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 fhall, my lord.

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

Queen. I shall obey you:

And for my part, Ophelia, I do wish
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 your honours.

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 fhew of fuch an exercise may colour

Your loneliness. We're oft to blame in this,

'Tis too much prov'd, that with devotion's vifage, And pious action we do fuger o'er

The devil himself.

King. Oh 'tis too true.

[Exeunt.

How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience! [afide.

The

!

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.
Oh heavy burthen!

Pol. I hear him coming, let's withdraw my lord.

[Exeunt all but Ophelia.

SCENE II.

Enter Hamlet.

to fleep

Ham. To be, or not to be? that is the question --
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer
The flings and arrows of outragious fortune;
Or to take arms against a † sea of troubles,
And by oppofing end them? To die,
No more; and by a fleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to; 'tis a confummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die ----- to fleep

To fleep? perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub
For in that fleep 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' oppreffor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The
pang of despis'd love, the law's delay,

The infolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes;
When he himself might his Quietus make

With a bare bodkin? who would fardles bear,

+ Perhaps fiege, which continues the metaphor of flings, arrows, taking arms; and reprefents the being encompass'd on all fides with troubles.

• poor.

To groan and sweat under a weary life?
But that the dread of fomething 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 confcience does make cowards of us all:
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is ficklied o'er with the pale caft 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,
The fair Ophelia? nymph, in thy oraisons
Be all my fins remembred.

Oph. Good my lord,

How does your honour for this many a day?
Ham. I humbly thank you; well,

Oph. 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.

[Seeing Oph.

Oph. My honour'd lord, I know right well you did,
And with them words of fo fweet 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 honeft?

Oph. My lord

Ham. Are you fair?

Oph. What means your lordship?

Ham. That if you be honest and fair, you should admit no

discourse to your beauty.

VOL. VI.

d away.

Eee

Oph.

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

Ham. Ay truly; for the power of beauty will fooner transform honefty from what it is, to a bawd; than the force of honefty can translate beauty into its likeness. This was fometimes a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once. Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe fo.

Ham. You fhould not have believed me. For virtue cannot fo innoculate our old stock, but we fhall relifh of it. I lov'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 felf indifferent honeft, but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better my mother had not born me. I am 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 fhould fuch fellows as I do crawling between heav'n and earth? we are arrant knaves, believe none of us Go thy ways to a nunnery Where's your 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 him, you sweet heav'ns!

Ham. If thou doft marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy

dowry. Be thou as chafte as ice, as pure as fnow,

escape calumny ------ Get thee to a nunnery,

thou shalt not farewel---- Or

if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wife men know well enough, what monsters you make of them

go------ and quickly too: farewel.

Oph. Heav'nly powers! reftore him.

To a nunnery

Ham. I have heard of your painting too, well enough: God has given you one face, and you make your felf another. You jig,

evacuate in the first edition.

f I did love you once. 8 pratling

you

b pace.

you amble, and you lifp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonnefs your ignorance. Go, I'll no moré on't, it hath made me mad. I fay, we will have no more marriages. Those that are married already, all but one, fhall live, the reft 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, tongue, sword! Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state,

The glass of fashion, and the mould of form,

Th' observ❜d of all obfervers, quite, quite down!
I am of ladies most deject and wretched,
That fuck'd the hony of his mufick vows:
Now fee that noble and moft fovereign reason,
Like sweet bells jangled out of tune, and harsh;
That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth,
Blafted with ecftafie. Oh woe is me!

T'have feen what I have feen; see what I fee.

Enter King and Polonius.

King. Love! his 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 foul,
O'er which his melancholy fits on brood,
And I do doubt the hatch and the disclofe
Will be fome danger, which how to prevent,

I have in quick determination

Thus fet it down. He fhall with fpeed to England,
For the demand of our neglected tribute:

Haply the feas and countries different,

With variable objects, shall expel

This fomething fettled matter in his heart;

Eee 2

Where