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Is, the great love the general gender1 bear him:
Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
Work like the spring2 that turneth wood to stone,
Convert his gyves to graces; so that my arrows,
Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind,
Would have reverted to my bow again,
And not where I had aim'd them.

Laer. And so have I a noble father lost;
A sister driven into desperate terms;
Whose worth, if praises may go back again,
Stood challenger on mount of all the age
For her perfections :-But my revenge will come.
King. Break not your sleeps for that: you must
not think,

That we are made of stuff so flat and dull,
That we can let our beard be shook with danger,
And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more:
I lov'd your father, and we love ourself;

And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine,—
How now? what news?

Mess.

Enter a Messenger.

Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: This to your majesty; this to the queen. King. From Hamlet! who brought them? Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say: saw them not; They were given me by Claudio; he receiv'd them Of him that brought them. King. Leave us.

Laertes, you shall hear them:[Exit Messenger. [Reads.] High and mighty, you shall know, am set naked on your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes; when I shall, first asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion my sudden and more strange return. Hamlet.

As did that one; and that, in my regard, Of the unworthiest siege.4

Laer.

What part is that, my lord? King. A very ribband in the cap of youth, Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes The light and careless livery that it wears, Than settled age his sables, and his weeds, Importing health and graveness. -Two months since,

Here was a gentleman of Normandy,

I have seen myself, and serv'd against, the French,
And they can well on horseback: but this gallant
Had witchcraft in't; he grew unto his seat;
And to such wond'rous doing brought his horse,
As he had been incorps'd and demi-natur'd
With the brave beast: so far he topp'd my thought,
That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks,
Come short of what he did.

Laer.

King. A Norman.

Laer.

King.

A Norman, was't?

Upon my life, Lamord. The very same. Laer. I know him well: he is the brooch,5 indeed, And gem of all the nation.

King. He made confession of you; And gave you such a masterly report, For art and exercise in your defence.6 And for your rapier most especial, That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed, If one could match you: the scrimers of their nation, He swore, had neither motion, guard, nor eye, If you oppos'd them: Sir, this report of his Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy, That he could nothing do, but wish and beg Your sudden coming o'er, to play with you. Now, out of this,Laer. What out of this, my lord? King. Laertes, was your father dear to you? Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, face without a heart?

What should this mean? Are all the rest come back?
Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?
Laer. Know you the hand?
King.
'Tis Hamlet's character. Naked,-A
And, in a postscript here, he says, alone:
Can you advise me?

Laer. I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come;
It warms the very sickness in my heart,
That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
Thus diddest thou.

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As how should it be so? how otherwise?Will you be rul'd by me?

Laer.

Ay, my lord;
So you will not o'er-rule me to a peace.
King. To thine own peace. If he be now re-
turn'd,-

As checking at his voyage, and that he means
No more to undertake it,-I will work him
To an exploit, now ripe in my device,
Under the which he shall not choose but fall:
And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe;
But even his mother shall uncharge the practice,
And call it, accident.

Laer.
My lord, I will be rul'd;
The rather, if you could devise it so,
That I might be the organ.

King.
It falls right.
You have been talk'd of since your travel much,
And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality,
Wherein, they say, you shine: your sum of parts
Did not together pluck such envy from him,

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Laer.
Why ask you this?
King. Not that I think, you did not love your
father;

But that I know, love is begun by time;
And that I see, in passages of proof,&
Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
There lives within the very flame of love
A kind of wick, or snuff, that will abate it;
And nothing is at a like goodness still;
For goodness, growing to a pleurisy,
Dies in his own too-much: That we would do,
We should do when we would; for this would
changes,

And hath abatements and delays as many,
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
And then this should is like a spendthrift sigh,
That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o'the ulcer:
Hamlet comes back; What would you undertake,
To show yourself in deed your father's son
More than in words?
Laer.
To cut his throat i'the church.
King. No place, indeed, should murder sanctu;

arize:

Revenge should have no bounds. But, good

Laertes,

Will you do this, keep close within your chamber: Hamlet, return'd, shall know you are come home: We'll put on those shall praise your excellence, And set a double varnish on the fame

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The Frenchman gave you; bring you, in fine, to-I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, gether, But that this folly drowns it.

generous,

And wager o'er your heads: he, being remiss,
Most
and free from all contriving,
Will not peruse the foils; so that, with ease,
Or with adittle shuffling, you may choose
A sword unbated, and, in a pass of practice,2
Requite him for your father.

Laer.

I will do't: And, for the purpose, I'll anoint my sword. I bought an unction of a mountebank, So mortal, that but dip a knife in it, Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, Collected from all simples that have virtue Under the moon, can save the thing from death, That is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point With this contagion; that, if I gall him slightly, It may be death.

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"Twere better not assay'd: therefore this project
Should have a back, or second, that might hold,
If this should blast in proof 3 Soft,-let me see :-
We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings,4-
I ha't:

When in your motion you are hot and dry,
(As make your bouts more violent to that end,)
And that he calls for drink, I'll have preferr'd him
A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping,
If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck.?
Our purpose may hold there. But stay, what noise?
Enter Queen.

How now, sweet queen?

Queen. One wo doth tread upon another's heel, So fast they follow:- Your sister's drown'd, Laertes. Laer. Drown'd! O, where?

Queen. There is a willow grows ascaunt the brook,

That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
Therewith fantastic garlands did she make
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,
That liberal9 shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call
them:

There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies, and herself,
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread
wide;

And, mermaid-like, a while they bore her up:
Which time, she chanted snatches of old tunes;
As one incapable10 of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indu'd

Unto that element: but long it could not be,
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.
Laer.

Alas then, she is drown'd?
Queen. Drown'd, drown'd.

Laer. Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my tears: But yet It is our trick; nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will: when these are gone, The woman will be out.11-Adieu, my lord!

(1) Not blunted as foils are. (2) Exercise. (3) As fire-arms sometimes burst in proving their strength. (4) Skill. (5) Presented. (6) A cup for the purpose.

(7) Thrust.

[Exit.

King. Let's follow, Gertrude : How much I had to do to calm his rage! Now fear I, this will give it start again; Therefore, let's follow.

ACT V.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I-A churchyard. Enter two Clowns, with spades, &c.

1 Clo. Is she to be buried in Christian burial, that wilfully seeks her own salvation?

2 Clo. I tell thee, she is; therefore make her grave straight:12 the crowner hath set on her, and finds it Christian burial.

1 Clo. How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defence?

2 Clo. Why, 'tis found so.

1 Clo. It must be se offendendo; it cannot be else. For here lies the point: If I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act: and an act hath three branches; it is, to act, to do, and to perform: Argal, she drowned herself wittingly.

2 Clo. Nay, but hear you, goodman delver.

1 Clo. Give me leave. Here lies the water; good: here stands the man; good: if the man go to this water, and drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he goes; mark you that: but if the water come to him, and drown him, he drowns not himself: Argal, he, that is not guilty of his own death, shortens not his own life.

2 Clo. But is this law?

1 Clo. Ay, marry is't: crowner's-quest law.

2 Clo. Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out of Christian burial.

1 Clo. Why, there thou say'st: And the more pity; that great folks shall have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves, more than their even13 Christian Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profession. 2 Clo. Was he a gentleman?

1 Clo. He was the first that ever bore arms. 2 Clo. Why, he had none.

1 Clo. What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the scripture? The scripture says, Adam digged; Could he dig without arms? I'll put another question to thee: if thou answerest me not to the purpose, confess thyself

2 Clo. Go to.

1 Clo. What is he, that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? 2 Clo. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.

1 Clo. I like thy wit well, in good faith; the gallows does well: But how does it well? it does well to those that do ill: now thou dost ill, to say, the gallows is built stronger than the church; argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again; come. 2 Clo. Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a carpenter?

I Clo. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.14
2 Clo. Marry, now I can tell.
1 Clo. To't.

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2 Clo. Mass, I cannot tell.

Enter Hamlet and Horatio, at a distance. 1 Clo. Cudgel thy brains no more about it; for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating: and, when you are asked this question next, say, a grave-maker; the houses that he makes, last till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan, and fetch me a stoup of liquor. [Exit 2 Clown.

1 Clown digs, and sings.

In youth, when I did love, did love,1
Methought, it was very sweet,

To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove,
O, methought, there was nothing meet.
Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business?
he sings at grave-making.

Hor. Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.

Ham. 'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.

1 Clo. But age, with his stealing steps,

Hath claw'd me in his clutch,
And hath shipped me into the land,
As if I had never been such.

Hor. Not a jot more, my lord.

Ham. Is not parchment made of sheep-skins?
Hor. Ay, my lord, and of calves-skins too.
Ham. They are sheep, and calves, which seek
out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow:
-Whose grave's this, sirrah?
1 Clo. Mine, sir.—

O, a pit of clay for to be made
For such a guest is meet.

[Sings.

Ham. I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.

1 Clo. You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not yours: for my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine.

Ham. Thou dost lie in't, to be in't, and say it is thine: 'tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest.

1 Clo. 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again, from me to you.

Ham. What man dost thou dig it for?
1 Clo. For no man, sir.

Ham. What woman then?

1 Clo. For none neither.

Ham. Who is to be buried in't?

1 Clo. One, that was a woman, sir; but, rest her

[Throws up a scull.soul, she's dead. Ham. That scull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: How the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! This might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent God, might it not?

Hor. It might, my lord.

Ham. Or of a courtier; which would say, Goodmorrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord? This might be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not?

Hor. Ay, my lord.

;

Ham. Why, e'en so: and now my lady Worms chapless, and knocked about the mazzard with a sexton's spade: Here's fine revolution, an we had the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at loggats2 with them? mine ache to think on't.

1 Clo. A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade, [Sings. For-and a shrouding sheet:

Ham. How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us. By the lord, Horatio, these three years I have taken note of it; the age is grown so picked,? that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe.-How long hast thou been a grave-maker?

1 Clo. Of all the days i'the year, I came to't that day that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras. Ham. How long's that since?

1. Clo. Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: It was that very day that young Hamlet was born: he that is mad, and sent into England.

Ham. Ay, marry, why was he sent into England? 1 Clo. Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits there; or, if he do not, 'tis no great matter there.

Ham. Why?

1 Clo. 'Twill not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.

Ham. How came he mad?

1 Clo. Very strangely, they say.
Ham. How strangely?

1 Clo. 'Faith, e'en with losing his wits.
Ham. Upon what ground?

1 Clo. Why, here in Denmark; I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years.

Ham. How long will a man lie i'the earth ere he rot?

O, a pit of clay for to be made For such a guest is meet. [Throws up a scull. Ham. There's another: Why may not that be the scull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddits now, his quillets,4 his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconces with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery? Humph! This fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries: Is this the fine of his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch 1 Clo. Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his him no more of his purchases, and double ones trade, that he will keep out water a great while; too, than the length and breadth of a pair of in-and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson dentures? The very conveyances of his lands will dead body. Here's a scull now hath lain you i'the hardly lie in this box; and must the inheritor him-earth three-and-twenty years. self have no more? ha?

(1) The song entire is printed in Percy's Reliques of ancient English Poetry, vol. i. It was written by Lord Vaux.

(2) An ancient game, played as quoits are at present.

1 Clo. 'Faith, if he be not rotten before he die (as we have many pocky corses now-a-days, that will scarce hold the laying in,) he will last you some eight year, or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year.

Ham. Why he more than another?

Ham. Whose was it?

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1 Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! he poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same scull, sir, was Yorick's scull, the king's jester. Ham. This?

1 Clo. E'en that.

[Takes the scull. Ham. Alas! poor Yorick!-I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest; of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips, that I have kiss'd I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that. Pr'ythee, Horatio, tell me one thing. Hor. What's that, my lord?

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We should profane the service of the dead,
To sing a requiem,9 and such rest to her
As to peace-parted souls.

Laer.

Lay her i'the earth;—
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh,
May violets spring!--I tell thee, churlish priest,
A minist'ring angel shall my sister be,
When thou liest howling.

Ham.
What, the fair Ophelia !
Queen. Sweets to the sweet: Farewell!
[Scattering flowers.
I hop'd, thou should'st have been my Hamlet's wife;
I thought, thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,
And not have strew'd thy grave.
Laer.
O, treble wo
Fall ten times treble on that cursed head,
Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
Depriv'd thee of!-Hold off the earth a while,

Ham. Dost thou think, Alexander looked o'this Till I have caught her once more in mine arms : fashion i'the earth?

Hor. E'en so.

Ham. And smelt so? pah!

[Throws down the scull.

Hor. E'en so, my lord. Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole? Hor. 'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.

Ham. No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: As thus; Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make loam : And why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel?

Imperious2 Cæsar, dead, and turn'd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:
O, that the earth, which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw !3
But soft! but soft! aside :-Here comes the king.
Enter Priest, &c. in procession; the corpse of
Ophelia, Laertes and Mourners following;
King, Queen, their trains, &c.

The queen, the courtiers: Who is this they follow?
And with such maimed rites !4 This doth betoken,
The corse, they follow, did with desperate hand
Fordo5 its own life. 'Twas of some estate :6
Couch we a while, and mark.

[Retiring with Horatio.
Laer. What ceremony else?
Ham.

A very noble youth: Mark.

Laer. What ceremony else?

That is Laertes,

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[Leaps into the grave. Now pile your dust upon the quick 10 and dead;

Till of this flat a mountain you have made
To o'er-top old Pelion, or the skyish head
Of blue Olympus.

Ham. [Advancing.] What is he, whose grief
Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow
Conjures the wand'ring stars, and makes them
stand

Like wonder-wounded hearers? this is I,
Hamlet the Dane.
Laer.

[Leaps into the grave.
The devil take thy soul!
[Grappling with him,

Ham. Thou pray'st not well,

I pr'ythee, take thy fingers from my throat;
For, though I am not splenetive and rash,
Yet have I in me something dangerous,
Which let thy wisdom fear: Hold off thy hand.
King. Pluck them asunder.
Queen.

All. Gentlemen,-
Hor.

Hamlet, Hamlet!

Good my lord, be quiet.

[The Attendants part them, and they come
out of the grave.

Until my eyelids will no longer wag.
Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme,

Queen. O my son! what theme?

Ham. I lov'd Ophelia; forty thousand brothers
Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Make up my sum.-What wilt thou do for her?
King. C, he is mad, Laertes.

Queen. For love of God, forbear him.
Ham. 'Zounds, show me what thou'lt do:
Woul't weep? woul't fight? woul't fast? woul't
tear thyself?

Woul't drink up Esil?! eat a crocodile?
I'll do't.-Dost thou come here to whine?
To outface me with leaping in her grave?
Be buried quick with her, and so will I :
And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
Millions of acres on us; till our ground,
Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
I'll rant as well as thou.
Queen.

(9) A mass for the dead.

This is mere madness:

(10) Living.

(11) Eisel is vinegar; but Mr. Steevens conjectures the word should be Weisel, a river which falls into the Baltic ocean,

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Hear you, sir;
What is the reason that you use me thus ?
I lov'd you ever: But it is no matter;
Let Hercules himself do what he may,
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.

[Exit.

King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon
him.-
[Exit Horatio.
Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech;
[To Laertes.

We'll put the matter to the present push.-
Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.—
This grave shall have a living monument:
An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;
Till then, in patience our proceeding be. [Exeunt.
SCENE II-A hall in the castle.

let and Horatio.

Enter Ham

As England was his faithful tributary;
As love between them, like the palm, might flourish
As peace should still her wheaten garland wear,
And stand a comma10 'tween their amities;
And many such like as's of great charge,-
That, on the view and knowing of these contents,
Without debatement further, more or less,
He should the bearers put to sudden death,
Not shriving-time allow'd.

Hor.

How was this seal'd?
Ham. Why, even in that was heaven ordinant;
I had my father's signet in my purse,
Which was the model of that Danish seal :
Folded the writ up in form of the other;
Subscrib'd it; gave't the impression; plac'd it safely,
The changeling never known: Now, the next day
Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequentis
Thou know'st already.

Hor. So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't.
Ham. Why, man, they did make love to this
employment;

They are not near my conscience; their defeat

Ham. So much for this, sir: now shall you see Does by their own insinuation grow:

the other;

You do remember all the circumstance?

Hor. Remember it, my lord!

Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of
fighting,

That would not let me sleep: methought, I lay
Worse than the mutines2 in the bilboes.3 Rashly,
And prais'd be rashness for it,-Let us know,
Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,
When our deep plots do pall :4 and that should||
teach us,

There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will.
Hor.

'Tis dangerous, when the baser nature comes
Between the pass and fell incensed points
Of mighty opposites.

Hor.
Why, what a king is this!
Ham. Does it not, think thee, stand me now

upon?

He that hath kill'd my king, and whor'd my mother ;
Popp'd in between the election and my hopes;
Thrown out his angle for my proper life,
And with such cozenage; is't not perfect conscience,
To quit4 him with this arm? and is't not to be
damn'd,

To let this canker of our nature come

That is most certain. In further evil?

Ham. Up from my cabin,
My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark
Grop'd I to find out them: had my desire;
Finger'd their packet; and, in fine, withdrew
To mine own room again: making so bold,
My fears forgetting manners, to unseal
Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,
A royal knavery; an exact command,-
Larded5 with many several sorts of reasons,
Importing Denmark's health, and England's too,
With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life,-
That, on the supervise, no leisure bated,
No, not to stay the grinding of the axe,
My head should be struck off.

Hor.

Is't possible?

Ham. Here's the commission; read it at more leisure.

But wilt thou hear now how I did proceed?

Hor. Ay, 'beseech you.

Ham. Being thus benetted round with villanies,
Or I could make a prologue to my brains,
They had begun the play :-I sat me down;
Devis'd a new commission; wrote it fair :
I once did hold it, as our statists9 do,

A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much
How to forget that learning; but, sir, now
It did me yeoman's service: Wilt thou know
The effect of what I wrote?

Hor.
Ay, good my lord.
Ham. An earnest conjuration from the king,-

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Hor. It must be shortly known to him from
England,

What is the issue of the business there.

Ham. It will be short: the interim is mine;
And a man's life no more than to say, one.
But I am very sorry, good Horatio,
That to Laertes I forgot myself;
For by the image of my cause, I see
The portraiture of his: I'll count15 his favours:
But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me
Into a towering passion.
Hor.

Peace; who comes here?
Enter Osric.

Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.

Ham. I humbly thank you, sir.-Dost know this water-fly ?16

Hor. No, my good lord.

Ham. Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a vice to know him: He hath much land, and fertile : let a beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the king's mess: 'Tis a chough;17 but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt.

Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should impart a thing to you from his majesty. Ham. I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of spirit: Your bonnet to his right use; 'tis for the head. Osr. I thank your lordship, 'tis very hot. Ham. No, believe me, tis very cold; the wind is northerly.

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