King. Do you think 'tis this?

Queen. It may be very likely.

Pol. Hath there been fuch a time, I'd fain know that, That I have pofitively faid, 'tis fo,

When it prov'd otherwise?

King. Not that I know.

Pol. Take this from this, if this be otherwife,
If Circumftances lead me, I will find

Where Truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
Within the Center.

King. How may we try it further?

Pol. You know sometimes

He walks four hours together, here

In the Lobby.

Queen. So he has indeed.

Pol. At fuch a time I'll loofe my Daughter to him,

Be you and I behind an Arras then,

Mark the Encounter: If he love her not,

And be not from his Reason faln thereon,
Let me be no Affiftant for a State,

And keep a Farm and Carters.

King. We will try it.

Enter Hamlet reading.

Queen. But look where, fadly, the poor Wretch come s

Pol. Away, I do befeech you, both away.

I'll board him prefently.

(Reading.

[Exe. King and Queen.

Oh give me leave. How does my good Lord Hamlet?
Ham. Well, God-a-mercy.

Pol. Do you know me, my Lord?

Ham. Excellent, excellent well; y'are a Fishmonger?
Pol. Not I, my Lord.

Ham. Then I would you were fo honeft a Man.

Pol. Honeft, my Lord?

Ham. Ay, Sir; to be honeft as this World goes, is to be

One pick'd out of two thousand.

Pol. That's very true, my Lord.

Ham. For if the Sun breed Maggots in a dead Dog

Being a good kiffing Carrion

Have you a Daughter?

Pol. I have, my Lord.

Ham. Let her not walk i'th' Sun; Conception is a Blef fing, but not as your Daughter may conceive. Friend, look

to't.

Pol. How fay you by that? Still harping on my Daughter-yet he knew me not at firft; he said I was a Fifh monger; he is far gone, far gone; and truly in my Youth, I fuffered much extremity for Love; very near this. I'll fpeak to him again. What do you read, my Lord?

Ham. Words, words, words.

Pol. What is the Matter, my Lord?

Ham. Between whom?

Pol. I mean the Matter you read, my Lord.

Ham. Slanders, Sir: For the Satyrical Slave fays here, that old Men have gray 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 weak Hams: All which, Sir, though I moft powerfully, and potently believe, yet I hold it not Honefty to have it thus fet down : For you your self, Sir, fhall be as old as I am, if like a Crab you could go

backward.

Pol. Though this be madness, yet there's Method in't: Will you walk out of the Air, my Lord?

Ham. Into my Grave?

Pol. Indeed that is out o'th' Air:

How pregnant (fometimes) his replies are?
A happiness that often Madness hits on,

Which Reason and Sanity could not

So profperoufly be deliver'd of. I will leave him,

And fuddenly contrive the means of meeting

Between him and my Daughter.

My honourable Lord, I will moft humbly

Take my leave of you.

Ham. You cannot, Sir, take from me any thing, that I will more willingly part withal, except my Life, my Life.

Pol. Fare you well, my Lord.

Ham. Thefe tedious old Fools.

Pol. You go to feek my Lord Hamlet; there he is.

Enter

Enter Rofeneraus and Guildenstern.

Rof. God fave you, Sir.

Guild. Mine honour'd Lord!

Rof. My moft dear Lord!

Ham. My excellent good Friends! How doft thou Guildenstern? Oh, Rofeneraus, good Lads! How do ye both?

Rof. As the indifferent Children of the Earth.

Guild. Happy, in that we are not over-happy; on Fortune's Cap, we are not the very Button.

Ham. Nor the Soals of her Shooe?

Rof. Neither, my Lord.

Ham. Then you live about her wafte, or in the middle of her Favour?

Guild. Faith, her privates we.

Ham. In the fecret parts of Fortune? Oh, moft true; she is a Strumpet. What's the News?

Rof. None, my Lord, but that the World's grown Honeft.

Ham. Then is Dooms-day near; but your News is not Let me queftion more in particular: What have you, my good Friends, deferved at the hands of Fortune, that the fends you to Prison hither?

Guild. Prifon, my Lord?

Ham. Denmark's a Prison.
Rof. Then is the World one.

Ham. A goodly one, in which there are many Confines, Wards, and Dungeons; Denmark being one o'th' worst.

Rof. We think not fo, my Lord.

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

Rof. Why then your Ambition makes it one: 'Tis too narrow for your Mind.

Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a Nut-fhell, and count my felf a King of infinite space; were it not that I have bad Dreams.

Guild. Which Dreams indeed are Ambition; for the very fubftance of the ambitious, is meerly the fhadow of a Dream.

Ham. A Dream it felf is but a Shadow.

Rof. Truly, and I hold Ambition of fo airy and light a quality, that it is but a Shadow's Shadow.

Ham. Then are our Beggars Bodies, and our Monarchs, and out-ftretcht Heroes, the Beggars Shadows; fhall we to th' Court? for, by my fey, I cannot reason.

Both. We'll wait upon you.

Ham. No fuch matter. I will not fort you with the reft of my Servants: For, to speak to you like an honeft Man, I am moft dreadfully attended; but in the beaten way of Friendship. What make you at Elfinoor?

Rof. To vifit you, my Lord, no other Occafion.

Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in Thanks; but I thank you; and fure, dear Friends, my Thanks are too dear a half-penny; were you not fent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free Vifitation? Come, deal juftly with me; come, come; nay, fpeak.

Guild. What should we fay, my Lord?

Ham. Why, any thing, but to the Purpose. You were fent for; and there is a kind of Confeffion in your looks, which your Modefties have not craft enough to colour. I know the good King and Queen have fent for you.

Rof. To what end, my Lord?

Ham. That you must teach me; but let me conjure you by the rights of our Fellowship, by the confonancy of our Youth, by the Obligation of our ever-preferved Love, and by what more dear, a better propofer could charge you withal; be even and direct with me, whether you were fent for

or no.

Rof. What fay you? Ham. Nay then I have an Eye of hold not off.

Guild. My Lord, we were sent for.

Ham. I will tell you why; fo fhall my Anticipation prevent your difcovery, and your fecrecy to the King and Queen, moult no Feather: I have of late, but wherefore I know not, loft all my mirth, forgone all cuftom of Exercise ; and indeed, it goes fo heavily with my Difpofition, that this goodly Frame, the Earth, feems to me a steril Promontory; this moft excellent Canopy the Air, look you, this brave p'er-hanging, this Majeftical Roof, fretted with golden

golden Fire, why, it appears no other thing to me, than a foul and peftilent Congregation of Vapours. What a piece of Work is a Man! How Noble in Reafon! how infinite in Faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action, how like an Angel! in apprehenfion how like a God! the Beauty of the World, the Paragon of Animals; and yet to me, what is this Quinteffence of Duft? Man delights not me; no, nor Woman neither, tho' by your fmiling you feem to fay fo.

Rof. My Lord, there was no fuch Stuff in my Thoughts. Ham. Why did you laugh, when I faid, Man delights not me ?

Rof. To think, my Lord, if you delight not in Man, what Lenten Entertainment the Players fhall receive from you; we accofted them on the way, and hither are they coming to offer you Service.

Ham. He that plays the King fhall be welcome; his Majesty shall have Tribute of me; the adventurous Knight fhall ufe his Foyle and Target; the Lover fhall not figh gratis, the humorous Man hall end his part in Peace; the Clown fhall make those Laugh, whofe Lungs are tickl'd ath' fere; and the Lady fhall fay her mind freely; or the blank Verse shall halt for't. What Players are they?

Rof. Even thofe you were wont to take Delight in, the Tragedians of the City.

Ham. How chances it they travel? their refidence both in Reputation and Profit was better, both ways.

Rof, I think their Inhibition comes by the means of the late Innovation ?

Ham, Do they hold the fame Eftimation they did when I was in the City? Are they fo follow'd?

Rof. No indeed, they are not.

Ham. How comes it? do they grow rufty?

Rof. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace; But there is, Sir, an airy of Children, little Yafes, that cry out on the top of Queftion; and are moft tyrannically clapt for't; these are now the Fashion, and fo be-rattle the common Stages (fo they call them) that many wearing Rapiers, are afraid of Goose Quills, and dare fcarce come thither.

Ham.