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The passion ending, doth the purpose lofe ;
The violence of either grief or joy,
Their own enactors with themselves destroy..
Where joy most revels, grief doth moft lament;
Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.
This world is not for aye ; nor 'tis not ftrange,
That ev'n our loves should with our fortunes change.
For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,
Whether love leads fortune, or else fortune love.
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, shall 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 still are overthrown ;
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.
Think still, thou wilt no second husband wed;
But die thy thoughts, when thy first lord is dead.

Dutch. Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light!
Sport and repofe lock from me, day and night!
To desperation turn my trust and hope !
An Anchor's cheer in prison be my scope !
Each opposite, that blanks the face of joy,
Meet what I would have well, and it deftroy!
Both here, and hence, pursue me lasting strife!
If, once a widow, ever I be wife.

Ham. If the should break it now
Duke. 'Tis deeply sworn ; Sweet, leave me here a

while ;
My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
The tedious day with sleep.

[Sleeps.
Dutch. Sleep rock thy brain,
And never come mifchance between us twain! [Exit.

Ham. Madam, how like you this Play ?
Queen. The lady protests too much, methinks.
Ham Oh, but she'll keep her word.

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

Ham. No, no, they do but jest, poison in jeft, no offence i'ch' world.

King. What do you call the Play?

Ham. The Mouse-Trap;Marry, how? tropically. This Play is the image of a murther done in Vienna; Gonzago is the Duke's name, his wife's Baptisa; you shall see anon, 'tis a knavith piece of Work; but what o' that? your Majesty, and we that have free souls, it touches us not ; let the gallid jade winch, oar withers are unwrung.

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 see the puppets dallying. Oph. You are keen, my lord,

you are keen, Ham. It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.

Oph. Still better and worse.
Ham. So you

mistake

your

husbands. Begin, murtherer. - 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 season, and no creature seeing :
Thou mixture rank, of mid-night weeds collected,
With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thy natural magick, and dire property,
On wholsom life ufurp immediately.

[Pours the poison into his ears. Ham. He poisons him i'th' garden for's estate; his name's Gonzago; the story is extant, and writ in choice Italian. You shall see anon how the murtherer gets the love of Gonzago's wife,

Oph. The King rises.
Ham. What, frighted with false fire!

Queen.

Queen. How fares

my

Jord?
Pol. Give o'er the Play.
King. Give me some light. Away!
All. Lights, lights, lights !

Exeunt,
Manent Hamlet and Horatio.
Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep,

The hart ungalled play ; for some must watch, whilst some must sleep;

So runs the world away. Would not this, Sir, and a forest of Feathers, (if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me) with two'provincial roses on my rayed shoes, 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 dismantled was Of Jove himself, and now reigns here " A very, very,

(20) Paddock.

Hor.

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(20) A very very Peacock.) The old Copies have it Paicock, Paicocke, and Pajocke. I substitute Paddock, as nearest to the Traces of the corrupted Reading. I have, as Mr. Pope says, been willing to substitute any Thing in the place of his peao cock. He thinks a Fable alluded to, of the Birds chuling a King; instead of the Eagle, a Peacock. I suppose, he must mean the Fable of Barlandus, in which it is said, The Birds bem ing weary of their State of Anarchy, moy'd for the setting up of a King: and the Peacock was elected on account of his gay feathers. But, with Submission, in this passage of our Shakespeare, there is not the least Mention made of the Eagle in Antithelis to the Peacock; and it must be by a very uncommon Figure, that Jove himself Aands in the place of his Bird. I think, Hamler is setting his Father's and Uncle's Characters in Contrast to each other: and means to say, that by his Father's Death the State was stripp'd of a godlike Monarch, and thank now in his Stead reignd the most despicable poisonous Animal that could be: a meer Paddock, or Toad. Pad, bufo, rubeta major; a toad. This Word, I take to be of Hamlet's own subVol. VIII,

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Hor You might have rhim'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 Rosincrantz and Guildenstern.
Ham. Oh, ha! come, some mufick: Come, the re-

corders.
For if the King like not the comedy ;
Why, then, belike, he likes it not, perdy.
Come, some musick,

Gul. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.
Ham. Sir, a whole history.
Guil. The King, Sir -
Ham. Ay, Sir, what of him?
Guil. Is, in his retirement, marvellous distemper'd
Ham. With drink, Sir?
Guil. No, my lord, with choler.

Ham. Your wisdom should shew it self more rich, to fignify this to his Doctor : for, for me to put him to his purgation, would, perhaps, plunge him into more choler.

Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and start not so wildly from my affair.

Ham. I am tame, Sir ; -pronounce. Guil. The Queen your mother, in moft great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you.

Ham. You are welcome.

Guil. Nay, good my lord, this Courtesy is not of the right Breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholsom answer, I will do your mother's commandment; if not, your pardon, and my return shall be the end of my business.

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ftituting. The Verses, repeated, seem to be from some old
Ballad; in which, Rhyme being necessary, I doubt not but the
laft Verse ran thus;
A very, very, Als;

Ham,

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you go to bed.

Have you any

Ham. Sir, I cannot.
Guil. What, my lord ?

Ham. Make you a wholsom answer : my wit's dif-
casid. But, Sir, such answer as I can make, you shall
command; or, rather, as you say, my mother
therefore no more but to the matter -my mother,
you say

Rol. Then thus the fays; your behaviour hath ftruck her into amazement, and admiration.

Ham. Oh wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother! But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration ?

Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere
Ham, We shall obey, were the ten times our mother.

further trade with lis ?
Rof. My lord, you once did love me.
Ham. So I do still, by these pickers and stealers.

Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper ? you do, surely, bar the door of your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend.

Ham. Sir, I lack advancement.

Rof. How can that be, when you have the voice of the King himself, for your succession in Denmark?

Ham. Ay, but while the grass grozu's the Proverb is something musty.

Enter one, with a Recorder. Oh, the Recorders; let me fee one. To withdraw with you-why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toil?

Guil. Oh my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is top unmannerly.

Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you play
upon this pipe
Guil. My lord, I cannot.
Ham. I pray you.
Guil. Believe me, I cannot.
Ham. I do beseech you.
Guil. I know no touch of it, my lord.

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