Ros. Guil. We will, my lord.

[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.] Ham. What ho! Horatio!

Enter HORATIO.

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Hor. Here, sweet lord, at your service. Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man As e'er my conversation cop'd withal.1 Hor. O, my dear lord,Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter; For what advancement may I hope from thee, That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits, To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd?

No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?

Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice, And could of men distinguish, her election Hath seal'd thee for herself: for thou hast been As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing; A man that fortune's buffets and rewards Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and bless'd are those

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Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled

That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that

man

That is not passion's slave, and I will wear

him

80

In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee. Something too much of this.-
There is a play to-night before the king;
One scene of it comes near the circumstance
Which I have told thee of my father's death:
I prithee, when thou seest that act a-foot,
Even with the very comment of thy soul
Observe my uncle: if his occulted2 guilt
Do not itself unkennel in one speech,
It is a damned ghost that we have seen;
And my imaginations are as foul

As Vulcan's stithy.3 Give him heedful note:
For I mine eyes will rivet to his face,

And after we will both our judgments join

In censure of his seeming.

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Ham. It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there. Be the players ready? Ros. Ay, my lord; they stay upon your patience.

Queen. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.

Ham. No, good mother; here's metal more attractive.

Pol. [To the King] O, ho! do you mark that?
Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
[Lying down at Ophelia's feet.

[Oph. No, my lord.
Ham. I mean, my head upon your lap?
Oph. Ay, my lord.

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Ham. O God, your only jig-maker. What should a man do but be merry? for, look you, how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within 's two hours.

Oph. Nay, 't is twice two months, my lord. Ham. So long? Nay, then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a suit of sables. O heavens! die two months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year: but, by 'r lady, he must build churches, then; [or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose epitaph is, "For, O, for, O, the hobby-horse is forgot."]

145

Hautboys play. The dumb-show enters. Enter a KING and a QUEEN very lovingly; the QUEEN embracing him, and he her. She kneels, and makes

show of protestation unto him. He takes her up, and declines his head upon her neck: lays him down upon a bank of flowers: she, seeing him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his crown, kisses it, and pours poison in the KING's ears, and exit. The QUEEN returns; finds the KING dead, and makes passionate action. The Poisoner, with some two or three Mutes, comes in again, seeming to lament with her. The dead body is carried away. The Poisoner wooes the QUEEN with gifts: she seems loth and unwilling awhile, but in the end accepts his love.

Enter a KING and a QUEEN.

P. King. Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart2 gone round

Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground,
And thirty dozen moons with borrow'd sheen
About the world have times twelve thirties been,
Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands
Unite commutual in most sacred bands.

170

210

To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt:]
What to ourselves in passion we propose,
The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
[The violence of either grief or joy
Their own enactures with themselves destroy:
Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.
This world is not for aye, nor 't is not strange
That even our loves should with our fortunes change;
For 't is a question left us yet to prove,
Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
The great man down, you mark his favourite flies;
The poor advanc'd makes friends of enemies.
And hitherto doth love on fortune tend:
For who not needs shall never lack a friend;

And who in want a hollow friend doth try,

Ham. O, but she 'll keep her word. King. Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in't?

Ham. No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i' the world.

King. What do you call the play?

Ham. The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is the duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see anon; 't is a knavish piece of work: but what o' that? your majesty, and we that have free souls, it touches us not: let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung.

Enter LUCIANUS.

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For thou dost know, O Damon dear,
This realm dismantled was
Of Jove himself; and now reigns here
A very, very-pajock.

Hor. You might have rhymed.
Ham. O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's
word for a thousand pound. Didst perceive?
Hor. Very well, my lord.

Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning? 300 Hor. I did very well note him.

Ham. Ah, ha! Come, some music! come, the recorders!3

For if the king like not the comedy, Why, then, belike, he likes it not, perdy. Come, some music!

Re-enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.

Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.

1 Hecate, pronounced Hecat.

2 Cry, company (from a cry of hounds).

3 Recorders, musical instruments.

Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and start not so wildly from my affair.

Ham. I am tame, sir: pronounce.

Guil. The queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you.

Ham. You are welcome.

Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do your mother's commandment: if not, your pardon, and my return shall be the end of my busi

ness.

Ham. Sir, I cannot. Guil. What, my lord?

6

330

O, the recorders! let me see one. To withdraw with you:-why do you go about to recover the wind of me,2 as if you would drive me into a toil?

Guil. O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly.

Ham. I do not well understand that. Will

you play upon this pipe?

Guil. My lord, I cannot.

Ham. I pray you.

Guil. Believe me, I cannot.
Ham. I do beseech you.

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Guil. I know no touch of it, my lord. Ham. It is as easy as lying: govern these ventages3 with your fingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops.

Guil. But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony; I have not the skill.

378

Ham. Why look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass: and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'S blood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.

1 "While the grass grows the steed starves.

To recover the wind of me, i.e., in hunting, to get to windward of the game, that it may be driven into the toil without scenting it.

These ventages, the stops.

* Fret, a quibble; the frets are the stops of an instrument.