fifty, an hundred ducats a-piece, for his picture in little. There is fomething in this more than natu, ral, if philofophy could find it out.

[Flourish of trumpets.

Guil. There are the players.

Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elfineur. Your hands. Come then: the appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb; left my extent to the players, which, I tell you, must shew fairly outward, should 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 hand-faw.

Enter POLONIUS.

Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen!

Ham. Hark you, Guildenftern;—and you too; -at each ear a hearer: that great baby, you fee there, is not yet out of his fwadling-clouts.

Rof. Haply, he's the second time come to them; for, they fay, an old man is twice a child.

Ham. I will prophefy, he comes to tell me of the players; mark it.-You fay right, fir: on Monday morning; 'twas then, 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,

Ham. Buz, buz!

Pol. Upon mine honour

my lord.

Ham. Then came each actor on his afs

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Pol.

Pot. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, hiftory, paftoral, paftoral-comical, hiftorical-paftoral [tragical-hiftorical, tragical-comical, historical-paftoral], fcene undividable, 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 Jephtha, judge of Ifrael,what a treafure 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.

[Afide.

Ham. Am I not i'the 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 pious chanfon will fhew you more; for look, where my abridgment comes.

Enter four or five Players.

You are welcome, masters; welcome, all:-I am glad to fee thee well:-welcome, good friends.O, old friend! Why, thy face is valanc'd fince I faw thee laft; Com't thou to beard me in Denmark? What! my young lady and mistress! By-'rlady, your ladyfhip is nearer to 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.-Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en to't like French falconers,

fly

rafy at any thing we fee: We'll have a fpeech straight: al,, -Come give us a taste of your quality; come, a opaffionate fpeech.

ΟΙ 1 Play. What fpeech, my good lord?

o: 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, pleas'd not the million; 'twas caviare to the general: but it was (as I receiv'd it, and others, whofe judgments, in fuch matters, cried in the top of mine) an excellent play; well digefted in the fcenes, fet down with as much modefty as cunning. I remember, one faid, there were no fallets 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; [as wholesome as fweet, and by very much more handsome than fine]. One speech in it I chiefly lov'd: 'twas Æneas' 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 fee ;.

The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast,— 'tis not fo; it begins with Pyrrhus.

The rugged Pyrrhus,he, whose fable arms, Black as his purpofe, did the night resemble When he lay couched in the ominous horfe,Hath now this dread and black complexion fmear'd With heraldry more difmal; head to foot Now is he total gules; horridly trick'd

With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, fons ; Bak'd and impafted with the parching Streets, That lend a tyrannous and a damned light

To their lord's murder: Roafted in wrath, and fire, And thus o'erfized with coagulate gore,

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With

With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus Old grandfire Priam feeks :-So, proceed you. Pol. Fore God, my lord, well fpoken; with good accent, and good discretion.

1 Play. Anon he finds him,

Striking too fhort at Greeks; his antique fword,
Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
Repugnant to command: Unequal match'd,
Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage, frikes wide;
But with the whiff and wind of his fell fword
The unnerved father falls. Then fenfelefs Ilium,
Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
Stoops to his bafe; and with a hideous crash
Takes prifoner Pyrrhus' ear: for, lo! bis fword,
Which was declining on the milky head
Of reverend Priam, feem'd i' the air to flick:
So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus flood;
And like a neutral to his will and matter,
Did nothing.

But, as we often fee, against fome form,
A filence in the heavens, the rack ftand Still,
The bold winds fpeechless, and the orb below
As bufh as death: anon, the dreadful thunder
Doth rend the region: So, after Pyrrhus' pause,
A roufed vengeance fets him new a-work;
And never did the Cyclops' hammer fall
On Mar's armour, forg'd for proof eterne,
With lefs remorfe than Pyrrhus' bleeding fword
Now falls on Priam.-

Out, out, thou ftrumpet Fortune! All you gods,
In general fynod, 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.

Pol. This is too long.

Ham. It fhall to the barber's with your beard.Pr'ythee, fay on;-He's for a jigg, or a tale of bawdry, or he fleeps:-fay on, come to Hecuba.

I Play. But who,O woe! bad feen the mobled queen,Ham. The mobled queen ?

Pol. That's good; mobled queen is good.

1 Play. Run bare-foot up and down, threat'ning the
With biffon rheum; a clout upon that head, [flames
Where late the diadem flood; and, for a robe,
About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins,
A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up,
Who this bad feen, with tongue in venom fleep'd,
'Gainft fortune's fate would treafon have pronounc'd:
But if the gods themselves did fee her then,
When fhe faw Pyrrhus make malicious fport
In mincing with his fword her husband's limbs;
The infant burst of clamour that he made,
(Unless things mortal move them not at all),
Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven
And paffion in the gods.

Pol. Look, whe'r he has not turn'd his colour. and has tears in's eyes.-Pr'ythee, no more.

Ham. 'Tis well; I'll have thee fpeak out the reft of this foon.-Good my lord, will you fee the players well beftow'd? Do you hear, let them be well used; for they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the time: After your death, you were better have a bad epitaph, than their ill report while you live. Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their

defert.

Ham. Odd's bodikins, man, much better: Ufe every man after his defert, and who fhall 'fcape whipping? Ufe them after your own honour and dignity:

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