likely.. Pol. Hath there been such a time (I'd fain That I have positively said, 'tis so, King. Not that I know. Pol. Take this from this, if this be otherwise: If circumstances lead me, I will find King. How may we try it further? [together Pol. You know, sometimes he walks four hours Here in the lobby. Queen. So he does, indeed. comes, reading. Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away; I'll board him presently.-O, give me leave. [exeunt King, Queen, and Attendants. How does my good lord Hamlet? Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man. Ham. Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand. Pol. That's very true, my lord. Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god, kissing carrion, have you a daughter? Pol. I have, my lord. Ham. Let her not walk i'the sun: conception is a blessing; but as your daughter may conceive, -friend, look to't. Pol. How say you by that? [aside] Still harping on my daughter: yet he knew me not at first; he said, I was a fishmonger. He is far gone, far gone: and, truly, in my youth I suffered much extremity for love; very near this. I'll speak to him again. What do you read, my lord? Ham. Words, words, words! Pol. What is the matter, my lord? Pol. I mean, the matter that you read, my lord. Ham. Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here, that old men have grey beards; that their fâces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber, and plumtree gum; and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams: all of which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down; for yourself, sir, shall be as old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward. Pol. Though this be madness, yet there's method in it. [aside] Will you walk out of the air, my lord? Ham. Into my grave? Pol. Indeed, that is out o'the air. How preg. nant sometimes his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter. My honourable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you. Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal; except my life, except my life, except my life. Pol. Fare you well, my lord. Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Ros. My most dear lord! Ham. My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both? Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth.' Guil. Happy, in that we are not over happy; On fortune's cap we are not the very button. Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe? Ros. Neither, my lord. Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favours? Guil. 'Faith, her privates we. Ham. In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she is a strumpet. What news? Ros. None, my lord; but that the world s grown honest. Ham. Then is dooms-day near. But your news is not true. Let me question more in particular. What have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune, that she sends you to prison hither? Guil. Prison, my lord! Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons; Denmark being one of the worst. Ros. We think not so, my lord. Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: To me it is a prison. Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one: 'tis too narrow for your mind. Ham. O God! I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space; were it not that I have bad dreams. Guil. Which dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow. Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow. Ham. Then are our beggars, bodies, and our monarchs, and outstretch'd heroes, the beggars' shadows. Shall we to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason. Ros. & Guil. We'll wait upon you. turous knight shall use his foil and target the lover shall not sigh gratis: the humorous man shall end his part in peace: the clown shall make those laugh, whose lungs are tickled o'the sere; and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt for't.-What players are they? Ros. Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the tragedians of the city. Ham. How chances it, they travel? their resi Ham. No such matter; I will not sort you with the rest of my servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended.dence, both in reputation and profit, was better But, in the beaten way of friendship, what make both ways, you at Elsinore? Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion. Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you: and sure, dear friends, iny thanks are too dear, a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, come; deal justly with me; come, come; nay, speak. Guil. What should we say, my lord? Ham. Any thing-but to the purpose. You were sent for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks, which your modesties have not craft enough to colour: I know, the good king and queen have sent for you. Ros. To what end, my lord? Ham. That you must teach me. But let me conjure you, by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for, er no? Ros. What say you? [to Guildenstern. Hum. Nay, then I have an eye of you; [aside] -if you love me, hold not off. Guil. My lord, we were sent for. Ham. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the King and queen moult no feather. I have of late (but, wherefore, I know not,) lost all my mirth, foregone all custom of exercises: and, in deed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form, and moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me, nor woman neither; though, by your smiling, you seem to say so. [thoughts. Ros. My lord, there is no such stuff in my Ham. Why did you laugh then, when I said, 'man delights not me?' Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you; we coted them on the way; and hither are they coming, to offer you service. Ham. He that plays the king shall be welcome; his majesty shall have tribute of me: the adven Ros. I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation. Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? Are they so followed? Ros. No, indeed, they are not. Ham. How comes it? Do they grow rusty? Ros. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace; but there is, sir, an aiery of children, little eyases that cry out on the top of question, and are most tyrannically clapped for't: these are now the fasuion; and so beruttle the common stages (so they call them) that many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of goose quills, and dare scarce come thither. Ham. What, are they children? who maintains them? how are they escoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing? will they not say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common players (as it is most like, if their meaus are no better,) their writers do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their own succession? Ros. 'Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and the nation hold it no sin, to tarre them on to controversy; there was, for awhile, no money bid for argument, unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question. Ham. Is it possible? い Guil. O, there has been much throwing about of brains. Ham. Do the boys carry it away? Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load too. Ham. It is not very strange: for my uncle is king of Denmark; and those, that would make mouths at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an hundred, ducats a-piece, for his picture in little. Sblood, there is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out." 9 $ 34 [flourish of trumpets within. Guil. There are the players. Hum. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, Come; then the appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb; lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you, must show fairly outward, should more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome; but my unclefather, and aunt-mother, are deceived. Guil. In what, my dear lord? Ham. I am but mad north-north west: when the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a hand-saw. Enter Polonius. Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen! -at each ear a hearer: that great baby, you see | speaks of Priam's slaughter. If it live in your there, is not yet out of his swaddling clouts. Ros. Happily, he's the second time come to them; for, they say, an old man is twice a child. Ham. I will prophecy, he comes to tell me of the players; mark it. You say right, sir: o'Monday morning; 'twas then, indeed. Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you. Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord. Pol. Upon my honour, memory, begin at this line; let me see, let me see ;- The rugged Pyrrhus,-he, whose sable arms, Ham. Then came each actor on his ass,- Pol. What a treasure had he, my lord? Ham. Nay, that follows not. Pol. What follows then, my lord? Ham. Why, As by lot, God wot,' and then, you know, It came to pass, as most like it was.' -The first row of the pious chanson will shew you more; for look, my abridgment comes, Enter four or five Players. You are welcome, masters; welcome, all:-I am 1 Play. What speech, my lord? Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once,— but it was never acted; or, if it was, not above once for the play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas caviare to the general: but it was (as I received it, and others, whose judgments, in such matters, cried in the top of mine) an excellent play; well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said, there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savoury; nor no matter in the phrase, that might indite the author of affection: but called it, an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech in it I chiefly loved: 'twas Eneas' tale to Dido; and thereabout of it especially, where he 1 Play. Anon, he finds him Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword, Repugnant to command. Unequal match'd, But, as we often see, against some storm, Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods, Pol. This is too long. Ham. It shall to the barber's, with your beardPr'ythee, say on: He's for a jig, or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps:-say on. come to Hecuba. 1 Play. But who, ah woe! had seen the mobled Ham. The mobled queen? [queen. With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head, In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs, The instant burst of clamour that she made (Unless things mortal move them not at all,) Would have made milch the burning eye of And passion in the gods. [heaven, Pol. Look, whether he has not turned his colour, and has tears in's eyes.-Pr'ythee, no more. Ham. 'Tis well; I'll have thee speak out the rest of this soon,- -Good, my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for they are the abstract, and brief chronicles, of the time: After your death you were better have a bad epitaph, than their ill report while you live. Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their desert. Ham. Odd's bodikin, man, much better: use every man after his desert, and who shall 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honour and lignity. The less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. Take them in. Pol. Come, sirs. [exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Ham. Ay, so, God be wi' you. Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I! Is it not monstrous, that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit, That, from her working, all his visage wann'd; Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspéct, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing! For Hecuba! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? What would he do. A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, .; Why, I should take it: for it cannot be, Lexit |