ACT II

Scene I.A room in the house of Polonius.

Enter Polonius and Reynaldo.

Pol. Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo.

Rey. I will, my lord.

Pol. You shall do marvell's wisely, good Reynaldo，

Before you visit him, to make inquire of his behaviour.

Rey. My lord, I did intend it.

Pol. Marry, well said, very well said.Look you, sir，

Enquire me frst what Danskers are in Paris；

And how, and who：what means；and where they keep：

What company, at what expense：and fnding

By this encompassment and drift of question，

That they do know my son, come you more nearer

Than your particular demands will touch it，

Take you, as'twere, some distant knowledge of him，

As thus，‘I know his father and his friends，

And in part him.'Do you mark this, Reynaldo?

Rey. Ay, very well my lord.

Pol.‘And in part him, but，'you may say，‘not well；

But if't be he I mean, he's very wild；

Addicted so and so；'and there put on him

What forgeries you please；marry, none so rank，

As may dishonour him；take heed of that：

But sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips，

As are companions noted and most known

To youth and liberty.

Rey. As gaming, my lord.

Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling，

Drabbing. You may go so far.

Rey. My lord, that would dishonour him.

Pol. Faith no, as you may season it in the charge.

You must not put another scandal on him，

That he is open to incontinency；

That's not my meaning：but breathe his faults so quaintly，

That they may seem the taints of liberty；

The fash and outbreak of a fery mind，

A savageness in unreclaimed blood

Of general assault.

Rey. But my good lord—

Pol. Wherefore should you do this?

Rey. Ay, my lord，

I would know that.

Pol. Marry sir, here's my drift，

And I believe it is a fetch of warrant：

You laying these slight sullies on my son，

As'twere a thing a little soil'd i'th'working：

Mark you，

Your party in converse, him you would sound，

Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes，

The youth you breathe of guilty, be assur'd

He closes with you in this consequence：

Good sir, or so, or friend, or gentleman，

According to the phrase or the addition，

Of man and country.

Rey. Very good, my lord.

Pol. And then, sir, does he this, a does what was I about to say?By the mass, I was about to say something：Where did I leave?

Rey. At‘closes in the consequence.'At‘friend or so，'and‘gentleman.'

Pol. At‘closes in the consequence，'ay marry.

He closes with you thus. I know the gentleman，

I saw him yesterday, or t'other day，

Or then, or then；with such or such；and as you say，

There was a, gaming, there o'ertook in's rouse，

There falling out at tennis；or perchance，

‘I saw him enter such a house of sale；'

‘Videlicet，'a brothel, or so forth.

See you now；

Your bait of falsehood, takes this carp of truth；

And thus do we of wisdom and of reach

With windlasses, and with assays of bias，

By indirections fnd directions out：

So by my former lecture and advice，

Shall you my son；you have me, have you not?

Rey. My lord, I have.

Pol. God be wi'you；fare you well.

Rey. Good my lord！

Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself.

Rey. I shall, my lord.

Pol. And let him ply his music.

Rey. Well, my lord.

Pol. Farewell.

Exit Reynaldo.

Enter Ophelia.

How now Ophelia, what's the matter?

Oph. Alas my lord！I have been so affrighted.

Pol. With what, in the name of God?

Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet，

Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd，

No hat upon his head, his stockings foul'd，

Ungart'red, and down-gyved to his ankle；

Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other，

And with a look so piteous in purport，

As if he had been loosed out of hell，

To speak of horrors：he comes before me.

Pol. Mad for thy love?

Oph. My lord, I do not know：

But truly I do fear it.

Pol. What said he?

Oph. He took me by the wrist, and held me hard；

Then goes he to the length of all his arm；

And with his other hand thus o'er his brow，

He falls to such perusal of my face

As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so；

At last, a little shaking of mine arm，

And thrice his head thus waving up and down；

He rais'd a sigh, so piteous and profound，

As it did seem to shatter all his bulk，

And end his being. That done, he lets me go，

And with his head over his shoulder turn'd，

He seem'd to fnd his way without his eyes，

For out o'doors he went without their help；

And to the last bended their light on me.

Pol. Come, go with me.I will go seek the king.

This is the very ecstasy of love，

Whose violent property fordoes itself，

And leads the will to desperate undertakings，

As oft as any passion under heaven，

That does affict our natures. I am sorry.

What, have you given him any hard words of late?Oph. No my good lord；but, as you did command，

I did repel his letters, and denied

His access to me.

Pol. That hath made him mad.

I am sorry that with better heed and judgment

I had not quoted him. I fear'd he did but trife，

And meant to wrack thee：but beshrew my jealousy：

It seems it is as proper to our age，

To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions，

As it is common for the younger sort

To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king.

This must be known, which being kept close might move

More grief to hide, than hate to utter love.

Come.

Exeunt.

Scene II.A room in the Castle.

Enter King and Queen, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, with others.

King Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

Moreover, that we much did long to see you，

The need we have to use you did provoke

Our hasty sending. Something have you heard

Of Hamlet's transformation：so I call it，

Since nor th'exterior nor the inward man

Resembles that it was. What should it be

More than his father's death, that thus hath put him

So much from th'understanding of himself，

I cannot dream of：I entreat you both，

That being of so young clays brought up with him：

And since so neighbour'd to his youth, and humour，

That you vouchsafe your rest here in our Court

Some little time：so by your companies

To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather

So much as from occasion you may glean，

Whether aught to us unknown afficts him thus

That, open'd lies within our remedy.

Queen Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you，

And sure I am, two men there are not living，

To whom he more adheres. If it will please you

To show us so much gentry, and good will，

As to expend your time with us awhile，

For the supply and proft of our hope，

Your visitation shall receive such thanks

As fts a king's remembrance.

Ros. Both your majesties

Might by the sovereign power you have of us，

Put your dread pleasures, more into command

Than to entreaty.

Guil. But we both obey，

And here give up ourselves, in the full bent，

To lay our service freely at your feet，

To be commanded.

King Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.

Queen Thanks Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz.

And I beseech you instantly to visit

My too much changed son. Go, some of you，

And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.

Guil. Heavens make our presence and our practices

Pleasant and helpful to him.

Queen Ay, amen！

Exeunt Rosencrantz, Guildenstern and some Attendants.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. Th'ambassadors from Norway, my good lord，

Are joyfully return'd.

King Thou still hast been the father of good news.

Pol. Have I, my lord?I assure you, my good liege，

I hold my duty, as I hold my soul，

Both to my God and to my gracious king；

And I do think, or else this brain of mine

Hunts not the trail of policy, so sure

As it hath us'd to do, that I have found

The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.

King O'speak of that, that do I long to hear.

Pol. Give frst admittance to th'ambassadors，

My news shall be the fruit to that great feast.

King Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in.

Exit Polonius.

He tells me, my sweet queen, he hath found

The head and source of all your son's distemper.

Queen I doubt it is no other, but the main，

His father's death, and our o'erhasty marriage.

King Well, we shall sift him.

Enter Polonius, Voltemand and Cornelius.

Welcome, my good friends：

Say, Voltemand, what from our brother Norway?

Volt. Most fair return of greetings and desires.

Upon our frst, he sent out to suppress

His nephew's levies, which to him appear'd

To be a preparation'gainst the Polack；

But better look'd into, he truly found

It was against your highness, whereat griev'd，

That so his sickness, age, and impotence

Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests

On Fortinbras, which he, in brief, obeys，

Receives rebuke from Norway：and in fne，

Makes vow before his uncle, never more

To give th'assay of arms against your majesty.

Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy，

Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee，

And his commission to employ those soldiers

So levied as before, against the Polack：

With an entreaty herein further shown，

Giving a paper.

That it might please you to give quiet pass

Through your dominions, for this enterprise，

On such regards of safety and allowance，

As therein are set down.

King It likes us well；

And at our more consider'd time we'll read，

Answer, and think upon this business.

Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour.

Go to your rest, at night we'll feast together.

Most welcome home.

Exeunt Ambassadors.

Pol. This business is well ended.

My liege, and madam, to expostulate

What majesty should be, what duty is，

Why day is day, night is night, and time is time.

Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time.

Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit，

And tediousness, the limbs and outward fourishes，

I will be brief. Your noble son is mad：

Mad call I it；for to defne true madness，

What is't, but to be nothing else but mad.

But let that go.

Queen More matter, with less art.

Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all：

That he is mad，'tis true：'tis true'tis pity，

And pity'tis true：a foolish fgure，

But farewell it：for I will use no art.

Mad let us grant him then：and now remains

That we fnd out the cause of this effect，

Or rather say, the cause of this defect；

For this effect defective, comes by cause：

Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.

Perpend.

I have a daughter：have, while she is mine，

Who in her duty and obedience, mark，

Hath given me this：now gather, and surmise.

To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified Ophelia.'

‘That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase；beautifed is a vile phrase；but you shall hear. Thus：‘I in her excellent white bosom, these—'

Queen Came this from Hamlet to her?

Pol. Good madam stay awhile, I will be faithful.

‘Doubt thou the stars are fre，

Doubt that the sun doth move，

Doubt truth to be a liar，

But never doubt, I love.

O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers：I have not art to reckon my groans；but that I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu.

Thine evermore most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him，

HAMLET.'

This in obedience hath my daughter show'd me：

And more above hath his solicitings，

As they fell out by time, by means, and place，

All given to mine ear.

King But how hath she receiv'd his love?

Pol. What do you think of me?

King As of a man faithful and honourable.

Pol. I would fain prove so.But what might you think?

When I had seen this hot love on the wing，

As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that，

Before my daughter told me, what might you，

Or my dear majesty your queen here, think，

If I had play'd the desk or table book，

Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb，

Or look'd upon this love, with idle sight，

What might you think?No, I went round to work，

And my young mistress thus I did bespeak，

Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star，

‘This must not be，'and then I prescripts gave her，

That she should lock herself from his resort，

Admit no messengers, receive no tokens：

Which done, she took the fruits of my advice，

And he repulsed, a short tale to make，

Fell into a sadness, then into a fast，

Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness，

Thence to a lightness, and by this declension

Into the madness wherein now he raves，

And all we wail for.

King Do you think'tis this?

Queen It may be, very likely.

Pol. Hath there been such a time.I would fain know that，

That I have positively said，‘'Tis so，'

When it prov'd otherwise?

King Not that I know.

Pol. Take this from this, if this be otherwise.

Pointing to his head and shoulder.

If circumstances lead me, I will fnd

Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed

Within the centre.

King How may we try it further?

Pol. You know sometimes he walks four hours together，

Here in the lobby.

Queen So he does indeed.

Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him；

Be you and I behind an arras then；

Mark the encounter：if he love her not，

And he not from his reason fall'n thereon；

Let me be no assistant for a state，

But keep a farm and carters.

King We will try it.

Queen But look where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.

Pol. Away！I do beseech you, both away，

I'll board him presently.

Exeunt King and Queen.

Enter Hamlet, reading on a book.

O, give me leave.

How does my good lord Hamlet?

Ham. Well, God-a-mercy.

Pol. Do you know me, my lord?

Ham. Excellent well.You are a fshmonger.

Pol. Not I my lord.

Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man.

Pol. Honest, my lord.

Ham. Ay, sir.To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man

pick'd out of ten thousand.

Pol. That's very true, my lord.

Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a godkissing carrion.Have you a daughter?

Pol. I have, my lord.

Ham. Let her not walk i'th'sun.Conception is a blessing, but not

as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to't.

Pol.[Aside.]How say you by that?Still harping on my daughter：yet he knew me not at frst；he said I was a fshmonger：he is far gone, far gone, and truly in my youth I suff'red much extremity for love：very near this. I'll speak to him again.What do you read, my lord?

Ham. Words, words, words.

Pol. What is the matter, my lord?

Ham. Between who?

Pol. I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.

Ham. Slanders sir：for the satirical rogue says here, that old men have grey beards；that their faces are wrinkled；their eyes purging thick amber, or plum-tree gum；and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams.All which sir, though I most powerfully, and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down；for you yourself sir, should be old as I am, if like a crab you could go backward.

Pol.[Aside.]Though this be madness, yet there is method in't. Will You walk out of the air, my lord?

Ham. Into my grave?

Pol. Indeed that is out o'th'air.[Aside.]How pregnant sometimes his replies are！A happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of.I will leave him and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter.My honourable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.

Ham. You cannot sir, take from me anything that I will more willingly part withal, except my life, my life，

Pol. Fare you well, my lord.[Going.]

Ham. These tedious old fools.

Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

Pol. You go to seek the lord Hamlet.There he is.

Ros. God save you, sir！

Exit Polonius.

Guil. My honour'd lord！

Ros. My most dear lord！

Ham. My excellent good friends！How dost thou, Guildenstern?Ah，

Rosencrantz！Good lads, how do ye both?

Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth.

Guil. Happy, in that we are not over-happy：

On Fortune's cap, we are not the very button.

Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe?

Ros. Neither my lord.

Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favours?

Guil. Faith, her privates, we.

Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune?Oh, most true：she is a strumpet.What's the news?

Ros. None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest.

Ham. Then is doomsday near；But your news is not true.Let me question more in particular：What have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of Fortune that she sends you to prison hither?

Guil. Prison, my lord?

Ham. Denmark's a prison.

Ros. Then is the world one.

Ham. A goodly one, in which there are many confnes, wards and dungeons；Denmark being one o'th'worst.

Ros. We think not so my lord.

Ham. Why then'tis none to you；for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so：to me it is a prison.

Ros. Why then your ambition makes it one：'tis too narrow for your mind.

Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nut-shell, and count myself a king of infnite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.

Guil. Which dreams indeed are ambition；for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.

Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow.

Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow.

Ham. Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretch'd heroes the beggars'shadows：shall we to th'court：for, by my fay, I cannot reason.

Both We'll wait upon you.

Ham. No such matter.I will not sort you with the rest of my servants：for to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended.But in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore?

Ros. To visit you, my lord, no other occasion.

Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks；but I thank you；and sure dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny, were you not sent for?Is it your own inclining?Is it a free visitation?Come, deal justly with me.Come, come！Nay, speak.

Guil. What should we say, my lord?

Ham. Why anything.But to th'purpose；you were sent for；and there is a kind of confession in your looks, which your modesties have not craft enough to colour, I know the good king and queen have sent for you.

Ros. To what end, my lord?

Ham. That you must teach me：but let me conjure you by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear, a better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for or no.

Ros.[Aside to Guildenstern.]What say you?

Ham.[Aside.]Nay then I have an eye of you：if you love me, hold not off.

Guil. My lord, we were sent for.

Ham. I will tell you why；shall my anticipation prevent your discovery and your secrecy to the king and queen, moult no feather.I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises；and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition；that this goodly frame the earth， seems to me a sterile promontory；this most excellent canopy the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging frmament, this majestical roof, fretted with golden fire：why, it appeareth no other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.What a piece of work is a man！How noble in reason！How infnite in faculties！In form and moving how express and admirable！In action, how like an angel！In apprehension how like a god！The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals！And yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust?Man delights not me；no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.

Ros. My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.

Ham. Why did you laugh then, when I said‘man delights not me?'

Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you；we coted them on the way, and hither are they coming to offer you service.

Ham. He that plays the king shall be welcome；his majesty shall have tribute of me；the adventurous knight shall use his foil and target；the lover shall not sigh gratis；the humorous man shall end his part in peace；the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickle o'th'sere；and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt fort：what players are they?

Ros. Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the tragedians of the city.

Ham. How chances it they travel?Their residence both in reputation and proft was better both ways.

Ros. I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation.

Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city?Are they so follow'd?

Ros. No indeed, they are not.

Ham. How comes it?Do they grow rusty?

Ros. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace；but there is sir, an aery of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top of question；and are most tyrannically clapp'd fort.These are now the fashion, and so berattle the common stages—so they call them—that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goosequills, and dare scarce come thither.

Ham. What, are they children?Who maintains'em?How are they escoted?Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing?Will they not say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common players—as it is most like, if their means are no better—their writers do them wrong to make them exclaim against their own succession?

Ros. Faith, there has been much to do on both sides；and the nation holds it no sin to tarre them, to controversy.There was for a while, no money bid for argument, unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question.

Ham. Is't possible?

Guil. O there has been much throwing about of brains.

Ham. Do the boys carry it away?

Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord, Hercules and his load too.

Ham. It is not very strange；for my uncle is king of Denmark, and those that would make mows at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, a hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little.'Sblood, there is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could fnd it out.

Flourish of trunpets within.

Guil. There are the players.

Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore：your hands, come：th'appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony.Let me comply with you in this garb, lest my extent to the players—which I tell you must show fairly outwards—should more appear like entertainment than yours.You are welcome；but my uncle father and aunt-mother are deceiv'd.

Guil. In what, my dear lord?

Ham. I am but mad north-north-west：when the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen.

Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern, and you too：at each ear a hearer：that great baby you see there, is not yet out of his swaddling clouts.

Ros. Happily he's the second time come to them；for they say an old man is twice a child.

Ham. I will prophesy.He comes to tell me of the players.Mark it.You say right sir：for a Monday morning'twas so indeed.

Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you.

Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you.When Roscius was an actor in Rome—

Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord.

Ham. Buzz, buzz.

Pol. Upon my honour.

Ham. Then came each actor on his ass—

Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited.Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light, for the law of writ and the liberty.These are the only men.

Ham. O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou?

Pol. What treasure had he, my lord?

Ham. Why，

One fair daughter, and no more，

The which he loved passing well.

Pol.[Aside.]Still on my daughter.

Ham. Am I not i'th'right, old Jephthah?

Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I love passing well.

Ham. Nay that follows not.

Pol. What follows then, my lord?

Ham. Why，‘as by lot, God wot，'and then，‘you know, it came to pass, as most like it was.'The frst row of the pious chanson will show you more.For look where my abridgment comes.

Enter four or fve Players.

You are welcome, masters, welcome all. I am glad to see thee well：welcome good friends.O my old friend?Thy face is valanc'd 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 to 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 crack’d within the ring.Masters, you are all welcome：we’ll e’en to’t like French falconers, fly at anything we see：we’ll have a speech straight.Come, give us a taste of your quality：come, a passionate speech.

1st. Player What speech, my good 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 pleas'd not the million，'twas caviary to the general；but it was（as I receiv'd 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 indict the author of affectation, but call'd it an honest method.As wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fne.One speech in't I chiefy lov’d，’twas Aeneas’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 th'Hyrcanian beast.'

It is not so；it begins with Pyrrhus.

‘The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms.

Black as his purpose, did the night resemble

When he lay couched in the ominous horse，

Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd

With heraldry more dismal：head to foot

Now is be total gules, horridly trick'd

With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons，

Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets，

That lend a tyrannous and a damned light

To their lord's murther, roasted in wrath and fre，

And thus o'ersized with coagulate gore，

With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus

Old grandsire Priam seeks.'

So proceed you.

Pol.'Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good discretion.

1st. Player‘Anon he fnds him，

Striking too short at Greeks. His antique sword，

Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls，

Repugnant to command：unequal match'd，

Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide；

But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword，

Th'unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium，

Seeming to feel this blow, with faming top

Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash

Takes prisoner Pyrrhus'ear. For lo, his sword，

Which was declining on the milky head

Of reverend Priam, seem'd i'th'air to stick：

So as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood，

And like a neutral to his will and matter，

Did nothing.

But as we often see against some storm，

A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still，

The bold winds speechless, and the orb below

As hush as death：anon the dreadful thunder

Doth rend the region. So after Pyrrhus'pause，

Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work，

And never did the Cyclops'hammers fall

On Mars's armour, forg'd for proof eterne，

With less remorse than Pyrrhus'bleeding sword

Now falls on Priam.

Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune, all you gods，

In general Synod take away her power；

Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel，

And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven，

As low as to the fends.'

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.

1st. Player‘But who, O who, had seen the mobled queen.'

Ham.‘The mobled queen?'

Pol. That's good：‘Mobled queen'is good.

1st. Player‘Run barefoot up and down, threat'ning the fame

With bisson rheum；a clout upon that head

Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe，

About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins，

A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up.

Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd，

’Gainst Fortune's state would treason have pronounc'd.

But if the gods themselves did see her then，

When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport

In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs，

The instant burst of clamour that she made，

Unless things mortal move them not at all.

Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven

And passion in the gods.'

Pol. Look, whe'es he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears in's eyes.Pray no more.

Ham.'Tis well. I'll have thee speak out the rest soon.Good my lord, will you see the players well bestow'd.Do you hear?Let them be well us'd；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 live.

Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their desert.

Ham. God's bodykins man, better.Use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping?Use them after your own honour and dignity.The less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty.Take them in.

Pol. Come sirs.

Ham. Follow him, friends.We'll hear a play to-morrow.

Exeunt Polonius and Players except the First.

Dost thou hear me, old friend?Can you play‘The Murther of Gonzago'?

1st. Player Ay, my lord.

Ham. We'll ha'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?

1st. Player Ay, my lord.

Ham. Very well.Follow that lord, and look you mock him not.

Exit First Player.

[To Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.]My good friends, I'll leave you till night. You are welcome to Elsinore.

Ros. Good my lord！

Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

Ham. Ay so, God be with ye：now I am alone.

Oh, what a rogue and peasant slave am I！

Is it not monstrous that this player here，

But in a fction, in a dream of passion，

Could force his soul so to his own conceit，

That from her working, all his visage wann'd，

Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect，

A broken voice, and his whole function suiting

With forms to his conceit?And all for nothing?

For Hecuba?

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba，

That he should weep for her?What would he do，

Had he the motive and the cue for passion

That I have?He would drown the stage with tears，

And cleave the general ear with horrid speech：

Make mad the guilty and appal the free，

Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed，

The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I，

A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak

Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause，

And can say nothing！No, not for a king，

Upon whose property, and most dear life

A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?

Who calls me villain?Breaks my pate across?

Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?

Tweaks me by th'nose?Gives me the lie i'th'throat，

As deep as to the lungs?Who does me this, ha?

Why, I should take it：for it cannot be，

But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall

To make oppression bitter, or ere this，

I should have fatted all the region kites

With this slave's offal, bloody, bawdy villain！

Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain！

O vengeance！

Why, what an ass am I?Sure, this is most brave，

That I, the son of a dear father murther'd，

Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell，

Must like a whore unpack my heart with words，

And fall a-cursing like a very drab.

A scullion！Fie upon't：foh. About, my brain.

Hum, I have heard that guilty creatures, sitting at a play，

Have by the very cunning of the scene，

Been struck so to the soul that presently

They have proclaim'd their malefactions.

For murther, though it have no tongue, will speak

With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players，

Play something like the murther of my father，

Before mine uncle. I'll observe his looks；

I'll tent him to the quick：if he but blench，

I know my course. The spirit that I have seen

May be a Devil, and the Devil hath power

T'assume a pleasing shape, yea and perhaps

Out of my weakness and my melancholy，

As he is very potent with such spirits，

Abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds

More relative than this：the play's the thing

Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.

Exit.