Enter Duke, and Dutchefs, Players.

Duke. Full thirty times hath Phabus' Carr gone round

Neptune's falt wafh, and Tellus' orbed ground;
And thirty dozen moons with borrowed fheen
About the world have time twelve thirties been,
Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands,
Unite commutual, in moft facred bands.

Dutch, So many journeys may the Sun and Moon
Make us again count o'er, ere love be done.
But woe is me, you are fo fick of late,

1

So far from cheer and from your former state,
That I diftruft you; yet though I distrust,
Discomfort you, my Lord, it nothing must:
For women fear too much, ev'n as they love.
And women's fear and love hold quantity;
'Tis either none, or in extremity.

6

Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know; ? And as my love is fiz'd, my fear is fo.

Where love is great, the smallest doubts are fear; Where little fears grow great, great love grows there. Duke. 'Faith, I muft leave thee, Love, and shortly

too :

My operant powers their functions leave to do,

sheen] Splendour, luftre. 6-ev'n as they love.] Here feems to be a line loft, which hould have rhymed to love.

7 And as my love is fix'd, my fear is fo.] Mr. Pope fays, I read fiz'd; and indeed, I do fo: because, I obferve, the quarto of 1605 reads, ciz'd; that of 1611 cix'; the fo'is in 1632, fi; and that in 1623, fiz'd: and becaufe, befides, the whole tenour of the context demands this reading:

For the lady evidently is talking here of the quantity and propotion of her love and fear; not of their continuance, duration, or ftability. Cleopatra expreffes herfelf much in the fame manner, with regard to her grief for the lofs of Antony.

-our Size of Sorrow, Proportion'd to our Cause, must be as great

As that which makes it.

THEOBALD.

And

And thou fhalt live in this fair world behind,
Honour'd, belov'd; and, haply, one as kind
For husband fhalt thou-

Dutch. Oh, confound the reft!

Such love must needs be treafon in my breast:
In fecond hufband let me be accurft!

None wed the second, but who kill the first.
Ham. Wormwood, wormwood!

8

Dutch, The inftances, that fecond marriage move, Are base respects of thrift, but none of love. A fecond time I kill my husband dead, When fecond husband kiffes me in bed.

Duke. I do believe, you think what now you speak;
But what we do determine oft we break;
Purpose is but the flave to memory,
Of violent birth, but poor validity:

Which now, like fruits unripe, sticks on the tree
But fall unfhaken, when they mellow be.
Moft neceffary 'tis, that we forget

To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt:
What to ourselves in paffion we propose,
The paffion ending doth the purpose lofe
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 flender accident.
This world is not for aye; nor 'tis not strange,
That ev❜n our loves fhould with our fortune's change.
For 'tis a queftion left us yet to prove,

Whether love leads fortune, or else fortune love.

The inftances.] The motives. 2what to ourselves is debt:] The performance of a refolution in which only the r folver is interested, is a debt only to himfelf, which he may therefore remit at pleasure.

The violence of either griefor joy. Their own ena&tures with them

felves deftroy.] What grief or joy enact or determine in their violence, is revoked in their abatement. Enatures is the word in the quarto; all the modern editions have enalters.

The

The great man down, you mark, his fav'rite flies;
The poor advanc'd, makes friends of enemies.
And hitherto doth love on fortune tend,
For who, not needs, fhall never lack a friend;
And who in want a hollow friend doth try,
Directly seasons him his enemy.

But orderly to end where I begun,
Our wills and fates do fo contrary run,

That our devices ftill are overthrown

Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.
So think, thou wilt no fecond husband wed;
But die thy thoughts, when thy firft Lord is dead.
Dutch. Nor earth to give me food, nor heaven
light

Sport and repofe lock fron me, day and night!
To defperation turn my truft and hope!

2 An Anchor's cheer in prifon be my Scope!
Each oppofite, that blanks the face of joy,
Meet that I would have well, and it destroy'
Both here, and hence, purfue me lafting ftrife!
If, once a widow, ever I be wife.

Ham. If the fhould break it now

Duke. 'Tis deeply fworn; Sweet, leave me here a

while;

My fpirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile

The tedious day with fleep.

Dutch. Sleep rock thy brain,

[Sleeps.

And never come mifchance between us twain! [Exit. Ham. Madam, how like you this Play?

Queen. The lady protefts too much, methinks. Ham. Oh, but fhe'll keep her word.

King. Have you heard the argument, is there no offence in't?

2 An Anchor's cheer in prifn be my cope!] May my whole liberty and enjoyment be to live

on hermit's fare in a prison. Anchor is for anchorete.

Ham.

Ham. No, no, they do but jeft, poifon in jeft. No offence i' th' world.

King. What do you call the Play? Ham. The Moufe-Trap. Marry, how? tropically. This Play is the image of a murder done in Vienna; Gonzaga is the Duke's name, his wife's Baptifta; you fhall fee anon, 'tis a knavish piece of Work; but what o' that? your Majesty, and we that have free fouls, it touches us not. Let the gall'd jade winch, our withers are unrung.

Enter Lucianus.

This is one Lucianus, nephew to the Duke.
Oph. You are as good as a chorus, my Lord.
Ham. I could interpret between you and your love,
If I could fee the puppets dallying.

Oph. You are keen, my Lord, you are keen. Ham. It would coft you a groaning to take off my edge.

Oph. Still better and worse.

Ham. So you mistake your husbands.

Begin, murderer.Leave thy damnable faces, and begin.

Come. The croaking raven doth bellow for revenge. Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing,

Confederate feafon, elle no creature feeing,
Thou mixture rank, of mid-night weeds collected,
With Hecat's bán thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thy natural magick, and dire property,

On wholfome life ufurp immediately.

[Pours the poifon into his ears. Ham. He poifons him i'th' garden for's eftate. His

name's Gonzaga; the ftory is extant, and writ in choice Italian. You fhall fee anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzaga's wife.

Opb. The King rises.

Ham. What, frighted with falfe fire!
Queen. How fares my Lord?

Pol. Give o'er the Play.

King. Give me fome light. Away!

All. Lights, lights, lights!

[Exeunt.

Manent Hamlet and Horatio.

Ham. Why, let the ftrucken deer go weep,
The heart ungalled play?

For fome must watch, whilft fome must sleep;
So runs the world away.

Would not this, Sir, and a foreft of Feathers, if the reft of my fortunes turn Turk with me, with two provincial roses on my rayed shoes, get me a fellowfhip in a cry of Players, Sir?

Hor. Half a fhare.

Ham. A whole one, I.

"For thou doft know, oh Damon dear, "This realm difmantled was

"Of Jove himself, and now reigns here "A very, very,-Peacock.