to die,

Or to take arms against a fea of troubles,
And by oppofing end them?
to fleep-
No more; and by a fleep, to fay, we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural fhocks
That flesh is heir to; 'tis a confummation
Devoutly to be wifh'd. To die to sleep-

To fleep? perchance, to dream; ay, there's the rub.
For in that fleep of Death what dreams may come,
When we have fhuffled off this mortal coil,

Muft give us pause.

There's the refpect,
That makes Calamity of fo long life.

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppreffor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pang of defpis'd love, the law's delay,
The infolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes;
When he himself might his Quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardles bear,
To groan and fweat under a weary life?
But that the dread of fomething after death,
(That undiscover'd country, from whose bourne
No traveller returns) puzzles the will;
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus confcience does make cowards of us all :
And thus the native hue of refolution

Is ficklied o'er with the pale caft of thought;
And enterprizes of great pith, and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action
Soft you, now!
[Seeing Oph.

The fair Ophelia? Nymph, in thy orifons

Be all my fins remembred.

Oph. Good my lord,

How does your Honour for this many a day?
Ham. I humbly thank you, well;

Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours,
That I have longed long to re-deliver.

I

pray you, now receive them.

Ham. No, I never gave you aught.

Oph. My honour'd lord, you know right well, you
did;

And with them words of fo fweet breath compos'd,
As made the things more rich: that perfume loft,
Take these again; for to the noble mind

Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.
There, my lord.

Ham. Ha, ha! are you honeft ?
Oph. My lord,

Ham. Are you fair?

Oph. What means your lordship?

Ham. That if you be honest and fair, you fhould admit no difcourfe to your beauty.

Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?,

Ham. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will fooner transform honefty from what it is, to a bawd; than the force of honesty can tranflate beauty into its likeness. This was fometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. — -I did love you once.

Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe fo.

Ham. You fhould not have believed me. For virtue cannot fo inoculate our old stock, but we shall relish of it. I lov'd you not.

Oph. I was the more deceiv'd.

Ham. Get thee to a nunnery. Why wouldst thou be a breeder of finners? I am my felf indifferent honeft; but yet I could accufe me of fuch Things, that it were better, my mother had not borne me. I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them fhape, or time to act them in. What fhould fuch fellows, as I, do crawling between heav'n and earth? we are arrant knaves, believe none of us Go thy Where's your father?

ways to a nunnery Oph. At home, my lord. Ham. Let the doors be fhut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house. Farewel. Oph. Oh help him, you fweet heav'ns!

Ham. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for

thy

thy dowry. Be thou as chafte as ice, as pure as fnow, thou fhalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery,

farewel

Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a

fool; for wife men know well enough, what monsters you make of them To a nunnery, go- and quickly

too: farewel.

Oph. Heav'nly powers, reftore him!

Ham. I have heard of your painting too, well enough: God has given you one face, and you make your felves another. You jig, you amble, and you lifp, and nickname God's creatures, and make your wantonnefs your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't, it hath made me mad. I fay, we will have no more marriages. Those that are married already, all but one, fhall live; the reft fhall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go.

[Exit Hamlet. Oph. Oh, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, foldier's, fcholar's, eye, tongue, sword! Th' expectancy and rofe of the fair State,

The glafs of fashion, and the mould of form,

Th' obferv'd of all obfervers, quite, quite down!
I am of ladies most deject and wretched,
That fuck'd the hony of his mufick vows :
Now fee that noble and moft fovereign reafon,
Like fweet bells jangled out of tune, and harsh;
That unmatch'd form, and feature of blown youth,
Blafted with extafie. Oh, woe is me!

T'have feen what I have feen; fee what I fee.

Enter King and Polonius.

King. Love! his affections do not that way tend,
Nor what he fpake, tho' it lack'd form a little,
Was not like madnefs. Something's in his foul,
O'er which his melancholy fits on brood;
And, I do doubt, the hatch and the disclose
Will be fome danger, which, how to prevent,
I have in quick determination

Thus fet it down. He fhall with speed to England,
For the demand of our neglected Tribute :
Haply, the Seas and Countries different,

With variable objects, fhall expel

This fomething-fettled matter in his heart;
Whereon his brains still beating, puts him thus
From fashion of himself. What think you on't?
Pol. It fhall do well. But yet do I believe,
The origin and commencement of this grief
Sprung from neglected love. How now, Ophelia?—
You need not tell us what lord Hamlet faid,

We heard it all.

My lord, do as you please;

[Exit Ophelia..

But if you hold it fit, after the Play
Let his Queen-mother all alone intreat him
To fhew his griefs; let her be round with him:
And I'll be plac'd, fo please you, in the ear
Of all their conf'rence. If the find him not,
To England fend him; or confine him, where
Your wifdom beft fhall think.

King. It fhall be fo :

Madness in Great ones muft not unwatch'd go.

[Exeunt Enter Hamlet, and two or three of the Players.

Ham. Speak the fpeech, I pray you; as I pronounc'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue. But if you mouth it, as many of our Players do, I had as lieve, the towncrier had spoke my lines. And do not faw the air too much with your hand thus, but ufe all gently; for in the very torrent, tempeft, and, as I may fay, whirl-wind of your paffion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. Oh, it offends me to the foul, to hear a robuftious periwig-pated fellow tear a paffion to tatters, to very rags, to fplit the ears of the groundlings: who (for the most part) are capable of nothing, but inexplicable dumb fhews, and noife: I could have fuch a fellow whipt for o'er-doing Termagant; it out-herods Herod. Pray you, avoid it.

Play. I warrant your Honour.

Ham. Be not too tame neither; but let your own dîfcretion be your tutor. Sute the action to the word, the word to the action, with this fpecial obfervance, that

you

you o'er-step not the modefty of Nature; for any thing fo overdone is from the purpose of playing; whofe end, both at the first and now; was and is, to hold as 'twere the mirror up to nature; to fhew virtue her own feature, fcorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time, his form and preffure. Now this over-done, or come tardy of, tho' it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve: the cenfure of which one muft in your allowance o'er-weigh a whole theatre of others. Oh, there be Players that I have feen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, (not to speak it prophanely) that neither having the accent of christian, nor the gate of chriftian, pagan, nor man, have fo ftrutted and bellow'd, that I have thought fome of nature's journey-men had made men, and not made them well; they imitated humanity so abominably.

Play. I hope, we have reform'd that indifferently with us.

Ham. Oh, reform it altogether. And let thofe, that play your Clowns, fpeak no more than is fet down for them: For there be of them that will themselves laugh, to fet on fome quantity of barren fpectators to laugh too; though, in the mean time, fome neceffary queftion of the Play be then to be confidered: That's villanous; and fhews a most pitiful ambition in the fool that ufes it. Go make you ready. [Exeunt Players.

Enter Polonius, Rofincrantz, and Guildenstern.

How now, my lord; will the King hear this piece of work?

Pol. And the Queen too, and that presently.

Ham. Bid the Players make hafte.

Will you two help to haften them?

Both. We will, my lord.

Ham. What, ho, Horatio!

[Exit Polonius.

[Exeunt.

Enter Horatio to Hamlet.

Har. Here, fweet lord, at your service.

Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a Man,

As e'er my converfation coap'd withal.

Har