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That he, as 't were by accident, may here
Affront Ophelia. Her father, and myself,
Will fo bellow ourselves, that, seeing, unseen,
We may of their encounter frankly judge;
And gather by him, as he is behaved,
If't be th' a fiction of his love, or no,
That thus he suffers for.

Queen. I shall obey you:
And for my part, Ophelia, I do wish,
That your good beauties be the happy cause
Of Hamlet's wildness : So fall I hope your virtues
May bring him to his wonted way again
To both

your

honours. Oph. Madam, I wish it may. (Exit Queen. Pol. Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious, so

please ye, We will bestow ourselves Read on this book; That shew of such an exercise 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-sugar o'er The devil himself.

King. Oh, 'tis too true. How smart å lash that speech doth give my con

science ! The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastring art, Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it, Than is my deed to my most painted word. [Afide. Oh heavy burden ! Pol. I hear him coming; let's withdraw, my lord. .

[Exeunt all but Ophelia.

S CE N E II.

Enter Hamlet.
Ham.

10
O be, or not to be? that is the question.

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer The flings and arrows of outrageous fortune;

T

Os

* Or to take arms against affail of troubles,
And by oppofing end them ?-_-10 die, to sleep-
No more; and by a sleep, to say, we end
The heart-ach, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to; 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be with d.

To die-to sleep-
To sleep? perchance, to dream; ay, 'there's the

rub
For in that sleep of Death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this Mortal coil,
Must give us pause. —There's the respe&t,
That makes Calamity of so long life.
For who would bear ihe whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pang of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The infolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of tb' unworthy takes ;
When he himself might his Quielus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardles bear,
To groan aod sweat under a weary

life?
But that the dread of something after death,
(That undiscover'd country, from whose bourne
No traveller returns) puzzles the will;
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all:
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is ficklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprizes of great pith, and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action-Soft

you,

now!

(Secing Oph. The fair Ophelia? Nymph, in thy orisons Be all

my

fins remembred. Oph. Good my lord, How does your Honour for this many a day?

* Or to take arms agains a fea of troubles,] Without Question Shakespear wrote, against Allail of Troubles. in c. Asla ult. Warb.

Ham.

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. No, I never gave you aught. Oph. My honour'd lord, you know right well, you

did: And with them words of so sweet breath compos'u, As made the things more rich : that perfume loft, Take these again; for to the noble inind Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind. There,

my

lord.
Ham. Ha, ha, are you

honest ?
Oph. My lord, --
Ham. Are you fair?
Oph. What means your lordship?

Ham. That if you be honest and fair, you should adinit no discourse in your beauty.

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

Ham. Aỹ, truly ; for the power of beauty will sooner transform honefty from what it is, to a bawd; than the force of honesty can translate beauty into its likeness. This was sometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once. Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

Ham. You should not have believed me. For virtue cannot lo 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 sinners ? I am myself indifferent honelt; but yet I could accuse me of such Things, that it were better, my mother had not borne me. I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, * with more

offences with more offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination, &c.] What is the Meaning of Thoughts to put them in?

A

-Go thy ways

offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in name, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows, as I, do crawling between heav'n and earth? we are arrant knaves, believe none of usto a nudnery-_Where's your father ?

Oph. At home, my lord.

Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house. Farewel.

Oph. Oh help him, you sweet heav'ns!

Ham. If thou doft marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry. Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.-Get thee to a nunnery, -farewel-Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool: for wise men know well enough, what monkers you make of them-To a nunnery, goand quickly too :'farewel.

Oph. Heav'nly powers, restore 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 nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonnels your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't, it hath made me mad. I say, we will have no more mafriages. Those that are married already, all but one, shall live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go.

(Exit Hamler. Oph. Oh, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, foldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue,

fword!
Th'expe&ancy and rose of the fair State,
The glass of fashion, and the mould of form,
Th'obsery'd of all observers, quite, quite down !

A word is dropt out, We should read,

-thoughts to put them in name.] This was the Progress. The Offences are first conceived and namod, theo projeđed to be put in Ad, then executed.

Warb.

I am of ladies most deject and wretched,
That suck'd the honey of his music vows :
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
Like sweet bells jangled out of tune, and harsh;
That unmatch'd form, and feature of blown youth,
Blasted with ecstasy. Oh, woe is me!
T' have seen what I have seen ; see what I fee.

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S CE N E III.

Enter King and Polonius. King OVE! his affections do not that way

tend, Nor what he spake, tho' it lack'd form a little, Was not like madness. Something's in his soul, O'er which his melancholy sits on brood ; And, I do doubt, the hatch and the disclose Will be fome danger, which, how to prevent, I have in quick determination Thus set it down. He shall with speed to England, For the demand of our neglected Tribute: Haply, the Seas and Countries different, With variable objects, shall expel This something-fettled matter in his heart; Whereon his brains ftill beating, puts him thus From falbion of himself. What think

Pol. It should do well. But yet do I believe, The origin and commencement of this grief Sprung from neglected love. How now, Ophelia ?You need not tell us what lord Hamlet said, We heard it all, ----My lord, do as you please ;

[Exit Ophelia. But if you hold it fit, after the Play Let his Queen-mother all alone intreat him : To fhew his griefs ; let her be round with him : And I'll be plac'd, so please you, in the ear Of all their conf'rence. If the find him not, To England send him; or confine him, where Vol. IX.

N

You

you on't ?

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