Enter Rofincroffe and Guildenstern.

Ham. Oh, ha! come fome mufick. Come the recorders.

For if the King like not the comedy;

Why then belike he likes it not perdy.

Come, fome musick.

Guil. Good my lord, vouchfafe me a word with you.

Ham. Sir, a whole hiftory.

Guil. The King, Sir

Ham. Ay Sir, what of him?

Guil. Is in his retirement, marvellous distemper'd ---
Ham. With drink, Sir?

Guil. No, my lord, with choler.

Ham. Your wifdom fhould fhew it felf more rich to fignifie this to his doctor: for me to put him to his purgation, would perhaps plunge him into more choler.

Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and ftart not fo wildly from my affair.

Ham. I am tame, Sir, pronounce.

Guil. The Queen your mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath fent me to you.

Ham. You are welcome.

Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtefie is not of the right breed. If it fhall please you to make me a wholfom answer, I will do your mother's commandment; if not, your pardon, and my return fhall be the end of my business.

Ham. Sir, I cannot.

Guil. What, my lord?

Ham. Make you a wholfom anfwer: my wit's diseas'd. But, Sir, such answers as I can make, you shall command; or rather you fay, my mother therefore no more but to

the matter -- my mother, you say

Rof.

Rof. Then thus fhe fays; your behaviour hath struck her into amazement, and admiration.

Ham. Oh wonderful fon, that can so astonish a mother. But is there no fequel at the heels of this mother-admiration?

Rof. She defires to speak with you in her closet ere you go to bed.

Ham. We fhall obey, were the ten times our mother. Have you any further trade with us?

Rof. My lord, you once did love me.

Ham. So I do still, by these pickers and stealers.

Rof. Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? you do furely bar the door of your own liberty, if you deny your griefs friend.

to your

Ham. Sir, I lack advancement.

Rof. How can that be, when you have the voice of the King himself, for your fucceffion in Denmark?

Ham. Ay, but while the grafs grows ---- the proverb is fomething musty.

Enter one with a Recorder.

Oh the recorders, let me fee one. To withdraw with youwhy do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toil?

Guil. Oh my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly.

Ham. I do not well understand that.

this pipe?

Gail. My lord, I cannot.

Ham. I pray you.

Guil. Believe me, I cannot.

Ham. I do befeech you.

Guil. I know no touch of it, my lord.

Will you play upon

Ham. 'Tis as easie as lying; govern these ventiges with your

fin

fingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will difcourfe most eloquent mufick. Look you, these are the stops. Guil. But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony, I have not the skill.

Ham. Why look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me; you would play upon me, you would feem to know my ftops; you would pluck out the heart of my myftery, you would found me from my lowest note, to the top of my compass; and there is much mufick, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. Why do you think that I am easier to be plaid on than a pipe? call me what inftrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me. God blefs you, Sir.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. My lord, the Queen would speak with you, and presently. Ham. Do you fee yonder cloud, that's almost in shape of a Camel?

Pol. By the mafs, and it's like a Camel indeed.

Ham. Methinks it is like an † Ouzle.

Pol. It is black like an Ouzle.

Ham. Or like a Whale?

Pol. Very like a Whale.

Ham. Then will I come to my mother by and by; me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by. friends. I will fay fo. By and by is easily said. 'Tis now the very witching time of night,

When church-yards yawn,

they fool Leave me

[Exeunt.

and hell it felf breaths out Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood,

Would quake to look on. Soft, now to my mother

Oh heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever

The

An Ouzle or Blackbird: it has been printed by mistake a Weesel, which is not black.

The foul of Nero enter this firm bofom;
Let me be cruel, not unnatural;

I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
My tongue and foul in this be hypocrites!

[Exit.

Enter King, Rofincroffe, and Guildenstern.

King. I like him not, nor ftands it safe with us
To let his madness rage. Therefore prepare you;
I your commiffion will forthwith dispatch,
And he to England shall along with you.
The terms of our estate may not endure
Hazard fo near us, as doth hourly grow
Out of his lunacies.

Guild. We will provide our felves;
Most holy and religious fear it is,
To keep those many bodies fafe, that live
And feed upon your majesty.

Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound
With all the strength and armour of the mind,
To keep it self from noyance; but much more,
That spirit, on whose weal depends and rests
The lives of many. The decease of majesty
Dies not alone, but like a gulf doth draw
What's near it with it. It's a maffy wheel
Fixt on the fummit of the highest mount,
To whofe huge spoaks ten thousand leffer things
Are mortiz'd and adjoin'd; which when it falls,
Each small annexment, petty confequence,

Attends the boiftrous ruin.

4

Ne'er alone

Did the King figh, but with a general groan.

King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage;
VOL. VI.

G gg

• Spirit

For

For we will fetters put upon this fear,
Which now goes too free-footed.

Both. We will hafte us.

Enter Polonius.

[Exeunt Gent.

Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet; Behind the arras I'll convey my self

To hear the process. I'll warrant she'll tax him home.

And as you faid, and wifely was it faid,

'Tis meet that fome more audience than a mother, (Since nature makes them partial,) fhould o'er-hear The speech of vantage.

I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,

Fare you well

my liege,

[Exit.

And tell you what I know.

King. Thanks, dear my lord.

'Oh my offence is rank, it smells to heav'n,
It hath the primal eldest curfe upon't;
A brother's murther. Pray I cannot,
"Though inclination be as sharp as will:
My ftronger guilt defeats my strong intent,
' And like a man to double business bound,
'I ftand in pause where I fhall first begin,
'And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
'Were thicker than it felf with brother's blood?
'Is there not rain enough in the sweet heav'ns
To wash it white as fnow? whereto ferves mercy,
'But to confront the visage of offence?

' And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force,
To be fore-ftalled ere we come to fall,

Or pardon'd being down? then I'll look up. My fault is paft. But oh what form of prayer "Can serve my turn; Forgive me my foul murther! • That cannot be, fince I am ftill possest

'Of