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Stoops to his Base, and with a hideous crash
Takes Prisoner Pyrrhus Ear. For lo, his Sword,
Which was declining on the milky Head
Of Reverend Priam, feem'd i'th Air to stick :
So as a Tyrant Pyrrhus stood,
And like a Neutral to his Will and Matter,
But as we often fee against some Storm,
A Silence in the Heav'ns, the Rack stand still,
The bold winds speechless, and the Orb below
As hulh as Death : Anon the dreadful Thunder
Doth rend the Region. So after Pyrrhus pawse,
A rowsed Vengeance sets him new a work,
And never did the Cyclops Hammers fall:
On Mars his Armours, forg'd for proof Eterne,
With less Remorse than Pyrrhus bleeding Sword
Now falls on Priam.
Out, out, thou Strumpet-Fortune ! all you Gods,
In general Synod take away her Power :
Break all the Spokes and Fellies from her Wheel,
And bowl the round Nave down the Hill of Heay'n,
As low as to the Fiends.
Pol. This is too long.
Ham. It shall to th’ Barbers with yoar Beard. Prethee say on; he's for a Jigg, or a tale of Bawdry, or he feeps. Say on; come to Hecuba.
i Play. But who, who, had seen the Mobled Queen?
Ham. The Mobled Queen?
Pol. That's good; Mobled Queen, is good.
1 Play. Run bare-foot up and down, threatning the Flame
With Bisson Rheum; a Clout about that Head,
Where late the Diadem stood, and for a Robe
About her lank and all o'er-teamed Loyns,
A Blanket in th’alarum of fear caught up.
Who this had seen, with Tongue in Venom steep'd,
'Gainst Fortune's State, would Treason have pronounc'd?
But if the Gods themselves did see her then,
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
In mincing with his Sword her Husband's Limbs ;
The instant Burst of Clamour that she made,
(Unless things mortal move them not all)
Would have made Milch the burning Eyes of Heav'n,
And Pallion in the Gods.
Pol. Look where he has not turn'd his Colour, and has Tears in's Eyes. Pray you no more,
Ham. 'Tis well, i'll have thee fpeak out the rest foon. Good my Lord, will you see the Players well bestow'd. Do ye hear, let them be well us’d; for they are the abftra&s, and brief Chronicles of the time. After
you were better have a bad Epitaph, than their ill Report while
Pol. My Lord, I will use them according to their Des fert.
Ham. Gods bodikins Man, better. Use every Man after his Desert, and who should scape whipping; use them after your own Honour and Dignity. The less they deserve, the more Merit is in your Bounty. Take them in. Pol. Come, Sirs.
[Exit Polonius. Ham. Follow him, Friends: We'll hear a Play to morrow. Dost thou hear me, old Friend, can you play the Murther of Gonzago ?
Play. Ay, my Lord.
Ham. We'll ha't to morrow Night. You could for a need Itudy a speech of fome dozen or fixteen Lines, which I would let down, and insert in't? Could ye not?
Play. Ay, my Lord.
Ham. Very well. Follow that Lord, and look you mock him not. My good Friends, I'll leave you 'till Night, you are welcome to Ellinoor. Ros. Good my Lord,
[Excunt. Manet Hamlet. Ham. Ay so, good b'w'ye: Now I am alone. O what a Rogue and Peasant Slave am I! Is it not monstrous that this Player here, But in a Fiction, in a Dream of Passion, Could force his Soul fo to his whole Conceit, That from her working, all his Visage warm’d; Tears in his Eyes, distra&tion in's afpe&, A broken Voice, and his whole Function suiting With Formss to his Conceit? and all for nothing? For Hecuba ? What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weep for her ? what would he do,
Had he the Motive and the Cue for Pallion
That I have? he would drown the Stage with Tears,
And cleave the general Ear with horrid Speech;
Make mad the Guilty, and appall the Free,
Confound the Ignorant, and amaze indeed,
The very faculty of Eyes and Ears. Yet I,
A dull and muddy metled Rascal, peak
Like John-a-deames, unpregnant of my Cause,
And can say nothing: No, not for a King,
Upon whose Property, and most dear Life,
A damn'd Defeat was made. Am I a Coward ?
Who calls me Villain, breaks my Pate a-cross,
Plucks off my Beard, and blows it in my Face ?
Tweaks me by th’Nose, gives me the lyei'ch Throat,
As deep as to the Lungs? Who does me this?
Ha? Why should I take it for it cannot be,
But I am Pigeon Liver'd, and lack Gall
To make Oppression bitter, or e'er this,
I should have fatred all the Region Kites
With this Slave's Offal. Bloody, bawdy Villain !
Remorseless, Treacherous, Lecherous, kindless Villain!
Oh Vengeance !
Why what an Ass am I? I sure, this is most brave,
That I, the Son of the dear Murthered,
Prompted to my Revenge by Heav'n and Hell,
Muft, like a Whore, unpack my Heart with Words,
And fall a cursing like a very Drab,
A Scullion ---- Fye upon't! Foh! About my Brain.
I have heard, that guilty Creatures sitting at a Play,
Have by the very cunning of the Scene,
Been struck so to the Soul, that presently
They have proclaim'd their Malefactions.
For Murther, though it have no Tongue, will speak
With most miraculous Organ. I'll have these Players,
Play something like the Murther of
Before mine Uncle. I'll observe his looks,
I'll tent him to the Quick ; if he but blench,
I know my Course. The Spirit that I have seen,
May be the Devil, and the Devil hath Power
T'assume a pleasing Shape, yea, and perhaps
Out of my Weakness, and my Melancholy,
As he is very Potent with such Spirits,
Abuses me to damn me. I'll have Grounds
More relative than this: The Play's the thing,
Wherein I'll catch the Conscience of the King.
A C T III. SCENE I.
SCENE The Palace. Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Roseneraus, Guil
denstern and Lords.
ND can you
Grating fo harshly all his Days of quiet,
With turbulent and dangerous Lunacy?
Rof. He does confess he feels himself diftra&ed,
But from what cause he will by no means speak.
Guild. Nor do we find him forward to be founded,
But with a crafty Madness keeps aloof :
When we would bring him on to some Confession
Of his true State.
Queen. Did he receive you well?
Rof. Most like a Gentleman.
Guild. But with much forcing of his disposition.
Rof. Niggard of Question, but of our Demands
Most free in his reply.
Queen. Did you assay him to any pastime?
Rof. Madam, it so fell out, that certain Players
We o'er-took on the way ; of these we told him ;
And there did seem in him a kind of Joy
To hear of it: They are about the Court,
And (as I think) they have already order
This Night to play before him.
Pol. 'Tis most true :
And he beseech'd me to intreat your Majesties
To hear and see the Matter.
King. With all my Heart, and it doth much content me
To hear him so inclin'd. Good Gentlemen,
Give him a further Edge, and drive his purpose on
To these Delights.
Ros. We shall, my Lord.
King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too,
For we have closely fent for Hamlet hither;
That he, as 'twere by accident, may there
Affront Ophelia. Her Father, and my felf, lawful espials
Wili so bestow our selves, that seeing unseen
We may of their Encounter frankly judge,
And gather by him; as he is behaved,
IP't be th' affliction of his Love, or no,
That thus he suffers for:
Queen. I shall obey, you:
And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish
That your good Beauties be the happy cause
of Hamlet's wildness. So shall I hope your Virtues
Will bring him to his wonted way again;
To both your Honours.
Oph. Madam, I wilh it may.
Pol. Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious, so please ye.
We will bestow our selves: Read on this Book,
That Thew of such an exercise may colour
Your loneliness. We are oft to blame in this,
'Tis too much prov'd, that with Devotion's visage;
And pious A&ion, we do suger o'er
The Devil himself.
King. Ok 'tis too true ;
How smart a lath that Speech doth givemy Conscience?
The Harlot's Cheek beautied with plastring Art
Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it,
Than is my Deed to my most painted word.
Oh heavy burthen!
Pol. I hear him coming, let's withdraw, my Lord.
[Exeunt all but Opheliai
Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the Question:
'Whether, 'tis nobler in the Mind, to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outragious Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of Troubles,
And by oppofing end them. To dye; to sleep
No more; and by a sleep, to say we end
The Heart-achę, and the thousand natural Shocks
That Flesh is Heir to; 'tis à Confummation