The first row of the pious chanson will show you more: for look, where my abridgments come. Enter Four or Five Players. You are welcome, masters; welcome, all :--I am glad to see thee well-welcome, good friends.-O, my old friend! Thy face is valiant since I saw thee last; Com'st thou to beard me in Denmark?-What! my young lady and mistress! By-'r-lady, your ladyship is nearer heaven, than when I saw you last, by the altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the ring.Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en to 't like French falconers, fly at any thing we see: We'll have a speech straight: Come, give us a taste of your quality; come, a passionate speech. 1 Play. What speech, my lord? Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleased not the million; 't was caviarie to the general: but it was (as I received it, and others, whose judgments, in such matters, cried in the top of mine) an excellent play; well digested in the scenes; set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said, there were no sallets in the lines, to make the matter savoury; nor no matter in the phrase that might indite the author of affectation; but called it, an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One chief speech in it I chiefly loved: 't was Æneas' tale to Dido; and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priam's slaughter: If it live in your memory, begin at this line; let me see, let me see ; The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast, It is not so; it begins with Pyrrhus. The rugged Pyrrhus,-he, whose sable arms, To their vile murthers: Roasted in wrath and fire, With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus Old grandsire Priam seeks. Pol. 'Fore God, my lord, well spoken; with good accent, and good discretion. 1 Play. Anon he finds him Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword, Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick : But, as we often see, against some storm, A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still, Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods, a Gules-red, in heraldic phrase. b Trick'd-painted; also a word in heraldry. Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel, Pol. This is too long. Ham. It shall to the barber's, with your beard.Prithee, say on :-He's for a jig, or a tale of bawdry; or he sleeps:-say on: come to Hecuba. 1 Play. But who, O who, had seen the mobled queen,Ham. The mobled b queen? Pol. That's good: mobled queen is good. 1 Play. Run barefoot up and down, threat'ning the flame In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs, (Unless things mortal move them not at all,) Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven, Pol. Look, whether he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears in 's eyes.-Pray you, no more. Ham. "T is well; I'll have thee speak out the rest soon.-Good my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for they are the abstracts, and brief chronicles, of the time; After your death you were better have a bad epitaph, than their ill report while you lived. Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their desert. Ham. Odd's bodikin man, better: Use every man after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping! Use them after your own honour and dignity: The less they a Ajig, a ludicrous interlude. b Mobled, mabled, is hastily muffled up. deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. Take them in. Pol. Come, sirs. [Exit PoL. with some of the Players. Ham. Follow him, friends: we 'll hear a play tomorrow.--. --Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you play the murther of Gonzago? 1 Play. Ay, my lord. Ham. We'll have 't to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which I would set down, and insert in 't? could you not? 1 Play. Ay, my lord. Ham. Very well.-Follow that lord; and look you mock him not. [Exit Player.] My good friends, [To Ros. and GUIL.] I'll leave you till night: you are welcome to Elsinore. Ros. Good my lord! [Exeunt Ros. and GUIL. A broken voice, and his whole function suiting What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? What would he do, That I have? He would drown the stage with tears, Free-free from offence. Yet I, A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward? Why, I should take it for it cannot be, What an ass am I! ay, sure, this is most brave; Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, A scullion! Fye upon t! foh! About, my brains! I have heard, For inuither, though it have no tongue, will speak a John-a-dreams—a sobriquet for a heavy, lethargic fellow. |