Pol. What do you think of me? King. As of a man, faithful and honourable. think? When I had feen this hot love on the wing, Or giv'n my heart a working, mute and dumb, Thence to a watching, thence into a weakness, And all we wail for. King. Do you think this? Queen. It may be very likely. Pol. Hath there been fuch a time, I'd fain know that, That I have pofitively faid, 'tis fo, When it prov'd otherwise ? King. Not that I know. Pol. Take this from this, if this be otherwise. [Pointing to his Head and Shoulder. If circumftances lead me, I will find Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed Within the center. King. How may we try it further? Pol. You know, fometimes he walks four hours toge ther, Here in the lobby. Queen, Be Queen. So he does, indeed. Pol. At fuch a time I'll loose my daughter to him; you and I behind an Arras then, Mark the encounter: If he love her not, And be not from his reason fal'n thereon, But keep a farm and carters. King. We will try it. Enter Hamlet reading. Queen. But, look, where, fadly the poor wretch comes reading. I'll board him presently. Pol. Away, I do befeech Oh, give me leave. Hamlet? Ham. Well, God o' mercy. Pol Do you know me, my lord? Ham. Excellent well; you are a fishmonger. Pol. Not I, my lord. Ham. Then I would you were so honeft a man. Pol. Honeft, my lord? Ham. Ay, Sir; to be honeft, as this world goes, is to be one man pick'd out of ten thousand. Pol. That's very true, my lord. Ham. For if the fun breed maggots in a dead dcg, Being a good kiffing carrion Have you a daughter? Pol. I have, my lord. Ham. Let her not walk i'th' Sun; conception is a bleffing, but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to't. Pol. How fay you by that? ftill harping on my daughter! Yet he knew me not at firft; he faid, I was a fish monger. He is far gone; and, truly, in my youth, I suffer'd much extremity for love; Very near this. I'll fpeak to him again. What do you read, my lord? [Afide. Ham. Ham. Words, words, words. Pol. What is the matter, my lord? Ham. Between whom? Pol. I mean the matter that you read, my lord. Ham. Slanders, Sir: for the fatyrical flave fays here, that old men have grey beards; that their faces 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 which, Sir, tho' I moft powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus fet down; for your felf, Sir, fhall be as old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward. Pol. Though this be madness, yet there's method in't : Will you walk out of the air, my lord? Ham. Into my Grave. Pol. Indeed, that is out o' th' air: My honourable lord, I will most humbly Ham. You cannot, Sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal, except my life. Pol. Fare you well, my lord. Ham Thefe tedious old fools! Pol. You go to feek lord Hamlet; there he is. [Exit. Enter Rofincrantz and Guildenstern. Rof. God fave you, Sir. Guild. Mine honour'd lord! Rof. My molt dear lord! Ham. My excellent good friends! How doft thou, Oh, Rofincrantz, good lads! how do ye both? Guil. Happy, in that we are not over-happy; on fortune's cap, we are not the very button. Ham. Nor the foals of her fhoe? Rof. Neither, my lord. Ham. Then you live about her waste, or in the middle of her favours? Guil. Faith, in her privates we. Ham. In the fecret parts of fortune? oh, moft true; he is a ftrumpet. What news? Rof. None, my lord, but that the world's grown honeft. Ham. Then is dooms-day near; but your news is not true. Let me question more in particular: what have you, my good friends, deferved at the hands of fortune, that the fends you to prison hither? Guil. Prifon, my lord! Ham. Denmark's a prison. Rof. Then is the world one. 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. Ham. Why, then, 'tis none to you; for there is no. thing 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 nut-fhell, and count my felf 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 meerly the shadow of a dream. Ham. A dream it felf 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-ftretch'd heroes, the beggars' fhadows Shall we to th' Court? for, by my fay, I cannot reafon. Vo L. VIII. G Beth. Both. We'll wait upon you. Ham. No fuch matter. I will not fort you with the reft of my fervants: for, to speak to you like an honeft man, I am moft dreadfully attended: but in the beaten way of Friendship, what make you at Elfincor? Rof. To vifit you, my lord; no other occasion. 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 juftly with me; come, come; nay, speak. Guil. What fhould we fay, my lord? Ham. Any thing, but to the purpofe. 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 muft 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-preferved love, and by what more dear, a better propofer could charge you withal; be even and direct with me, whether you were fent for or no? Rof. 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 cuftom of exercife; and, indeed, it goes fo heavily with my dif pofition, that this goodly frame, the earth, feems to me a fteril promontory; this most excellent air, look you, this brave o'er-hanging firmament, this majeftical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me, than a foul and peftilent congre gation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man? how noble in reafon ! how infinite in faculties! in form canopy the and |