Pol. Fare you well, my Lord. Ham. Thefe tedious old fools! Pol. You go to feek Lord Hamlet; there he is. [Exit. Enter ROSINCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN. Rof. God fave you, Sir. Guil. Mine honoured Lord! Ham. My excellent good friends! How doft thou, Oh, Rofincrantz, good lads! how do you both? Rof. Neither, my Lord. Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favours? Guil. 'Faith, in her privates we. Ham. In the fecret parts of Fortune? oh, most true; he is a frumpet. What news? Rof. None, my Lord, but that the world's grown honest. Ham. Then is doomsday near; but your news is not true. Let me queftion more in particular; what have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of Fortune, that fhe fends you to prison hither? Guil. Prison, my Lord? Ham. Denmark's a prison. Ham. A goodly one, in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons, Denmark being one o' th' worst. Rof. We think not fo, my Lord. VOL. XII. F Ham. Why, then it is none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it fo: to me it is a prifon. Rof. Why, then your ambition makes it one : 'tis too narrow for your mind. Ham. Oh God, I could be bounded in a nutfhell, 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 fubftance of the ambitious is merely the fhadow of a dream. Ham. A dream itself is but a fhadow. Ref. Truly, and I hold ambition of fo airy and light a quality, that it is but a fhadow's fhadow. Ham. Then are our beggars, bodies; and our monarchs and out-ftretched heroes, the beggars' fhadows. Shall we to th' Court? for, by my fay, I cannot reafon. Both. We'll wait upon you. Ham. No fuch matter. I will not fort you with the rest of my fervants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended: but in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elfinoor? Rof. To vifit you, my Lord; no other occafion. Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you; and fure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear of a half-penny. Were you not fent for? is it your own inclining? is it a free vifitation? come, deal justly with me; come, come; nay, speak. Guil. What should we fay, my Lord? Ham. Any thing, but to the purpose. You were fent for: and there is a kind of confeffion in your looks, which your modefties have not craft enough to colour. I know, the good King and Queen have fent for you. Rof. To what end, my Lord? Ham. That you must teach me; but let me conjure you by the rights of our fellowship, by the confonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear, a better propofer could charge you withal; be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for or no? Ref. What fay you? [To Guilden. Ham. Nay, then I have an eye of you: if you love me, hold not off. Guil. My Lord, we were fent for. Ham. I will tell you why; fo fhall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your fecrecy to the King and Queen moult no feather. I have of late, but wherefore I know not, loft all my mirth, foregone all custom of exercife; and, indeed, it goes fo heavily with my difpofition, that this goodly frame, the earth, feems to me a steril promontory; this most excellent canopy the air, look you, this brave o'er-hanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me, than a foul and peftilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reafon! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehenfion how like a God! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! and yet to me, what is this quinteffence of duft? man delights not me, nor woman neither; though by your fmiling you feem to fay fo. Rof. My Lord, there was no fuch stuff in my thoughts. Ham. Why did you laugh, when I faid, man de-lights not me? Ref. To think, my Lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten entertainment the players fhalk receive from you; we accofted them on the way,, and hither are they coming to offer you service. Ham. He that plays the King fhall be welcome; his Majefty fhall have tribute of me; the adventurous knight fhall ufe his foyle and target; the lover thall not figh gratis; the humorous man thall end his part in peace; and the lady fhall fay her mind freely, or the blank verfe fhall halt for't. What players are they? Rof. Even thofe you were wont, to take delight · in, the tragedians of the city. Ham. How chances it they travel? their refidence both in reputation and profit was better, both ways. Rof. I think their inhibition comes by the means: of the late innovation. Ham. Do they hold the fame eftimation they did when I was in the city? are they fo followed? Rof. No, indeed, they are not. Ham. How comes it? do they grow rusty? Rof. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace: but there is, Sir, an aiery of children, little eyafes, (30) that cry out on the top of queftion; and are most tyrannically clapt for't; these are now (30) But there is, Sir, an aicry of children, little yafes, that cry out on the top of question;] The Poet here fteps out of his fubject to give a lafh at home, and fneer at the prevailing fashion of following plays performed by the children of the chapel, and abandoning the established theatres. But why are they called little yafes? I with fome of the editors would have expounded this fine new word to us; or, at leaft, told us where we might meet with it. Till then, I fhall make bold to fufpect it; and, without overftraining fa gacity, attempt to retrieve the true word. As he firft calls them an atery of children, (now, an aiery or eyery is a hawk's or eagle's neft) there is not the leaft queftion but we ought こ the fashion, and fo berattle the common stages, (so they call them) that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goofe-quills, and dare scarce come thither. Ham. What, are they children? who maintains 'em? how are they escorted? will they puriue the quality no longer than they can fing? will they not fay afterwards, if they fhould grow themiclves. to common players, (as it is most like, if their means are no better) their writers do them wrong to make them exclaim against their own fucceffion? Ref. 'Faith, there has been much to do on both fides; and the nation holds it no fin to tarre them on to controverfy. There was, for a while, no money bid for argument, unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question. Ham. Is't poffible? Guil. Oh, there has been much throwing about of brains. Ham. Do the boys carry it away? Rof: Ay, that they do, my Lord, Hercules and his load too. Ham. It is not ftrange; for mine uncle is King, of Denmark; and thofe, that would make mowes at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an hundred ducats a-piece, for his picture in little. There is fomething in this more than natu-ral, if philosophy could find it out, [Flourish for the Players. Guil. There are the players.. Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elfinoor; yes hawk, un tats, a cipiter uiSkinner:) So Mrs Ford fays to restore-little eyafes; i. e. young, nefilings, creatures just out of the egg. (Anyaas or darius, qui recens ex ovo emerfit. to Faiftaff's dwarf page:. How now, my eyɑs-musket? what news with you? Merry Wives of Windfert |