For if the king like not the comedy,

Why then, belike-he likes it not, perdy.

Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.

Come, fome mufick.

Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you. Ham. Sir, a whole history.

Guil. The king, fir

Ham. Ay, fir, what of him?

Guil. Is in his retirement, marvellous diftemper'd.

Ham. With drink, fir?

Guil. No, my lord, with choler.

Ham. Your wisdom fhould fhow itself more richer, to fignify this to the Doctor; for, me to put him to his purgation, would perhaps plunge him into more choler.

Guil. Good my lord, put your difcourfe into fome frame, and start not fo wildly from my affair.

Ham. I am tame, fir :-pronounce.

Guil. The queen, your mother, in moft great affliction of spirit, hath fent 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 wholefome anfwer, I will do your mother's commandment: if not, your pardon, and my return, fhall be the end of my bufinefs.

Ham. Sir, I cannot.

Guil. What, my lord?

Ham. Make you a wholefome anfwer; my wit's dif eased: But, fir, fuch answer as I can make, you shall command: or, rather, as you fay, my mother: therefore no more, but to the matter: My mother, you fay

Rof. Then thus fhe fays: Your behaviour hath ftruck her into amazement and admiration.

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

Rof. She defires to speak with you in her closet, ere you go to bed.

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

Rof. My lord, you once did love me.

Ham. And do ftill, by these pickers and stealers.

Rof. Good my lord, what is your cause of diftemper? You do, furely, bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend.

Ham. Sir, I lack advancement.

Rof. How can that be, when you have the voice of the king himself for your fucceffion in Denmark?

Ham. Ay, fir, but, While the grafs grows-the proverb is something musty.

Enter the PLAYERS, with Recorders.

O, the recorders:-let me fee one.-To withdraw with you:-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.

Guil. 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

and it will difcourfe most eloquent mufick. 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 ftops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would found me from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much musick, excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be play'd on than a pipe? Call me what inftrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.

God bless you, fir!

Enter POLONIUS.

Pol. My lord, the queen would speak with you, and prefently..

Ham. Do you fee yonder cloud, that's almost in shape of a camel?

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

Ham. Methinks, it is like a weafel.

Pol. It is back'd like a weafel.

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 fay so.

[Exit POLONIUS. Ham. By and by is easily faid.-Leave me, friends. [Exeunt Ros. GUIL. HOR. &c.

'Tis now the very witching time of night;

When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world: Now could I drink hot blood, And do fuch business as the bitter day

Would

Would quake to look on. Soft; now to my mother.

O, heart; lofe not thy nature; let not ever

The foul of Nero enter this firm bofom:
Let me be cruel, not unnatural:

I will fpeak daggers to her, but use none;
My tongue and foul in this be hypocrites:
How in my words foever fhe be shent,

To give them feals never, my foul, confent!

SCENE III.

A Room in the fame.

[Exit.

Enter KING, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN.
King. I like him not; nor ftands it fafe with us,
To let his madness range. Therefore, prepare you;
I your commiffion will forthwith despatch,
And he to England fhall along with you:

The terms of our estate may not endure
Hazard fo near us, as doth hourly grow
Out of his lunes.

Guil. We will ourselves provide :
Moft holy and religious fear it is,
To keep thofe many many bodies safe,
That live and feed upon your majesty.

Rof. The fingle and peculiar life is bound,
With all the strength and armour of the mind,
To keep itself from 'noyance; but much more
That spirit, upon whose weal depend and rest
The lives of many. The ceafe of majefty
Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw
What's near it, with it: it is a maffy wheel,
Fix'd on the fummit of the highest mount,
To whofe huge spokes ten thousand leffer things
Are mortis'd and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,

Each

Each small annexment, petty confequence,

Attends the boift'rous ruin. Never alone
Did the king figh, but with a general groan.

King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage; For we will fetters put upon this fear,

Which now goes too free-footed.

Rof. Guil. We will haste us.

[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN. Enter POLONIUS.

Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's clofet; Behind the arras I'll convey myself,

To hear the process; I'll warrant, fhe'll tax him home:
And, as you faid, and wifely was it faid,

'Tis meet that fome more audience than a mother,
Since nature makes them partial, fhould o'erhear
The fpeech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege:
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,

And tell you what I know.

King. Thanks, dear my lord.

[Exit POLONIUS.

O, my offence is rank, it finells to heaven;
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
A brother's murder!-Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as sharp as will;
My ftronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
And, like a man to double bufinefs bound,
I ftand in paufe where I shall first begin,
And both neglect. What if this curfed hand
Were thicker than itfelf with brother's blood?
Is there not rain enough in the fweet heavens,
To wash it white as fnow? Whereto ferves mercy,
But to confront the vifage of offence ?
And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force-
To be foreftalled, ere we come to fall,

Or