Inquire me first what Danskers' are in Paris; And how, and who, what means, and where they keep,

What company, at what expense; and finding,
By this encompassment and drift of question,
That they do know my son, come you more nearer
Than your particular demands will touch it:
Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him;
As thus, I know his father, and his friends,
And, in part, him;-Do you mark this, Reynaldo?
Rey. Ay, very well, my lord.

Pol. And, in part, him;-but, you may say, not

well:

Oph. O, my lord, my lord, I have been so frighted!

Pol. With what, in the name of heaven? Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced; No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd, Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ankle; Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other. And with a look so piteous in purport, As if he had been loosed out of hell, To speak of horrors,-he comes before me. Pol. Mad for thy love? Oph.

But, truly, I do fear it. Pol.

My lord, I do not know;

What said he? Oph. He took me by the wrist, and held me hard; Then goes he to the length of all his arm: And with his other hand thus o'er his brow, He falls to such perusal of my face,

Pol.

Ay, my lord,

Marry, sir, here's my drift;
And, I believe, it is a fetch of warrant:
You laying these slight sullies on my son,
As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' the working,
Mark you,

Your party in converse, him you would sound,
Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes,
The youth you breathe of, guilty, be assur'd,
He closes with you in this consequence;
Good sir, or so; or friend, or gentleman,-
According to the phrase, or the addition,
Of man, and country.

Rey.
Very good, my lord.
Pol. And then, sir, does he this,-He does-
What was I about to say?-By the mass, I was
about to say something:-Where did I leave!

Rey. At, closes in the consequence.
Pol. At, closes in the consequence,-Ay, marry;
He closes with you thus:-I know the gentleman;
I saw him yesterday, or t'other day,

Or then, or then, with such, or such; and, as you say,
There was he gaming; there o'ertook in his rouse;
There falling out at tennis: or, perchance,
I saw him enter such a house of sale,
(Videlicet, a brothel,) or so forth.—

At last, a little shaking of mine arm,
And thrice his head thus waving up and down-
He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound,

As it did seem to shatter all his bulk,
And end his being: That done, he lets me go:
And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,
He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;
For out of doors he went without their helps,
And, to the last, bended their light on me.

Pol. Come, go with me; I will go seek the king.
This is the very ecstasy of love;
Whose violent property foredoes itself,
And leads the will to desperate undertakings,
As oft as any passion under heaven,
That does afflict our natures.
What, have you given him any hard words of

late?

I am sorry,

Oph. No, my good lord: but, as you did command, I did repel his letters, and denied His access to me.

Pol.
That hath made him mad.
I am sorry, that with better heed and judgment,
I had not quoted him: I fear'd, he did but trifle.
And meant to wreck thee; but, beshrew my je
lousy!

It seems, it is as proper to our age
To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions,
As it is common for the younger sort
To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king;
This must be known; which, being kept close,
might move

More grief to hide, than hate to utter love.
Come.
[Exeunt

SCENE II-A Room in the Castle. Enter KING, QUEEN, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDES STERN, and Attendants.

King. Welcome, dear Rosencrantz, and Guilder

Pol.
What do you think of me?
King. As of a man faithful and honorable.
Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might
you think,

When I had seen this hot love on the wing,
(As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that,
Before my daughter told me,) what might you,
Or my dear majesty your queen here, think,
If I had play'd the desk, or table-book;

Or given my heart a working, mute and dumb;
Or look'd upon this love with idle sight;
What might you think? no, I went round' to work,
And my young mistress thus did I bespeak :
Lord Hamlet is a prince out of thy sphere;
This must not be: and then I precepts gave her,
That she should lock herself from his resort,
Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.
Which done, she took the fruits of my advice;
And he, repulsed, (a short tale to make,)
Fell into a sadness; then into a fast;
Thence to a watch; thence into weakness;
Thence to a lightness; and, by this declension,
Into the madness wherein now he raves,
And all we mourn for.
King.
Do you think, 'tis this?
Queen. It may be, very likely.
Pol. Hath there been such a time, (I'd fain know
that,)

That I have positively said, 'Tis so,
When it proved otherwise?

King.

Not that I know.

Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man. Pol. Honest, my lord?

Ham. Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand. Pol. That's very true, my lord.

Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god, kissing carrion,——— Have you a daughter?

Pol. I have, my lord.

Ham. Let her not walk i' the sun: conception' is a blessing; but not as your daughter may conceive,' -friend, look to't.

Pol. How say you by that? [Aside.] Still harping on my daughter:-yet he knew me not at first; he said, I was a fishmonger; He is far gone, far gone: and, truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for love: very near this. I'll speak to him again. What do you read, my lord?

Ham. Words, words, words!

Pol. What is the matter, my lord?
Ham. Between who?

Pol. I mean the matter that you read, my lord. Ham. Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here, that old men have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber, and plum-tree gum; and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams: All of which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down; for yourself, sir, shall be as old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward.

Pol. Though this be madness, yet there's method in it. [Aside.] Will you walk out of the air, my lord? Ham. Into my grave?

Pol. Indeed, that is out o' the air.-How preg. nant sometimes his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter.- My honorable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.

Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal; except my life, except my life, except my life.

Pol. Fare you well, my lord.
Ham. These tedious old fools!

Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.

Pol. You go to seek the lord Hamlet; there he is.
Ros. God save you, sir!

[TO POLONIUS. [Exit POLONIUS.

Guil. My honored lord!Ros. My most dear lord!Ham. My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both?

Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth. Guil. Happy, in that we are not over happy; On fortune's cap we are not the very button. Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe?

Ros. Neither, my lord.

Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favors?

Guil. 'Faith, her privates we.

Ham. In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she is a strumpet. What news!

Ros. None, my lord: but that the world is grown honest.

Ham. Then is doomsday near: But your news is not true. Let me question more in particular: What have you, my good friends, deserved at the • Understanding. • Be pregnant. •Ready, apt.

Guil. Prison, my lord!

Ham. Denmark's a prison.
Ros. Then is the world one.

Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons; Denmark being one of the worst.

Ros. We think not so, my lord.

Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me it is a prison.

Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one; 'tis too narrow for your mind.

Ham. O God! I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space; were it not that I have bad dreams.

Guil. Which dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.

Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow. Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow.

Ham. Then are our beggars, bodies; and our monarchs, and outstretched heroes, the beggars' shadows: Shall we to the court? for, by my fay, I

cannot reason.

Ros. Guil. We'll wait upon you.

Ham. No such matter: I will not sort you with the rest of my servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore?

Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion. Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you: and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear, a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, come; deal justly with me: come, come; nay speak.

Guil. What should we say, my lord?

Ham. Any thing-but to the purpose. You were sent for, and there is a kind of confession in your looks, which your modesties have not craft enough to color: I know the good king and queen have sent for you.

Ros. To what end, my lord?

Ham. That you must teach me. But let me conjure you by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for, or no? Ros. What say you? [To GUILDENSTERN. Ham. Nay, then I have an eye of you; [Aside.] -if you love me, hold not off.

Guil. My lord, we were sent for.

Ham. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king and queen moult no feather. I have of late, (but, wherefore, I know not,) lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises: and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory: this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors. What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the

what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me, nor woman neither; though by your smiling you seem to say so.

Ros. My lord, there is no such stuff in my thoughts.

Ham. Why did you laugh then, when I said, Man delights not me?

Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten' entertainment the players shall receive from you: we coted them on the way: and hither are they coming, to offer you service.

Ham. He that plays the king, shall be welcome; his majesty shall have tribute of me; the adventurous knight shall use his foil and target: the lover shall not sigh gratis; the humorous man shall end his part in peace: the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickled o' the sere: and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt for't.-What players are they?

Ros. Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the tragedians of the city.

Ham. How chances it they travel? their residence, both in reputation and profit, was better both ways.

Ros. I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation.

Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? Are they so followed? Ros. No, indeed, they are not.

Ham. How comes it? Do they grow rusty? Ros. Nay, their endeavor keeps in the wonted pace: But there is, sir, an aiery of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top of question,' and are most tyrannically clapp'd for't: these are now the fashion; and so berattle the common stages, (so they call them,) that many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of goose quills, and dare scarce come thither.

Ham. What, are they children? who maintains them? how are they escoted?? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sin? will they not say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common players, (as it is most like, if their means are no better,) their writers do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their own succession?

Ros. 'Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and the nation holds it no sin, to tarre' them on to controversy: there was, for a while, no money. bid for argument, unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question.

Ham. Is it possible?

Guil. O, there has been much throwing about of brains.

Ham. Do the boys carry it away?

Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load, too."

Ham. It is not very strange: for my uncle is king of Denmark, and those, that would make mouths at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an hundred ducats a-piece, for his picture in little. 'Sblood, there is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out.

[Flourish of Trumpets within.

Guil. There are the players.

Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands. Come then: the appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony: let me comply

6

with you in this garb; lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you, must show fairly outward, should more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome; but my uncle-father, and auntmother, are deceived.

Guil. In what, my dear lord?

cellent play; well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said, there were no salads in the lines, to make the matter savory; nor no matter in the phrase, that might indite the author of affection: but called it an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One

saw.

Enter POLONIUS.

Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen! Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern; and you too: -at each ear a hearer: that great baby, you see there, is not yet out of his swaddling-clouts. Ros. Happily, he's the second time come to them; for they say an old man is twice a child.

Ham. I will prophesy, he comes to tell me of the players; mark it.-You say right, sir: o' Monday morning; 'twas then, indeed.

Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you.

Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you: When Roscius was an actor in Rome,——

Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord.
Ham. Buz, buz!

Pol. Upon my honor,——

Ham. Then came each actor on his ass,

Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, [tragical-historical, tragicalcomical-historical-pastoral,] scene individable, or poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men. Ham. O Jephthah, judge of Israel,—what a treasure hadst thou!

Pol. What a treasure had he, my lord? Ham. Why-One fair daughter, and no more, The which he loved passing well. Pol. Still on my daughter. [Aside. Ham. Am I not in the right, old Jephthah? Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter, that I love passing 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 pious chanson will show you more: for look, my abridgment comes.

Enter four or five Players.

You are welcome, masters: welcome all;-I am glad to see thee well:-welcome, good friends :O, old friend! Why, thy face is valanced since I saw thee last; Com'st thou to beard me in Denmark? What! my young lady and mistress! By'r lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last by the altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the ring.-Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en to't like French falconers, fly at any thing we see: We'll have a speech straight: Come, give us a taste of your quality; come, a passionate speech.

1 Play. What speech, my lord?

Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once,but it was never acted; or, if it was, not above once for the play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas caviare to the general: but it was (as I received it and others, whose judgments, in such matters, cried in the top of mine) an exChristmas carols. ⚫ Fringed. "An Italian dish made of the roes of fishes. • Above.

Writing.
Clog.

* Multitude.

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 see, let me see;— The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast,'tis not so; it begins with Pyrrhus. The rugged Pyrrhus,-he, whose sable arms, Black When he lay couched in the ominous horse, as his purpose, did the night resemble Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd With heraldry more dismal, head to foot Now is he total gules;',horridly trick'd With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons; Baked and impasted with the parching streets, That lend a tyrannous and a damned light To their lord's murder: Roasted in wrath, and fire, And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore, With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus Old grandsire Priam seeks;--So proceed you. Pol. 'Fore God my lord, well spoken; with good accent, and good discretion.

1 Play.
Anon he finds him,
Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword,
Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
Repugnant to command: Unequal match'd,
Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage, strikes wide;
But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,
Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
Stoops to his base; and with a hideous crash
Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear; for, lo! his sword
Which was declining on the milky head
Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick:
So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood;

And, like a neutral to his will and matter,
Did nothing.

But, as we often see, against some storm,
The bold winds speechless, and the orb below
A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,
Doth rend the region: so, after Pyrrhus pause,
As hush as death: anon the dreadful thunder
A roused vengeance sets him new a-work;
And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
On Mars's armor, forged for proof eterne,'
With less remorse 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 heaven.
As low as to the fiends!

Pol. This is too long.