Lar. It well appeares: but tell me
Why you proccede not against these feates,
So criminall and fo capitall in nature,

As by your fafety, greatnes, wifdome, all things els,
You mainly were stirr'd vp.

King. O for two speciall reasons

Which may to you perhaps feeme much vnfinnow'd,
But yet to me tha'r ftrong, the queene his mother
Liues almost by his lookes, and for my felfe,
My vertue or my plague, be it either which,
She is so concliue to my life and foule,
That as the starre mooues not but in his sphere
I could not but by her, the other motiue,
Why to a publique count I might not goe,
Is the great loue the generall gender beare him,
Who dipping all his faults in their affection,
Worke like the fpring that turneth wood to stone,
Conuert his giues to graces, fo that my arrowes
Too lightly tymbered for fo loued armes
Would haue reuerted to my bow againe,
But not where I haue aym'd them.

Laer. And fo haue It a noble father loft,
A fifter driuen into defperat termes,
Whofe worth, if prayfes may goe backe againe
Stood challenger on mount of all the age

For her perfections, but my reuenge will come.

King. Breake not your fleepes for that, you must not

thinke

That we are made of stuffe fo flat and dull,

Thatwe can let our berd be shooke with danger,

And thinke it pastime, you shortly shall heare more,

I lou'd

I lou'd your father, and we loue our felfe,
And that I hope will teach you to imagine.

Enter a meffenger with letters.

Meffe. Thefe to your maiefty, this to the queene.
King. From Hamlet, who brought them?

Meffe. Saylers my lord they fay, I faw them not,
They were giuen me by Claudio, he receiued them
Of him that brought them.

King. Laertes you fhall heare them: leaue vs.

High and mighty, you shall know I am fet naked on your kingdome, to morrow fhall I begge leaue to fee your kingly eyes, when I shall, first asking your pardon, there-vnto recount the occafion of my fuddaine returne.

King. What fhould this meane, are all the rest come backe,

Or is it fome abufe, and no fuch thing?

Laer. Know you the hand?

King. Tis Hamlets caracter. Naked, And in a poftfcript here he faies alone,

Can you deuife me?

Laer. I am loft in it my lord, but let him come,

It warmes the very ficknes in my heart

That I liue and tell him to his teeth,

Thus didft thou.

King. If it be fo Laertes,

As how should it be fo, how otherwife,

Will you be rul'd by me?

Laer. I my lord, fo you

will not ore-rule me to a peace.

King. To thine owne peace, if he be now returned,

As liking not his voyage, and that he meanes,

No more to vnder take it, I will worke him

To an exployt, now ripe in my deuise,

Vnder the which he shall not choose but fall:
And for his death no winde of blame shall breathe,
But euen his mother fhall vncharge the practise,
And call it accedent.

Laer. My lord I will be rul'd,

The rather if you could deuife it fo

That I might be the organ.

King. It falls right,

You haue beene talkt of fince your trauaile much,
And that in Hamlets hearing for a quality
Wherein they fay you fhine, your fumme of parts
Did not together plucke fuch enuy from him
As did that one, and that in my regard
Of the vnworthiest siedge.

Laer. What part is that my lord?

King. A very riband* in the cap of youth,
Yet needfull too, for youth no lesse becomes
The light and careleffe liuery that it weares
Then fettled age, his fables, and his weedes
Importing health and grauenes; two monthes fince
Heere was a gentleman of Normandy,

I haue feene my felfe, and feru'd against the French,
And they can well on horse-backe, but this gallant
Had witch-craft in't, he grew vnto his seate,
And to fuch wondrous dooing brought his horse,
As had he beene incorp'ft, and demy-natur'd
With the braue beaft, fo farre he topt me thought,
That I in forgery of shapes and tricks

Come short of what he did.

Laer. A Norman wast?

King. A Norman.

Laer. Vpon my life Lamord.

King. The very fame.

❤ribaud.

Laer.

Laer. I know him, well he is the brooch indeed And iem of all the nation.

King. He made confeffion of you, And gaue you fuch a maifterly report For art and exercise in your defence, And for your rapier most especiall,

That he cryd out t'would be a fight indeed

If one could match you; the fcrimers * of their nation

He fwore had neither motion, guard, nor eye,

If you oppos'd them; fir this report of his
Did Hamlet fo enuenom with his enuy,

That he could nothing do, but wish and beg
Your fodaine comming ore to play with you.
Now out of this.

Laer. What out of this my lord?

King. Laertes was your father, deere to you? Or are you like the painting of a forrowe,

A face without a heart?

Laer. Why afke you this?

King. Not that I thinke you did not loue your father, But that I know, loue is begunne by time,

And that I fee in paffages of proofe,

Time qualifies the fparke and fire of it,
There liues within the very flame of loue

A kind of weeke or fnuffe that will abate it,
And nothing is at a like goodnes ftill,

For goodnes growing to a plurifie,

Dies in his owne too much, that we would doe

We should doe when wee would: for this would changes,

And hath abatements and delayes as many,

As there are tongues, are hands, are accedents,
And then this fhould is like a fpend-thrifts figh,
That hurts by eafing; but to the quicke of th’vlcer,

Hamlet comes back what would you vndertake
To fhow your felfe indeed your fathers fonne
More then in words?

Laer. To cut his throat i'th church.

King. No place indeede fhould murther fanctuarize,
Reuengde fhould haue no bounds: but good Laertes
Will you doe this, keep clofe within your chamber
Hamlet return'd, fhall know you are come home,
Weele put on those shall praise your excellence,
And fet a double varnish on the fame

The Frenchman gaue you bring you in in fine together
And wager ore your heads; he being remisse,
Moft generous, and free from all contriuing,
Will not perufe the foyles, fo that with ease,
Or with a little fhuffling, you may choose
A fword vnbated, and in a pace of practise,
Requite him for your father.

Laer. I will doo't,

And for the purpofe, Ile annoynt my fword.
I bought an vnction of a mountibancke
So mortall, that but dippe a knife in it,
Where it drawes blood, no cataplafme fo rare,
Collected from all fimples that hauc vertue
Vnder the moone, can faue the thing from death.
That is but fcratcht withall, Ile tutch my point

With this contagion, that if I gall him flightly, it may be

death.

King. Lets further thinke of this.

Wey what conueiance both of time and meanes

May fit vs to our fhape if this should fayle,

And that our drift looke through our bad performance,
Twere better not affayd. Therefore this proiect,
Should haue a backe or fecond that might hold

If this did blaft in proofe; foft let me fee,

Wee'le