ACT III.

SCENE, The PALACE.

Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rofincrantz, Guildenstern, and Lords.

A

KING.

ND can you by no drift of conference

Get from him why he puts on this confufion, Grating fo harfhly all his days of quiet,

With turbulent and dang'rous lunacy?

Rof. He does confefs, he feels himself distracted; But from what cause he will by no means fpeak.

Guil. Nor do we find him forward to be founded;
But with a crafty madness keeps aloof,

When we would bring him on to fome confeffion
Of his true state.

Queen. Did he receive you well ?

Rof. Moft like a gentleman.

Guil. But with much forcing of his difpofition. Rof. Niggard of queftion, but of our demands Most free in his reply.

Queen. Did you affay him to any paftime?

Rof. Madam, it fo fell out, that certain players
We o'er-took on the way; of these we told him;
And there did seem in him a kind of joy
To hear of it: they are about the court;
And (as I think) they have already order
This night to play before him.

Pol. Tis most true:

And he befeech'd me to intreat your Majefties

To hear and fee the matter.

King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me

To hear him so inclin'd.

Goo d

Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,
And drive his purpofe into thefe delights.
Rof. We fhall, my Lord.

King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too;
For we have closely fent for Hamlet hither,
That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
Affront Ophelia. Her father, and myself,
Will fo beftow ourfelves, that, feeing, unfeen,
We may of their encounter frankly judge;
And gather by him, as he is behaved,
If't be th' affliction of his love, or no,
That thus he fuffers for.

Queen. I fhall obey you:

And for my part, Ophelia, I do wish,

[Exeunt.

That your good beauties be the happy cause
Of Hamlet's wildnefs! So fhall I hope, your virtues
May bring him to his wonted way again

To both your honours.

Oph. Madam, I wish it may.

[Exit Queen.

-Read on this book;

Pol. Ophelia, walk you here.-Gracious, fo please ye,

We will beftow ourfelves

'That fhew of fuch an exercife may colour

Your loneliness. We're oft to blame in this,

'Tis too much prov'd, that with devotion's visage, And pious action, we do fugar o'er

The devil himfelf.

King. Oh, 'tis too true.

How imart a lash that fptech doth give my confcience !

The harlot's cheek, beautied with plaiftring art,

Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it,
Than is my deed to my most painted word.

Oh heavy burden!

[Afide.

Pol. I hear him coming; let's withdraw, my Lord.

[Exeunt all but Ophelia.

Enter Hamlet.

Hem. To be, or not to be? that is the queftion.Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to fuffer

The

The flings and arrows of outrageous fortune;
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by oppofing end them ?-to die,—to sleep-
No more; and by a fleep, to fay, we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to; 'tis a confummation
Devoutly to be wifh'd. To die-to fleep-
To fleep? perchance, to dream; ay, there's the rub
For in that fleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have fhuffled off this mortal coil,
Muft give us paufe. There's the respect,
That makes calamity of fo long life.

For who would bear the whips and fcorns of time,
Th' oppreffor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pang of defpis'd love, the law's delay,
The infolence of office, and the fpurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes;
When he himself might his Quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardles bear,
To groan and fweat under a weary life?
But that the dread of fomething after death,
(That undifcover'd country, from whofe bourne
No traveller returns) puzzles the will;
And makes us rather bear thofe ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus confcience does make cowards of us all:
And thus the native hue of refolution

Is ficklied o'er with the pale caft of thought;
And enterprizes of great pith, and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lofe the name of action-Soft you, now!
[Seeing Ophelia.

The fair Ophelia? Nymph, in thy orifons
Be all my fins remembred.

Oph. Good my Lord,

How does your honour for this many a day?
Ham. I humbly thank you, well;

Oph. My Lord, I have remembrances of yours,
That I have longed long to re-deliver.

I pray you, now receive them,

Ham.

Ham. No, I never gave you aught.

Oph. My honour'd Lord, you know right well, you did;
And with them words of fo fweet breath compos'd,
As made the things more rich: that perfume loft,
Take thefe again; for to the noble mind

Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.
There, my Lord.

Ham. Ha, ha! are you honeft?
Oph. My Lord-

Ham. Are you fair?

Oph. What means your Lordship?

Ham. That if you be honest and fair, you should admit no difcourfe to your beauty.

Oph. Could beauty, my Lord, have better commerce than with honesty?

Ham. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will fooner transform honefty from what it is, to a bawd; than the force of honefty can tranflate beauty into its likeness. This was fometime a parodox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once.

Oph. Indeed, my Lord, you made me believe fo.

Ham. You fhould not have believed me. For virtue cannot fo inoculate our old stock, but we shall relish of it. I lov'd you not.

Oph. I was the more deceiv'd.

Ham. Get thee to a nunnery. Why wouldst thou be a breeder of finners? I am myfelf in indifferent honeft; but yet I could accufe, me of fuch things, that it were. better, my mother had not borne me. I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them fhape, or time to act them in. What should fuch fellows, as I, do crawling between heav'n and earth? we are arrant knaves, believe none of us-Go thy ways to a nunnery- -Where's your father?

Oph. At home, my Lord.

Ham. Let the doors be fhut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own houfe. Oph. Oh help him, you fweet heav'ns!

Farewel.

Ham. If thou doft marry, I'll give thee this plague for

thy dowry. Be thou as chafte as ice, as pure as fnow, thou shalt not escape calumny.-Get thee to a nunnery, -farewel—Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wife men know well enough, what monsters you make of them--To a nunnery, go-and quickly too: farewel.

Oph. Heav'nly powers, reftore him!

Ham. I have heard of your painting too, well enough: God has given you one face, and you make yourselves. another. You jig, you amble, and you lifp, and nickname God's creatures, and make your wantonnefs your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't, it hath made me mad. I fay, we will have no more marriages. Those that are married already, all but one, fhall live; the reft fhall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go.

[Exit Hamlet. Oph. Oh, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, foldier's, fcholar's, eye, tongue, fword! Th' expectancy and rofe of the fair ftate,

The glafs of fashion, and the mould of form,
Th' obferv'd of all obfervers, quite, quite down!
I am of ladies moft deject and wretched,
That fuck'd the honey of his musick vows:
Now fee that noble and moft fov'reign reafon,
Like fweet bells jangled out of tune, and harsh;
That unmatch'd form, and feature of blown youth,
Blafted with ecftafy. Oh, woe is me!

T' have feen what I have feen; fee what I fee.

Enter King and Polonius.

King. Love! his affections do not that way tend,
Nor what he fpake, tho' it lack'd form a little,
Was not like madnefs. Something's in his foul,
O'er which his melancholy fits on brood;
And, I do doubt, the hatch and the difclofe
Will be fome danger, which, how to prevent,
I have in quick determination

Thus fet it down. He fhall with fpeed to England,
For the demand of our neglected tribute:
Haply, the feas and countries different,