Oph. Belike, this fhow imports the Argument of the Play?

Enter Prologue.

:

Ham. We shall know by this fellow the Players cannot keep counsel; they'll tell all.

Oph. Will he tell us, what this show meant?

Ham. Ay, or any show that you'll fhew him. Be not you ashamed to fhew, he'll not shame to tell you what it means.

Oph. You are naught, you are naught, I'll mark the Play.

Prol. For us, and for our tragedy,

Here ftooping to your clemency,

We beg your hearing patiently.

Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? Oph. 'Tis breef, my lord.

Ham. As woman's love.

Enter Duke, and Dutchefs, Players.

Duke. Full thirty times hath Phœbus' Car gone

round

Neptune's falt wash, and Tullus' 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,

So far from cheer and from your former ftate,
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.

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 must leave thee, Love, and shortly

too:

My operant powers their functions leave to do,
And thou fhalt live in this fair world behind,
Honour'd, belov'd; and, haply, one as kind
For husband shalt thou-

Dutch. Oh, confound the reft!

Such love muft needs be treason in my breast:
In fecond husband let me be accurft!
None wed the fecond, but who kill the firft.
Ham. Wormwood, wormwood!

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
fpeak;

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

Το pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt :
What to ourselves in paffion we propose,
The paffion ending, doth the purpose lose ;
The violence of either grief or joy,

Their own enactors with themfelves deftroy.
Where joy moft 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 fortunes change.
For 'tis a queftion left us yet to prove,

Whether love leads fortune, or elfe fortune love.
The Great man down, you mark, his fav'rite flies ;
The poor advanc'd, makes friends of enemies.

And

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,
Direâly feasons 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.
Think ftill, thou wilt no fecond husband wed;
But die thy thoughts, when thy firft lord is dead.
Dutch. Nor earth to me give food, nor heav'n
light!

Sport and repofe lock from me, day and night!
To defperation turn my truft and hope!
And Ancor's cheer in prifon be my scope!
Each oppofite, that blanks the face of joy,
Meet what I would have well, and it deftroy!
Both here, and hence, pursue me lafting ftrife!
If, once a widow, ever I be wife.

Ham. If fhe 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 he'll keep her word.

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

Ham. No, no, they do but jeft, poison 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; Gonzago is the Duke's name, his Wife's Baptifta; you fhall fee anon, 'tis a knavifh piece of

N 5

Work ;

Work; but what o'that? your Majefty, and we that have free fouls, it touches us not; let the galled 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:

Confedrate feason, and no creature seeing:

Thou mixture rank, of mid-night weeds collected,
With Hecate's ban thrice blafted, thrice infected,
Thy natural magic, and dire property,

On wholesome life ufurp immediately.

[Pours the poifon into his ears. Ham. He poifons him i' th' garden for's eftate; his name's Gonzago; the story is extant, and writ in choice Italian. You fhall fee anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife.

Oph. The King rifes.

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.

SCENE

Manent Hamlet and Horatio.

Ham. The hart ungalled play:
HY, let the ftrucken deer go weep,
WH

For fome muft watch, whilft fome muft fleep;
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 fhoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of Players, Sir?

Hor. Half a share.

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.

Hor. You might have rhym'd.

Ham. Oh, good Horatio, I'll take the Ghoft's word for a thousand pounds. Didit perceive?

Hor. Very well, my lord.

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

Enter Rofincrantz and Guildenftern.

Ham. Oh, ah! come, fome mufic: Come, the recorders.

For if the King like not the comedy;

Why, then, belike, he likes it not, perdy.

Come, fome mufic.

[you.

Guil. Good my lord, vouchfafe me a word with

Ham. Sir, a whole history.

Guil. The King, Sir

Ham. Ay, Sir, what of him?

Guil. Is, in his retirement, marvellous diftemper'd-
Ham. With drink, Sir?

Guil. No, my lord, with choler.

Ham. Your wifdom fhould fhew itself more rich,