and out-ftretch'd heroes the beggars fhadows; Shall we to th' Court? for by my fay, I cannot reafon. Beth. We'll wait upon you. Ham. No fuch matter. I will not fort you with the reft of my fervants: for to fpeak to you like an honest man, I am moft dreadfully attended; but in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elfinoor? Ref. To vifit you, my Lord; no other occafion. Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you; and fure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear 9 'at a half-penny. Were you not fent for? is it your own inclining? is it a free vifitation? come, deal juftly with me; come, come; nay, fpeak. Guil. What fhould we fay, my Lord? Ham. Any thing but to the purpose. You were fent for; and there is a kind of confeffion in your looks, which your modefties have not craft enough to colour. I know the good King and Queen have fent for you. Ref. To what end, my Lord? Ham. That you must teach me; but let me conjure you by the rights of our fellowship, by the confonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preferved love, and by what more dear a better propofer could charge you withal; be even and direct with me, whether you were fent for or no. Rof. What fay you? Ham. Nay then I have an eye of you: if you love me, hold not off. Guil. My Lord, we were fent for. Ham. I will tell you why; fo fhall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your fecrecy to the King and Queen moult no feather. I have of late, but wherefore I know not, loft all my mirth, foregone all custom of exercise; and indeed, it goes fo heavily with my difpofition, that this goodly frame, the earth, feems to me a fteril promontory; this moft excellent canopy the air, look you, this brave o'er-hanging firmament, this majeftical 9 of majeftical roof fretted with 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 faculties! 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; nor woman neither, tho' by your fmiling you feem to fay fo. Rof. My Lord, there was no fuch ftuff 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 use his foyle and target; the lover fhall not figh gratis; the humourous man fhall end his part in peace; and the Lady fhall fay her mind freely, or the blank verfe fhall halt for't. What Players are they? Rof. Even those 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 comes 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, ana Aiery of Children, little ' 'eyas's, 24 that (a) Relating to the playhouses then contending, the Bankfide, the Fortune, &c.-play'd by the Children of his Majefty's chapel. Pope. 1 yafes, . . . old edit. Theob. emend. that cry out on the top of queftion, and are moft tyrannically clapt for't; thefe are now the fashion, and fo berattle the common ftages (fo they call them) that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goofe-quills, and dare scarce come thither. Ham. What, are they children? who maintains 'em? how are they efcoted? will they purfue the quality no longer than they can fing? will they not fay afterwards, if they fhould grow themselves to common players, (as it is moft like, if their means are no better) their writers do them wrong to make them exclaim against their own fucceffion? Rof. 'Faith, there has been much to do on both fides; and the nation holds it no fin, to tarr them on to controverfie. There was for a while no money bid for argument, unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question. Ham. Is't poffible? Guil. Oh there has been much throwing about of brains. Ham. Do the boys carry it away? ? too. Rof. Ay, that they do, my Lord, Hercules and his load Ham. It is not strange; for mine uncle is King of Denmark, and thofe that would make mowes at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an hundred ducats a-piece, for his picture in little. There is something in this more than natural, if philofophy could find [Flourish for the Players, it out. 2 Guil. There are the players. Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elfinoor; your hands, come then; the appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony, let me complement with you in this garbe, left my extent to the players (which I tell you must thew fairly outward) fhould more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome; but my Uncle-father and Aunt-mother are deceiv'd. Guil. In what, my dear Lord? Ham. I am but mad north, north-weft: when the wind is foutherly, I know a hawk from a 3 'hernfhaw.` 2 comply 3 handfaw. SCENE SCENE Enter Polonius. Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen! VII. Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern, and you too, at each ear a hearer; that great baby you fee there, is not yet out of his fwathling clouts. Rof. Haply he's the fecond time come to them; for they fay, an old man is twice a child. Ham. I will prophefie, he comes to tell me of the players, mark it; you fay right, Sir; for on Monday morning 'twas fo indeed. Pol. My Lord, I have news to tell you. Pol. The actors are come hither, my Lord. Pol. Upon mine honour Ham. Then came each actor on his afs Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, hiftory, paftoral, paftoral-comical, hiftoricalpaftoral, scene undividable, or poem unlimited. Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light: for the law of wit and the liberty, thefe are the only men. Ham. Ob Jephtha, judge of Ifrael, what a treasure hadft thou! Pol. What a treafure 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 Jephtha? Pol. If you call me Jephtha, 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 pass, as most like it was; the first row of the Pont Pont-chanfonsa will fhew you more. For look where my abridgments come. Enter four or five Players. Y'are welcome, mafters, welcome all: I am glad to fee you well; welcome, good friends. Oh! old friend! thy face is valanc'd fince i faw thee laft: com'ft thou to beard me in Denmark? What, my young Lady and mistress? berlady, your Ladyfhip is nearer heaven than when I faw you laft, by the altitude of a chioppine. 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 speech ftraight. Come, give us a tafte of your quality; come, a paffionate fpeech. 1 Play. What fpeech, my good Lord? Ham. I heard thee fpeak me a fpeech 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 digested in the fcenes, fet down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember one faid, there was no falt in the lines, to make the matter favoury; nor no matter in the phrafe, that might indite the author of 4'affectation, but call'd it, an honeft method. One fpeech in it I chiefly lov'd; 'twas Eneas tale to Dido, and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priam's flaughter. If it live in your memory, begin at this line, let me fee, let me feeThe rugged Pyrrhus, like th' Hyrcanian beaft-It is not fo-it begins with Pyrrhus.. The rugged Pyrrhus, he whofe fable arms Black as his purpose, did the night resemble Hath now his dread and black complection fmear'd With (a) Pont-chanfons is the French word for Street-ballads, to fome col letion of which Hamlet refers Polonius after repeating jame fcraps of rhymes out of them. Pope. 4 affection, |