golden Fire, why, it appears no other thing to me, than a foul and peftilent Congregation of Vapours. What a piece of Work is a Man! How Noble in Reafon! how infinite in Faculty! in form and moving how exprefs and admirable! in action, how like an Angel! in apprehenfion how like a God! the Beauty of the World, the Paragon of Animals; and yet to me, what is this Quinteffence of Duft? Man delights not me; no, nor Woman neither, tho' by your fmiling you seem to fay fo.

Rof. My Lord, there was no fuch Stuff in my Thoughts. Ham. Why did you laugh, when I faid, Man delights

not me?

Rof. To think, my Lord, if you delight not in Man, what Lenten Entertainment the Players fhall receive from you; we accofted them on the way, and hither are they coming to offer you Service.

Ham. He that plays the King fhall be welcome; his Majefty fhall have Tribute of me; the adventurous Knight fhall ufe his Foyle and Target; the Lover fhall not figh gratis; the humorous Man fhall end his part in Peace; the Clown fhall make thofe laugh, whofe Lungs are ticki̇'d ath' fere; and the Lady fhall fay her mind freely; or the blank Verfe fhall halt for't. What Players are they?

Rof. Even these you were wont to take Delight in, the Tragedians of the City.

Ham. How chances it they travel?their refidence both in Reputation and Profit was better, both ways.

Rof. I think their Inhibition cemes by the means of the late Innovation?

Ham. Do they hold the fame Eftimation they did when I was in the City? Are they fo follow'd?

Rof. No indeed, they are not.

Ham. How comes it? do they grow rufty?

Rof. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace; But there is, Sir, an airy of Children, little Yafes, that cry out on the top of Queftion; and are meft tyrannically clapt for't; these are row the Fashion, and fo b-rattle the common Stages (fo they call them) that many wearing Rapiers, are afraid of Goose Qils, and dare fcarce come thither,

Ham.

Ham. What are they Children? Who maintains 'em? How are they efcoted? Will they pursue the Quality no longer than they can fing? Will they not fay afterwards if they should grow themselves to common Players, as it is like moft, if their Means are no better, their Writers do them wrong to make them exclaim against their own Succeffion.

Rof. Faith, there has been much to do on both fides; and the Nation holds it no Sin, to tarre them to controverfie. There was for a while, no Mony bid for Argument, unless the Poet and the Player went to Cuffs in the Question.

Ham. Is't poffible?

Guild. Oh there has been much throwing about of Brains.

Ham. Do the Boys carry it away?

Rof. Ay, that they do, my Lord, Hercules and his load too. Ham. It is not ftrange, for mine Uncle is King of Denmark, and thofe that would make mowes at him while my Father lived, give twenty, forty, an hundred Ducates a piece, for his Picture in little. There is fomething in this more than Natural, if Philofophy could find it out.

Guild. There are the Players.

[Flourish for the Players.

Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Eifinoer; your Hands, come; the appurtenance of Welcome, is Fashion and Ceremony. Let me comply with you in the Garbe, left my extent to the Players (which I tell you must shew fairly outward) fhould more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome; but my Uncle Father, and Aunt Mother are deceiv'd.

Guild. In what, my dear Lord?

Ham. I am but mad North, North-Weft: When the Wind is Southerly, I know a Hawk from a Handfaw. Enter Polonius.

Pol. Well be with you, Gentlemen.

Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern, and you too, at each ear a hearer; that great Baby you fee there, is not yet out of his fwathing Clouts.

fay,

Rof. Haply he's the fecond time come to them; for they an old Man is twice a Child.

Ham.

Ham. I will Prophefie, he comes to tell me of the Players. Mark it, you fay right, Sir; for on Monday Morn ing 'twas fo indeed.

Pol. My Lord, I have News to tell you.
Ham. My Lord, I have News to tell you,
When Rofcius was an Actor in Rome

Pol. The Actors are come hither, my Lord.
Ham. Buzze, buzze.

Pol. Upon mine Honour

Ham. Then came each A&or on his Afs

Pol. The best Actors in the World, either for Tragedy, Comedy, History, Paftoral, Paftorical-Comical-HiftoricalPaftoral, Tragical-Hiftorical, Tragical-Comical-HiftoricalPaftocal, Scene undividable, or Poem unlimited. Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light, for the law of Wit, and the Liberty. These are the only Men.

Ham. O Jephta, Judge of Ifrael, what a Treasure hadft

thou!

Pol. What a Treasure had he, my Lord?

Ham. Why one fair Daughter, and no more,

The which he loved paffing well.

Pol. Still on my Daughter.

Ham. Am I not i'th right, old Jephta?

Pol. If you call me Jephta, my Lord, I have a Daughter that I love paffing well.

Ham. Nay, that follows not.

Pol. What follows then, my Lord?
Ham. Why, as by lot, God wot-

and then you

know, it came to pafs, as most like it was; the first row of the Rubrick, will fhew you more.

Abridgements come.

For look where my

Enter four or five Players.

Y'are welcome Mafters, welcome all. I am glad to fee thee well; welcome good Friends. Oh! my old Friend!. Thy Face is valiant fince I faw thee laft: Com'ft thou to Beard me in Denmark? what my young Lady and Mistress? Berlady your Lordship is nearer Heaven, than when I faw you laft, by the Altitude of a Choppine. Pray God your Voice, like a piece of uncurrent Gold, be not crack'd within the Ring. Mafters, you are all welcome; we'll e'en to't like French Faulconers, fly at any thing we fee; we'll have

a fpeech ftraight. Come, give us a Taste of your Quality; come, a paffionate Speech.

I Play. What Speech, my Lord?

Ham I heard thee (peak me a Speech once, but it was never acted: or if it was, not above once, for the Play I remember pleas'd not the Million, 'twas Caviar to the General; but it was, as I received it, and others, whose Judgment in fuch Matters, cryed in the top of mine, an excellent Play; well digefted in the Scenes, fet down with as much modefty, as cunning. I remember one faid, there was no Sallets in the Lines, to make the Matter favoury; nor no Matter in the Phrafe, that might indite the Author of Affection, but call'd it an honeft Method. One chief Speech in it, I chiefly lov'd, 'twas Aneas Tale to Dido, and thereabout of it especially,, where he speaks of Priam's Slaughter. If it live in your Memory, begin at this Line let me fee, let me feeThe rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian Beaft. It is not foit begins with Pyrrhus. The rugged Pyrrhus, he whofe Sable Arms

Black as his purpose, did the Night resemble
When he lay couched in the Ominous Horse,
Hath now his dread and black Complexion fmear'd
With Heraldry more difmal; Head to Foot
Now is he total Geules; horridly Trickt
With Blood of Fathers, Mothers, Daughters, Sons,
Bak'd and impafted, with the parching Streets,
That lend a tyrannous, and damned Light
To the vile Murthers. Roafted in Wrath and Fire,
And thus o'e fized with coagulate Gore,

With Eyes like Carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Old Grandfire Priam leeks.

Pol. 'Fore God, my Lord, well spoken, with good accent, and good Difcretion.

1 Play. Anon he finds him,

Striking too thort at Greeks. His Antick Sword,
Rebellious in his Arm, lyes where it fails
Repugnant to command; unequal match,
Pyrrhus at Priam dives, in rage ftrikes wide;
But with the whiff and wind of his fell Sword,
Th'unnerved Father falls. Then fenfelefs Ilium,
Seeming to feel his Blow, with flaming Top

Stoops

Stoops to his Base, and with a hideous crash
Takes Prifoner Pyrrhus Ear. For lo, his Sword,
Which was declining on the milky Head
Of Reverend Priam, feem'd i'th' Air to stick:
So as a Tyrant Pyrrhus stood,

And like a Neutral to his Will and Matter,
Did Nothing.

But as we often fee against fome Storm,
A Silence in the Heav'ns, the Rack stand still,
The bold winds fpeechlefs, and the Orb below
As huth as Death: Anon the dreadful Thunder
Doth rend the Region. So after Pyrrhus pawfe,
A rowsed Vengeance fets him new a work,
And never did the Cyclops Hammers fall
On Mars his Armours, forg'd for proof Eterne,
With lefs Remorfe than Pyrrhus bleeding Sword
Now falls on Priam.

Out, out, thou Strumpet-Fortune! all you Gods,
In general Synod take away her Power:

Break all the Spokes and Fellies from her Wheel,
And bowl the round Nave down the Hill of Heav'n,

As low as to the Fiends.

Pol. This is too long.

Ham. It fhall to th' Barbers with your Beard. Prethee fay on; he's for a Jigg, or a tale of Bawdry, or he fleeps. Say on; come to Hecuba.

1 Play. But who, O who, had seen the Mobled Queen ? Ham. The Mobled Queen?

Pol. That's good; Mobled Queen, is good.

I Play. Run bare-foot up and down, threatning the Flame With Biffon Rheum; a Clout about that Head,

Where late the Diadem ftood, and for a Robe
About her lank and all o'er-teamed Loyns,

A Blanket in th' alarum of fear caught up.
Who this had feen, with Tongue in Venom steep'd,
'Gainft Fortune's State, would Treafon have pronounc'd?
But if the Gods themselves did fee her then,

When the faw Pyrrhus make malicious fport
In mincing with his Sword her Husband's Limbs;
The inftant Burft of Clamour that she made,

(Unless things mortal move them not all)

Would