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Pol. 'Tis most true:
And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties
To hear and see the matter.

King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me
To hear him so inclin'd.
Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,
And drive his purpose into these delights.
Rof. We shall, my lord.

King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too,
For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither,
That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
Affront Ophelia. Her father, and my self,
Will so bestow our selves, that seeing unseen

may of their encounter frankly judge,
And gather by him, as he is behaved,
Ift be th' affliction of his love, or no,
That thus he suffers for.

Queen. I shall obey you:
And for my part, Ophelia, I do with
That your good beauties be the happy cause
Of Hamlet's wildness. So I hope your virtues
May bring him to his wonted way again,
To both


Oph. Madam, I wish it may.

Pol. Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious, so please ye,
We will bestow our felves: read on this book;
That shew of such an exercise may colour
Your loneliness. We're oft to blame in this,
'Tis too much prov'd, that with devotion's visage,
And pious action we do fuger o’er
The devil himself.

King. Oh 'tis too true.
How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience! {afide.


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The harlot's cheek beautied with plastring art
Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it,
Than is my deed to my most painted word.
Ob heavy burthen!
Pol. I hear him coming, let's withdraw my lord.

[Exeunt all but Ophelia. SC E N E II.

Enter Hamlet.

To die,

Ham. To be, or not to be? that is the question
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer
The sings and arrows of outragious fortune ;
Or to take arms against a t sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?

-----to-sleep -----
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to ; 'is a consummation
Devoutly to be wilh’d. To die ----- to sleep
To sleep? perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub---
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pang of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of ch'unworthy takes;
When he himself might his Quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardles bear,

+ Perhaps siege, which continues the metaphor of flings, arrows, taking arms; and represents the being encompass’d on all sides with troubles.


To groan and' sweat under a weary life?
But that the dread of something after death,
(That undiscover'd country, from whose bourne
No traveller returns) puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all:
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought ;
And enterprizes of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action. ----Soft you now, (Seeing Oph.
The fair Ophelia ? nymph, in thy oraisons
Be all my sins remembred.

Oph. Good my lord,
How does your honour for this many a day?

Ham. I humbly thank you; well,

Opb. My lord, I have remembrances of yours,
That I have longed much to re-deliver.
I pray you now receive them.
Ham. No, I never gave you ought.

Oph. My honour'd lord, I know right well you did,
And with them words of so sweet breath compos’d,
As made the things more rich: that perfume loft,
Take these again ; for to the noble mind
Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.
There, my lord.

Ham. Ha, ha! are you honest?
Oph. My lord --
Ham. Are

Oph. What means your lordship?

Ham. That if you be honest and fair, you should admit no discourse to your beauty. Vol. VI. Еее





Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty

Ham. Ay truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is, to a bawd; than the force of hoaesty can translate beauty into its likeness. This was sometimes a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once.

Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

Ham. You should not have believed me. For virtue cannot. so innoculate our old stock, but we shall relish of it. "I loy'd

you not.

Oph. I was the more deceived.

Ham. Get thee to a nunnery. Why wouldst thou bea breeder of finners? I am my self indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better my mother had not born me.

I ain very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between heav'n and earth ? we are arrant knaves, believe none of us ------ Go thy ways to a nunnery



father? Oph. At home, my lord.

Ham. Let the doors be shut, upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house. Farewel.

Oph. Oh help bim, you sweet heav'ns!

Ham. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague, for thy dowry. Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny- Get thee to a nunnery, ----- farewel Or if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for. wise men know well enough, what monsters you make of them ------To a nunpery go and quickly too: farewel.

Oph. Heav'nly powers! restore him.

Ham. I have heard of your & painting-too, well enough: God has given you one" face, and you make yourself another. You-jigs

you evacuate in the first edition.

8 pratling.


f I did love you once.

b pace.

you amble, and you lisp, and nick-hame God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go, I'll no more on't, it hath made me mad. I fay, we will have no more marriages. Those that are married already, all but one, shall live, the rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go.

[Exit Hamlet. Oph. Oh what a noble mind is here o’erthrown! The courtiers, soldiers, scholars, eye, tongae, sword! Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion, and the mould of form, Th’ observd of all observers, quite, quite down! I am of ladies most deject and wretched, That suck'd the hony of his musick vows: Now see that noble and moft fovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled out of tune, and harsh; That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth, Blasted with ecstasie. Oh woe is me! T'have feen what I have feen; see what I see.


Enter King and Polonius.
Ring. Love! kis affections do not that way tend,
Nor what he spake, tho' it lack'd form a little,
Was not like madness. Something's in his soul,
O’er which his melancholy sits on brood,
And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose
Will be fome danger, which how to prevent,
I have in quick determination
Thus set it down. He shall with speed to England,
For the demand of our neglected tribute :
Haply the seas and countries different,
With variable objects, shall expel
This something fettled matter in his heart;

Eee 2


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