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Hor. You might have rhym'd.
Ham. Oh, good Horatio, I'll take the Ghoft's word for a thousand pounds. Didit perceive?
Hor. Very well, my Lord.
Enter Rosincrantz and Guildenstern.
Ham. Oh, ha! come, some mufick: Come, the re
Guil. Good my Lord, vouchsafe me a word with you,
Ham. Your wisdom should shew itself more rich, to fignify this to his Doctor : for, 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 start not so wildly from my affair.
Ham. I am tame, Sir ;-pronounce. Guil. The Queen your mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you.
Ham. You are welcome.
Guil. Nay, good my Lord, this Courtesy is not of the right Breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do your mother's command. ment; if not, your pardon, and my return hall be the end of
business. Ham. Sir, I cannot. Guil. What, my Lord ?
Ham. Make you a wholesome answer: 'my wit's difeasid. But, Sir, such answer as I can make, you shall
command; or, rather, as you say, my mother therefore no more but to the matter
my mother, Rof. Then thus she says; your behaviour hath struck her into amazement, and admiration.
Ham. Oh wonderful fon, that can so astonish a mother! But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration ?
Rof. She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you go to bed,
Ham. We shall obey, were the ten times our mother, Have you any further trade with us ?
Rof. My Lord, you once did love me,
Rof. Good my Lord, what is your cause of diftemper? you do, surely, bar the door of your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend.
Ham. Sir, I lack advancement.
Rof. How can that be, when you have the voice of the King himself, for your succession in Denmark?
Ham. Ay, but while the grass grows-the Proverb is something musty.
Enter ore, with a Recorder,
Oh, the Recorders ; let me fee one. To withdraw with you-why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toile ?
Guil. Oh my Lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly.
Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe? Guil. My Lord, I cannot. Ham. I pray you. Guil. Believe me, I cannot. Ham. I do beseech Guil. I know no touch of it, my Lord. Ham. 'Tis as easy as lying; govern these ventiges with your fingers and thumb, give it breath with your
mouth, and it will discourse moft eloquent musick. 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 à 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 mystery: you would found me from my lowest note, to the top of my compass; and there is much mu. fick, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it fpeak. Why, do you think, that I am easier to be play'd on than a pipe ? call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Pol. My Lord, the Queen would speak with you, and presently: :
Ham. Do you see yonder cloud, that's almost in shape of a Camel?
Pol. By the mass, and it's like a Camel, indeed.
Ham. Then will I come to my mother by and bythey fool me to the top of my hent. I will come by and by.
Pol. I will say fo.
Let me be cruel, not unnatural;
Enter King, Rosincrantz, and Guildenstern.
Guild. We will provide ourselves;
Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound,
(21) The Terms of our Efate may not endure
Hazard so near us, as doth bourly grow
Guil. We will provide ourselves.
--- as doth bourly grow
Out of bis Lunes.
These dangerous, unsafe Lunes i' tb'King !- abeshrew 'SIR,
To whose huge spokes ten thousand leffer things
King. Arm. you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage;
Pol. My Lord, he's going to his mother's closet; Behind the arras I'll convey myself To hear the process. I'll warrant, she'll tax him home. And, as you laid, and wisely
was it said, 'Tis meet, that some more audience than a mother (Since nature makes them partial,) should o'er-hear The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my Liege; I'll call upon you ere you go to bed, And tell
(22) It baih the primal, eldest, Curse upon't : A brother's Murderaan Pray I cannot,] The last Verse, 'tis evident, halts in the Meafure; and, if I don't miftake, is a little lame in the Sense too. Was a brother's Murder the eldest Curse? Surely, it was rather the Crime, that was the Cause of this eldest Curse. We have no Assistance, however, either to the Sense or Numbers, from any of the Copies. I have ventur'd at two Supplemental SylJables, as innocent in themselves as necessary to the Purposes for which they are introduc'd: That of a brother's Murder,