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her neck. Lays him down upon a bank of flowers. She seeing him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his crown, kisses it, and pours poison in the King's ears, and Exit. The Queen returns, finds the King dead, and makes passionate a{tion. The poysoner, with some two or three mutes come in again, seeming to lament with her. The dead body is carried away. The poisoner wooes the Queen with gifts, she seems loth and unwilling a while, but in the end accepts his love. [Exeunt. Oph. What means this, my lord? Ham. Marry this is miching Malicho, that means mischief. Oph. Belike this shew imports the argument of the play?

Ham. We shall know by this fellow: the Players cannot keep counsel, they'll tell all.

Oph. Will he tell us what this Thew meant?

Ham. Ay, or any shew that you'll shew him. "Be not you ashamed to Thew, he'll not shame to tell you what it means. Oph. You are naught, you are naught, I'll mark the play.

Enter Prologue.
For us, and for our tragedy,
Here ftooping to your clemency,

We beg your hearing patiently.
Ham. 'Is this a prologue, or the posie of a ring?
Oph. 'Tis brief, my lord.
Ham. As woman's love.

Enter King and Queen, Players.
King. Full thirty times hath Phoebus' car gone round
Neptune's salt wash, and Tellus' orbed ground;
And thirty dozen moons with borrowed sheen
About the world have time twelve thirties been,
Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands
Unite commutual, in most lacred bands.
V ol. VI.


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Queen. So many journeys may the sun and moon
Make us again count o'er, ere love be done.
But woe is me, you are so sick of late,
So far from cheer and from your former state,
That I distrust you; yet though I distrust,
Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must:
And womens fear and love hold quantity,
'Tis either none, or in extremity;
Now what my love is, proof hath made you know,
And as my love is fix’d, my fear is so.

King. Faith I must leave thee, love, and shortly too:
My operant powers their functions leave to do,
And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
Honour’d, belov’d, and haply one as kind
For husband shalt thou

Queen. Oh confound the rest!
Such love must needs be treason in my breast:
In second husband let me be accurst,
None wed the second, but who kill'd the first.

Ham. Wormwood, wormwood!

Queen. The instances that second marriage move,
Are base respects of thrift, but none of love.
A second time I kill my husband dead,
When second husband kisses me in bed.

King. I do believe you think what now you speak;
But what we do determine, oft we break:
Purpose is but the slave to memory,
Of violent birth, but poor validity :
Which now, like fruits unripe, sticks on the tree,
But fall unshaken, when they mellow be.
Most necessary 'tis that we forget,
To pay our selves what to our selves is debt:

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What to our felves in pafsion we propose,
The passion ending, doth the purpose lose;
The violence of either grief or joy,
Their own enactors with themselves destroy:
Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
Grief joys, joy grieves on flender accident.
This world is not for aye, and 'tis not strange
That ev'n our loves should with our fortunes change.
For ’tis a question left us yet to prove,
Whether love fortune lead, or 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 doch try,
Directly seasons him his enemy.
But orderly to end where I begun,
Our wills and fates do so contrary run,
That our devices still are overthrown,
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.
So think thou wilt no second husband wed,
But die thy thoughts, when thy first lord is dead.

Queen. Nor earth to give me food, nor heaven light,
Sport and repose lock from me, day and night;
Each opposite that blanks the face of joy,.
Meet what I would have well, and it destroy,
Both here, and hence, pursue me lasting strife!
If once a widow, ever I be wife.

Ham. If she should break it now

King. 'Tis deeply sworn; sweet, leave me here a while,
My spirits grow dull, and fair I would beguile
The tedious day with sleep.


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Queen. Sleep rock thy brain,
And never come mischance beetween us twain!

Ham. Madam, how like you this play?
Queen. The lady protests too much, methinks.
Ham. Oh but she'll keep her word.
King. Have you heard the argument, is there no offence in't?

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

King. What do you call the play?

Ham. The Mouse-trap. Marry how? topically. This play is the image of a murther done in Vienna; Gonzago is the duke's name, his wife Baptista ; you shall see anon, 'tis a knavish piece of work; but what o' that? your majesty, and we that have free souls, it touches us not; let the gallid jade winch, our withers are unwrung:

Enter Lucianus. This is one Lucianus, nephew to the King.

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 worse and worse.

Ham. So you must take 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, else no creature seeing :
Thou mixture rank, of midnight-weeds collected,
With Hecate's bane, thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thou natural magick, and dire property,
On wholsome life usurp immediately. [Pours the poison in his ears.



Ham. He poylons him i'ch' 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.
Queen. How fares my lord ?
Pol. Give o'er the play.
King. Give me some light. Away.
All. Lights, lights, lights!

(Exeunt. S CE NE VIII.

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

The hart udgalled play:
For some must watch, whilst some must seep;

So runs the world away. Would not this, Sir, and a forest of feathers, (if the rest of my fortunes turn Türk with me) with two provincial roses on my rayed shooes, get me a fellowship in a cry of Players, Sir ? Hor. Half a share.

Ham. A whole one I.
*For thou dost know, oh Damon dear,

This realm dismantled was
Of Jove himself, and now reigns here

A very very "peacock.
Hor. You might have rim’d.

Ham. Oh good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand pounds. Didst perceive? Hor. Very well, my

Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning?
Hor. I did very well note him.

Enter mrack'd, rac'd. * pajock. This alludes to a Fable of the Birds chusing a King; instead of the Eagle, a Peacock.

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