Pol. Looke where he ha's not turn'd his colour, and ha's teares in's eyes. Pray you no more

Ham. 'Tis well, Ile haue thee speake out the rest, soone. Good my Lord, will you see the Players wel bestow'd.

Do ye heare, let them be well vs'd: for they are the Abstracts and breefe Chronicles of the time. After your death, you were better haue a bad Epitaph, then their ill report while you liued

Pol. My Lord, I will vse them according to their desart

Ham. G.o.ds bodykins man, better. Vse euerie man after his desart, and who should scape whipping: vse them after your own Honor and Dignity. The lesse they deserue, the more merit is in your bountie. Take them in

Pol. Come sirs.

Exit Polon.

Ham. Follow him Friends: wee'l heare a play to morrow.

Dost thou heare me old Friend, can you play the murther of Gonzago?

Play. I my Lord

Ham. Wee'l ha't to morrow night. You could for a need study a speech of some dosen or sixteene lines, which I would set downe, and insert in't? Could ye not?

Play. I my Lord

Ham. Very well. Follow that Lord, and looke you mock him not. My good Friends, Ile leaue you til night you are welcome to Elsonower?

Rosin. Good my Lord.

Exeunt.

Manet Hamlet.

Ham. I so, G.o.d buy'ye: Now I am alone.

Oh what a Rogue and Pesant slaue am I?

Is it not monstrous that this Player heere, But in a Fixion, in a dreame of Pa.s.sion, Could force his soule so to his whole conceit, That from her working, all his visage warm'd; Teares in his eyes, distraction in's Aspect, A broken voyce, and his whole Function suiting With Formes, to his Conceit? And all for nothing?

For Hecuba?

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weepe for her? What would he doe, Had he the Motiue and the Cue for pa.s.sion That I haue? He would drowne the Stage with teares, And cleaue the generall eare with horrid speech: Make mad the guilty, and apale the free, Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed, The very faculty of Eyes and Eares. Yet I, A dull and muddy-metled Rascall, peake Like Iohn a-dreames, vnpregnant of my cause, And can say nothing: No, not for a King, Vpon whose property, and most deere life, A d.a.m.n'd defeate was made. Am I a Coward?

Who calles me Villaine? breakes my pate a-crosse?

Pluckes off my Beard, and blowes it in my face?

Tweakes me by'th' Nose? giues me the Lye i'th' Throate, As deepe as to the Lungs? Who does me this?

Ha? Why I should take it: for it cannot be, But I am Pigeon-Liuer'd, and lacke Gall To make Oppression bitter, or ere this, I should haue fatted all the Region Kites With this Slaues Offall, bloudy: a Bawdy villaine, Remorselesse, Treacherous, Letcherous, kindles villaine!

Oh Vengeance!

Who? What an a.s.se am I? I sure, this is most braue, That I, the Sonne of the Deere murthered, Prompted to my Reuenge by Heauen, and h.e.l.l, Must (like a Wh.o.r.e) vnpacke my heart with words, And fall a Cursing like a very Drab.

A Scullion? Fye vpon't: Foh. About my Braine.

I haue heard, that guilty Creatures sitting at a Play, Haue by the very cunning of the Scoene, Bene strooke so to the soule, that presently They haue proclaim'd their Malefactions.

For Murther, though it haue no tongue, will speake With most myraculous Organ. Ile haue these Players, Play something like the murder of my Father, Before mine Vnkle. Ile obserue his lookes, Ile rent him to the quicke: If he but blench I know my course. The Spirit that I haue seene May be the Diuell, and the Diuel hath power T' a.s.sume a pleasing shape, yea and perhaps Out of my Weaknesse, and my Melancholly, As he is very potent with such Spirits, Abuses me to d.a.m.ne me. Ile haue grounds More Relatiue then this: The Play's the thing, Wherein Ile catch the Conscience of the King.

Exit

Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance, Guildenstern, and Lords.

King. And can you by no drift of circ.u.mstance Get from him why he puts on this Confusion: Grating so harshly all his dayes of quiet With turbulent and dangerous Lunacy

Rosin. He does confesse he feeles himselfe distracted, But from what cause he will by no meanes speake

Guil. Nor do we finde him forward to be sounded, But with a crafty Madnesse keepes aloofe: When we would bring him on to some Confession Of his true state

Qu. Did he receiue you well?

Rosin. Most like a Gentleman

Guild. But with much forcing of his disposition

Rosin. n.i.g.g.ard of question, but of our demands Most free in his reply

Qu. Did you a.s.say him to any pastime?

Rosin. Madam, it so fell out, that certaine Players We ore-wrought on the way: of these we told him, And there did seeme in him a kinde of ioy To heare of it: They are about the Court, And (as I thinke) they haue already order This night to play before him

Pol. 'Tis most true: And he beseech'd me to intreate your Maiesties To heare, and see the matter

King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me To heare him so inclin'd. Good Gentlemen, Giue him a further edge, and driue his purpose on To these delights

Rosin. We shall my Lord.

Exeunt.

King. Sweet Gertrude leaue vs too, For we haue closely sent for Hamlet hither, That he, as 'twere by accident, may there Affront Ophelia. Her Father, and my selfe (lawful espials) Will so bestow our selues, that seeing vnseene We may of their encounter frankely iudge, And gather by him, as he is behaued, If't be th' affliction of his loue, or no.

That thus he suffers for

Qu. I shall obey you, And for your part Ophelia, I do wish That your good Beauties be the happy cause Of Hamlets wildenesse: so shall I hope your Vertues Will bring him to his wonted way againe, To both your Honors

Ophe. Madam, I wish it may

Pol. Ophelia, walke you heere. Gracious so please ye We will bestow our selues: Reade on this booke, That shew of such an exercise may colour Your lonelinesse. We are oft too blame in this, 'Tis too much prou'd, that with Deuotions visage, And pious Action, we do surge o're The diuell himselfe

King. Oh 'tis true: How smart a lash that speech doth giue my Conscience?

The Harlots Cheeke beautied with plaist'ring Art Is not more vgly to the thing that helpes it, Then is my deede, to my most painted word.

Oh heauie burthen!

Pol. I heare him comming, let's withdraw my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the Question: Whether 'tis n.o.bler in the minde to suffer The Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune, Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles, And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepe No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes That Flesh is heyre too? 'Tis a consummation Deuoutly to be wish'd. To dye to sleepe, To sleepe, perchance to Dreame; I, there's the rub, For in that sleepe of death, what dreames may come, When we haue shuffel'd off this mortall coile, Must giue vs pawse. There's the respect That makes Calamity of so long life: For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time, The Oppressors wrong, the poore mans Contumely, The pangs of dispriz'd Loue, the Lawes delay, The insolence of Office, and the Spurnes That patient merit of the vnworthy takes, When he himselfe might his Quietus make With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare To grunt and sweat vnder a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The vndiscouered Countrey, from whose Borne No Traueller returnes, Puzels the will, And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue, Then flye to others that we know not of.

Thus Conscience does make Cowards of vs all, And thus the Natiue hew of Resolution Is sicklied o're, with the pale cast of Thought, And enterprizes of great pith and moment, With this regard their Currants turne away, And loose the name of Action. Soft you now, The faire Ophelia? Nimph, in thy Orizons Be all my sinnes remembred

Ophe. Good my Lord, How does your Honor for this many a day?

Ham. I humbly thanke you: well, well, well

Ophe. My Lord, I haue Remembrances of yours, That I haue longed long to re-deliuer.

I pray you now, receiue them

Ham. No, no, I neuer gaue you ought

Ophe. My honor'd Lord, I know right well you did, And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd, As made the things more rich, then perfume left: Take these againe, for to the n.o.ble minde Rich gifts wax poore, when giuers proue vnkinde.