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I embrace it freely;
Come, one for me.
You mock me, sir
King. Give them the foils, young Osric.—Cousin Hamlet,
Very well, my lord;
King. I do not fear it: I have seen you both :-
Laer. This is too heavy, let me see another.
[They prepare to play Osr. Ay, my good lord.
King. Set me the stoups of wine upon that table -..
Ham. Come on, sir,
[They play. Ham.
[Trumpets sound; and cannon shot off within. Ham. I'll play this bout first, set it by awhile. Come. Another hit; What say you ?
[ They play. Laer. A touch, a touch, I do confess. King. Our son shall win. Queen. The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet. Ham. Good madam, King
Gertrude, do not drink.
Queen. I will, my lord ;-) pray you, pardon me.
I'll hit him now;
[Aside. Ham. Come, for the third, Laertes : You do but dally; I
pray you, pass with your best violence; I am afeard, you make a wanton of me. Laer. Say you so ? come on.
[They play. (LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then, in scuffling, they
change rapiers, and Hamlet wounds LAERTES.
Part them, they are incens'd. Ham. Nay, come again.
[The QUEEN falls. Osr.
Look to the queen there, ho! Hor. They bleed on both sides :—How is it, my lord ? Osr. How is't, Laertes ?
Laer. Why, as a woodcock to my own springe, Osric;
Ham. How does the queen ?
She swoons to see them bleed.
[Dies. Ham. O villany !-Ho! let the door be lock’d: Treachery! seek it out.
(LAERTES falls. Laer. It is here, Hamlet : Hamlet, thou art slain ; No medicine in the world can do thee good ; In thee there is not half an hour's life; The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, Unbated, and envenom’d: the foul practice Hath turn’d itself on me; lo, here I lie, Never to rise again : Thy mother's poison'd; I can no more; the king, the king's to blame.
Ham. The point
He is justly serv’d;
Never believe it;
I am more an antique Roman than a Dane,
As thou’rt a man,-
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING
VARIOUS sources have be assigned, from which Shakspeare borrowed lo story of his comedy; Orlando Furioso, The Faëry Queen, and a novel of Bandello's, have ach been cited as furnishing the original conception of the plot. It is perhaps of little jonsequence whence the poet drew his materials: the play itself is so full of life and sharacter, so teeming with wit, poetry, and humor, as to render the mere superstructure on which the incidents are founded a matter of no account to the general reader.
ACT I. SCENE I.-Before Leonato's House. Enter LEONATO, HIERO, BEATRICE, and others, with a Messenger.
Leon. I learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina.
Mess. He is very near by this; he was not three leagues off when I left him.
Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action ?
when the achiever brings home full numbers. I find here, that Don Pedro hath bestowed much nonor on a young Florentine, called Claudio.
Mess. Much deserved on his part, and equally remembered by Don Pedro: He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age; doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion: he hath, indeed, better bettered expectation, than you must expect of me to tell you how.
Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it.
Mess. I have already delivered him letters and there appears much joy in him ; even so much, that joy could not show itself modest enough, without a badge of bitterness.
Leon. Did he break out into tears ?
Leon. A kind overflow of kindness : There are no faces truer than those that are so washed. How much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping ?
Beat. I pray you, is signior Montanto returned from the wars, or no ?
Mess. I know none of that name, lady ; there was none such in the army of any sort.
Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece ?
Beat. I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he killed ? for, indeed, I promised to eat all of his killing.
Leon. Faith, niece, you tạx signior Benedick too much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not.
Mess. He hath done guod service, lady, in these wars.
Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it: he is a very valiant trencher-man, ne hath an excellent stomach.
Mess. And a good soldier too, lady. Beat. And a good soldier to a lady ;-But what is he to a lord ? Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuffed with all honorable virtues.
Beat. It is so, indeed : he is no less than a stuffed man: but for the stuffing,-Well, we are all mortal.
Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece: there is a kind of merry war betwixt signior Benedick and her: they never meet, but there is a skirmish of wit beiween them.
Beat. Alas, he gets no:hing by that. In our last conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and +5w is the old man governed with