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And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
Honour'd, belov'd,—and, haply, one as kind
For husband shalt thou-

Actress. O, confound the rest!

Such love must needs be treason in my breast:
In second husband let me be accurst!

None wed the second, but who kill'd the first.

Ham. That's wormwood.

1 Act. I do believe, you think what now you speak; But, what we do determine, oft we break. What to ourselves in passion we propose, The passion ending, doth the purpose lose: So think thou wilt no second husband wed; But die thy thoughts, when thy first lord is dead. Actress. Nor earth to me give food, nor Heaven


Sport and repose lock from me, day, and night,
Both here, and hence, pursue me lasting strife,
If, once a widow, ever I be wife!

1 Act. 'Tis deeply sworn.

Ham. If she should break it now,-
1 Act. Sweet, leave me here awhile;
My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
The tedious day with sleep.

[He sits down, and sleeps. Actress. Sleep rock thy brain; And never come mischance between us twain !


Ham. Madam, how like you this play?
Queen. The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
Ham. O, but she'll keep her word.

King. Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in't?

Ham. No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest ; no offence i'the world.

King. What do you call the play?

Ham. The mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically.

This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna : Gonzago is the duke's name; his wife, Baptista. You shall see anon, 'tis a knavish piece of work: But what of that? Your majesty, and we that have free souls, it touches us not: Let the gall'd jade wince, our withers are unwrung.


This is one Lucianus, nephew to the duke. Oph. You are as good as a chorus, my lord. Ham. I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see the puppets dallying. Begin, murderer, leave thy damnable faces, and begin :

Come: The croaking raven

Doth bellow for revenge.

2 Act. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;

Confederate season, else no creature seeing ;
Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
With Hecat's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thy nature magic, and dire property,
On wholesome life usurp immediately.

[Pours the Poison into his Ear.-Exit. Ham. He poisons him i' the garden for his estate. His name's Gonzago; the story is extant, and written in very choice Italian: You shall see anon, how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife. King. Give me some light:-away! Pol. Lights, lights, lights!

[Exeunt all but HAMLET and HORATIO.
Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep,
The hart ungalled play;

For some must watch, while some must sleep;
Thus runs the world away.-

O, good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for à thousand pound. Didst perceive?

Hor. Very well, my lord.
Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning,-
Hor. I did very well note him.

Ham. Ah, ha!-Come, some music; come, the




Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with


Ham. Sir, a whole history.

Guil. The king, sir

Ham. Ay, sir, what of him?
Guil. Is, in his retirement, marvellous distemper'd.
Ham. With drink, sir?

Guil. No, my lord, with choler.

Ham. Your wisdom should show itself richer, to signify this to the 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 commandment: if not, your pardon, and my return, shall be the end my business.


Ham. Sir, I cannot.
Guil. What, my lord?


Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my diseased: 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, you say

Ros. Then, thus she says: Your behaviour hath struck her into amazement and admiration.

Ham. O wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother! But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? impart.

Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you go to bed.

Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any further trade with us?

Ros. My lord, you did once love me.

Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers. Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do, surely, bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend.

Ham. Sir, I lack advancement.

Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice of the king himself for your succession in Denmark? Ham. Ay, sir; but, "While the grass grows―" The proverb is something musty.

Enter HORATIO, and two MUSICIANS, with Recorders. O, the recorders, let me see one. [Takes a Recorder.] So, withdraw with you.

[Exeunt HORATIO and MUSICIANS. Why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toil?

Guil. O, 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 you.

Ros. I know no touch of it, my lord.

Ham. 'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with your fingers and thumb, give it breath with your

mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. 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 a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass: and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sdeath, do you think 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, that's almost in shape of a camel?

Pol. By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed.

Ham. Methinks, it is like a weasel.

Pol. It is back'd like a weasel.

Ham. Or, like a whale?

Pol. Very like a whale.

Ham. Then will I come to my mother by and by. -They fool me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by.

Pol. I will say so.

Ham. By and by is easily said.

Leave me, friends.


[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and Guildenstern. 'Tis now the very witching time of night; When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes


Contagion to this world: Now could I drink hot blood,

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