Ham. Excellent yfaith.

Of the camelions difh, I eate the ayre,
Promif-cram'd, you cannot feede capons fo.

King. I haue nothing with this aunfwer Hamlet,
These words are not mine. . .

Ham. No, nor mine now my lord.

You playd once i'th vniuerfity 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

there.

Be the players ready?

Rof. I my lord, they ftay 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 fhall I lie in your lap?

Ophe. No my lord.

t

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?

Ham. Nothing.

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

#bo.

not

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 elfe fhall a fuffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whofe epitaph is, for O, for O, the hobbyhorfe is forgot.

The trumpets found. Dumbe fbow followes.

Enter a king and a queene, the queene embracing him, and he her, he takes her up, and declines his head uppon her necke, he lies him downe vppon a bancke of flowers, fhe feeing him a fleepe, leaues him: anon comes in an other man, takes off his crowne, kiffes it, pours poyfon in the fleepers eares, and leaues him: the queene returnes, finds the king dead, makes paffionate action, the poyfoner with fome three or foure comes in againe, feeme to condole with her, the dead body is carried away, the poifoner woes the queene with gifts, fhe feemes harfb 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 fhow that you will fhow him, be not you afsham'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 pofie of a ring?

Ophe. Tis breefe my lord.

Ham. As womans loue,

Enter King and Queene.

King. Full thirty times hath Phoebus cart gone round
Neptunes falt wash, and Tellus orb'd the ground,
And thirty dofen moones with borrowed sheene
About the world haue times twelue thirties beene,
Since loue our hearts, and Hymen did our hands
Vnite comutuall in moft facred bands.

Quee. So many iourneyes may the funne and moone
Make vs againe count ore ere loue bee doone,
But woe is me you are fo 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 muft.
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'ft, my feare is fo,

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 fhalt liuc in this fare world behind,

Honord, belou'd, and haply one as kind,
For husband fhalt thou.

Quee. O confound the reft.

Such loue muft needes be treafon in my breft,

In fecond husband let me be accurft,

None wed the fecond, but who kild the firft.

Ham. That's wormwood.

eur

The

The inftances that fecond marriage moue
Are base refpects of thrift, but none of loue,
A fecond time I kill my husband dead,

When fecond husband kisses me in bed.

King. I doe beleeue you thinke what now you fpeake,
But what we doe determine, oft we breake,
Purpose is but the flaue to memory,

Of violent birth, but poore validity,
Which now the fruite vnripe fticks on the tree,
But fall vnfnaken when they mellow bee.
Moft neceffary tis that we forget
To pay ourfelues what to ourfelues is debt,
What to ourfelues in paffion we propose,
The paffion ending, doth the purpose lofe,
The violence of either, griefe, or ioy,
Their owne ennactures with themfelues destroy,
Where ioy moft reuels, griefe doth moft lament,
Greefe ioy, ioy griefes, on flender accedent,
This world is not for aye, nor tis not strange,
That euen our loues fhould with our fortunes change,
For tis a queftion left vs yet to proue,

Whether loue lead fortune, or elfe 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, fhall neuer lacke a friend,
And who in want a hollow friend doth try,
Direally feafons him his enemie.

But orderly to end where I begunne,
Our willes and fates doe fo contrary runie,

That our deuices ftill are ouerthrowne,

Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our owne,
So thinke thou wilt no fecond husband wed,
But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.

Ques

Quce. Nor earth to me giue foode, nor heauen light,
Sport and repofe lock from mee day, and night,
To defperation turne my trust and hope,
And anchors cheere in prifon be my scope,
Each oppofite that blanckes the face of ioy,
Meete what I would haue well, and it destroy,
Both heere and hence purfue me lasting strife,
If once I bee a widdow, euer I be a wife.
Ham. If the should breake it now.

King. Tis deepely fworne, fweet leaue mee heare a while, My fpirits grow dull and faine I would beguyle

The tedious day with fleepe.

Quec. Sleepe rock thy braine,

And neuer come mifchance betwixt vs twane.

Ham. Maddam, how like you this play?

Quee. The lady doth proteft too much me thinkes.

Ham. O but fhee'le keepe her word.

Exeunt.

King. Haue you heard the argument? is there no offence in't?

Ham, No, no, they do but ieft, poyson in iest, no offence i th world.

King. What do you call the play?

Ham. The Moufetrap, mary how tropically, this play is the image of a murther done in Vienna, Gonzago is the dukes name, his wife Baptifta, you fhall fee anone, tis a knauish peece of worke, but what of that? your maiefty and we shall * haue free foules, it touches vs not, let the gauled iade winch, our withers are vnwrung. This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king.

Enter Lucianus.

Oph. You are as good as a chorus my lord.

Ham. I could interpret betweene you and your loue

If I could fee the puppits dallying.