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Ham. Excellent yfaith.
Of the camelions dish, I eate the ayre,
Promif-cram’d, you cannot feede capons so.
King. I haue nothing with this aunswer Hamlet,
These words are not mine.
Ham. No, nor mine now my lord. You playd once i'th vniuersity you say,
Pol. That did I my lord, and was accounted a good actor. Ham. What did you enact?
Pol. I did enact Iulius Cæfar, I was kild i’th capitall, Brutus kild me. Ham. It was a brute part of him to kill fo capitall a calf
Be the players ready?
Rof. I my lord, they stay vpon your patience.
Ger. Come hether my deare Hamlet, fit by me.
Ham. No good mother heere's mettle more attractiue.
Pol. O, oh*, doe you marke that.
Ham. Lady shall I lie in your lap?
Ophe. No my lord. .
Ham. Doe you thinke I meant country matters?
Ophe. I thinke nothing my lord.
Ham That's a faire thought to lye betweene maydes legs.
Ophe. What is my lord ?
Ophe. You are merry my lord.
Ham. Who I?
Oph. I my lord.
Ham. O God! your onely iigge-maker, what should a man do but be merry, for looke you how cheerfully my mother lookes, and my father died within's two howres.
Ophe. Nay, tis twice two months my lord.
Ham. So long, nay then let the diuell weare blacke, for Ile haue a fute of fables ; O heauens, die two months ago, and
not forgotten yet, then there's hope a great mans memory may out-liue his life halfe a yeare, but ber lady a muft build churches then, or else shall a suffer not thinking on, with the
bby-horse, whose epitaph is, for O, for O, the hobbyhorse is forgot.
The trumpets found. Dumbe show followes. Enter a king and a queene, the queene embracing him, and he
her, he takes her up, and declines his head vppon her necke, he lies him downe vppon a bancke of flowers, Joe seeing him a seebe, leaues him : anon comes in an other man, takes off his crowne, kisses it, pours payson in the sleepers eares, and leaues him : the queene returnes, finds the king dead, makes pasionate action, the poyfoner with some three or foure comes in againe, seeme to condole with her, the dead body is carried away, the poisoner woes the queene with gifts, she seemes harsh awile, but in the end accepts loue.
Oph. What meanes this my
lord ? Ham. Marry, tis munching Mallico, it meanes mischiefe. Oph. Belike this show imports the argument of the play.
Enter Prologue. Ham. We shall know by this fellow, The players cannot keepe they'le tell all.
Ophe. Will a tell us what this show meant ?
Ham. I or any show that you will show him, be not you alham'd to show heele not shame to tell you what it meanes.
Oph. You are naught, you are naught, Ile marke the play.
Prologue. For vs and for our tragedie,
Heere stooping to your clemencie,
We begge your hearing patiently.
Ham. Is this a prologue or the posie of a ring?
Ophe. Tis breefe my lord.
Ham. As womans loue,
King. Full thirty times hath Phoebus cart gone round
Neptunes falt wash, and Tellus orb'd the ground,
And thirty dosen moones with borrowed sheene
About the world haue times twelue thirties beene,
Since loue our hearts, and Hymen did our hands
Vnite comutuall in most facred bands.
Quee. So many iourneyes may the sunne and moone
Make vs againe count ore ere loue bee doone,
But woe is me you are so ficke of late,
So farre from cheere, and from your * former state,
That I distrust you, yet though I distrust,
Discomfort you my lord it nothing must.
For women feare too much, euen as they loue,
And womens feare and loue hold quantity,
Either none, in neither ought, or in extremity,
Now what my lord is proofe hath made you know,
And as my loue is ciz'st, my feare is so,
Where loue is great, the litlest doubts are feare,
Where little feares grow great, great loue growes there.
King. Faith I must leaue thee loue, and shortly to,
My operant powers their functions leaue to do,
And thou shalt liuc in this fare world behind,
Honord, belou'd, and haply one as kind,
For husband shalt thou.
Quee. O confound the rest.
Such loue must needes be treason in my brest,
In fecond husband let me be accurst,
None wed the second, but who kild the first.
Ham. That's wormwood.
The instances that second marriage moue
Are base respects of thrift, but none of loue,
A second time I kill my husband dead,
When second husband kisses me in bed.
King. I doe beleeue you thinke what now you speake,
But what we doe determine, oft we breake,
Purpose is but the Naue to memory,
Of violent birth, but poore validity,
Which now the fruite vnripe sticks on the tree,
But fall vnsnaken when they mellow bee.
Most necessary tis that we forget
To pay ourselues what to ourselues is debt,
What to ourselues in passion we propose,
The passion ending, doth the purpose lofe,
The violence of either, ġriefe, or ioy,
Their owne ennactures with themselues destroy,
Where ioy most reuels, griefe doth most lament,
Greefe ioy, ioy griefes, on slender accedent,
This world is not for aye, nor tis not strange,
That euen our loues Nould with our fortunes change,
For tis a question left vs yet to proue,
Whether loue lead fortune, or else fortune loue.
The great man downe, you marke his fauourite flies,
The poore aduanced makes friends of enemies,
And hethertoo doth loue on fortune tend,
For who not needs, shall neuer lacke a friend,
And who in want a hollow friend doth try,
Directly seasons him his enemie.
But orderly to end where I begunne,
Our willes and fates doe lo contrary runile,
That our deuices still are ouerthrowne,
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our owne,
So thinke thou wilt no second husband wed,
But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.
Quce. Nor earth to me giue foode, nor heauen light,
Sport and repose lock from mee day, and night,
To desperațion turne my trust and hope,
And anchors cheere in prison be my scope,
Each opposite that blanckes the face of ioy,
Meete what I would haue well, and it destroy,
Both heere and hence pursue me lasting strife,
If once I bee a widdow, euer I be a wife.
Ham. If the should breake it now.
King. Tis deepely sworne, sweet leaue mee heare a while, My spirits grow dull and faine I would beguyle The tedious day with fleepe.
Quec. Sleepe rock thy braine,
And neuer come milchance betwixt vs twane. Exeunt.
Ham. Maddam, how like you this play?
Quee. The lady doth protest too much me thinkes.
Ham. O but shee'le keepe her word.
King. Haue you heard the argument ? is there no offence
in't ? Ham, No, no, they do but iest, poyson in iest, no offence
i th world. King. What do you call the play?
Ham. The Mousetrap, mary how tropically, this play is the image of a murther done in Vienna, Gonzago is the dukes name, his wife Baptista, you shall fee anone, tis a knauith peece of worke, but what of that? your maiefty and we lball* haue free foules, it touches vs not, let the gauled iade winch, our withers are vnwrung. This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king.
Oph. You are as good as a chorus my lord.
Ham. I could interpret betweene you and your louo
If I could see the puppits dallying.