confidered: That's villainous, and fhews a most pitiful ambition in the fool that ufes it. Go make you ready. [Exeunt Players. Enter Polonius, Rofincroffe, 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. [Exit Polonius. Will you two help to haften them? Both. We will, my Lord. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Enter Horatio to Hamlet. Ham. What ho! Horatio! Hor. Here, fweet Lord, at your service. Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man As e'er my converfation cop'd withal. Hor. Oh my dear Lord Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter: For what advancement may I hope from thee, To feed and cloath thee? Should the poor be flatter'd ? And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, To found what flop the pleafe. Give me that man Do Do not it felf unkennel in one speech, As Vulcan's fmithy. Give him heedful note, And after we will both our judgments join, Hor. Well, my Lord. If he fteal aught the whilft this play is playing, Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rofincroffe, Guildenftern, and other Lords attendant, with a Guard carry ing torches. Danish march. Sound a flourish. Ham. They're coming to the play; I must be idle. a place. Get you King. How fares our coufin Hamlet? Ham. Excellent, i'faith, of the camelion's difh: I eat the air, promife-cramm'd: you cannot feed capons fo. King. I have nothing with this anfwer, Hamlet, thefe words are not mine. Ham. No, nor mine now, my Lord. i' th' univerfity, you say? Pol. That I did, my Lord, and was actor. Ham. And what did you enact? You plaid once [To Polonius. accounted a good Pol. I did enact Julius Cæfar, I was kill'd i'th' Capitol: Brutus kill'd me. Ham. It was a brute part of him, to kill fo capital a calf there. Be the players ready? Rof. Ay, my Lord, they ftay upon your patience. Ham. Lady, fhall I lye in your lap ? Oph. No, my Lord. [Lying down at Ophelia's feet. Ham. Do you think I meant country matters ? Opb. I think nothing, my Lord. Ham. That's a fair thought to lye between a maid's legs. M 2 Oph. What is, my Lord? Opb. You are merry, my Lord. Oph. Ay, my Lord. Ham. Oh God, your only jig-maker; what fhould a man do, but be merry? for look you how chearfully my mother looks, and my father dy'd within these two hours. Opb. Nay, 'tis two months, my Lord. ? Ham. So long nay then let the devil wear black, for I'll have a fuit of ermyn. Oh heav'ns! die two months ago, and not forgotten yet! then there's hope, a great man's memory may out-live his life half a year: but by'r lady, he must build churches then; or elfe fhall he fuffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horfe; whofe epitaph is, For b, for ob, the bobby-borfe is forgot. SCENE VII. Hautboys play. The Dumb fhew enters. Enter a Duke and Dutchess, with regal coronets, very lovingly; the Dutchess embracing him, and be her. He takes ber up, and declines bis bead upon her neck. Lays him down upon a bank of flowers. She feeing him asleep, leaves bim. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his coronet, kiffes it, and pours poifon in the Duke's ears, and Exit. The Dutchefs returns. finds the Duke dead, and makes paffionate action. The poifoner, with fome two or three mutes come in again, feeming to lament with her. The dead body is carried away. The poifoner wooes the Dutchess with gift, fhe feems loth and unwilling a while, but in the end accepts bis love. [Exeunt. Opb. What means this, my Lord? Ham. Marry this is miching Maliche, that means, chief. mifOpb. Belike this fhew imports the argument of the play? Enter Prologue. Ham. We shall know by this fellow: the Players can not keep counfel, they'll tell all. Opb. Will he tell us what this fhew meant? Ham. Ay, or any fhew that you'll fhew him. Be not you you afhamed to fhew, he'll not fhame to tell you what it means. Opb. 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 bearing patiently. Ham. Is this a prologue, or the pofie of a ring? Ham, As woman's love. Enter Duke and Dutchess, Players. Duke. Full thirty times hath Phoebus' car gone round Dutch. So many journeys may the fun and moot So far from cheer and from your former ftate, Now what my love is, proof hath made you know, Duke. "Faith, I must leave thee, love, and fhortly too : My operant powers their functions leave to do, And thou fhalt live in this fair world behind, Dutch. Oh confound the reft! Such love muft needs be treafon in my breaft: In fecond husband let me be accurft, None wed the fecond, but who kill'd the firft. Ham. Wormwood, wormwood! Dutch. The inftances that fecond marriage move, Are base refpects of thrift, but none of love. A fecond time I kill my husband dead, Duke. I do believe you think what now you speak; Of violent birth, but poor validity: Which now, like fruits unripe, fticks on the tree, To pay our felves what to ourselves is debt; Their own enactors with themselves destroy : Whether love fortune lead, or fortune love. For who not needs, fhall never lack a friend; 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 oh! give me food, nor heaven light! Sport and repofe lock from me, day and night; Each oppofite that blanks the face of joy, Ham, If the fhould break it now Duke |