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About the world have times twelve thirties been, 150 Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands
Unite commutual in most sacred bands.
Make us again count o’er ere love be done !
In neither aught, or in extremity.
And as my love is sized, my fear is so.
Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.
For husband shalt thou
0, confound the rest !
None wed the second but who kill'd the first.
P. Queen. The instances that second marriage move
Are base respects of thrift, but none of love.
But, what we do determine oft we break.
But, orderly to end where I begun,
That our devices still are overthrown;
But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.
Sport and repose lock from me day and night!
Each opposite that blanks the face of joy
Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife,
P. King. 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here a
[Sleeps P. Queen.
Sleep rock thy brain,
Ham. Madam, how like you this play?
King. Have you heard the argument? Is there no offense in't?
Ham. No, no; they do but jest, poison in jest; no offense i' the world.
King. What do you call the play?
Ham. The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna; Gonzago is the duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see anon ; 'tis a knavish piece of work; but what of that? your majesty and we that have free souls, it 230 touches us not: let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung:
This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king.
Oph. You are as good as a chorus, my lord.
Ham. I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see the puppets dallying.
Oph. Still better, and worse.
Ham. Begin, murderer; leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come; the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.
240 Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time
agreeing; Confederate season, else no creatures seeing ;
Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
[Pours the poison into the sleeper's ear
Ham. He poisons him i’ the garden for his estate. His name's Gonzago; the story is extant, and writ in
choice Italian; you shall see anon how the murderer 250 gets the love of Gonzago's wife.
Oph. The king rises !
[Exeunt all but HAMLET and HORATIO
Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep,
The hart ungallèd play ;
So runs the world away.
Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers, — if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me, with two Provincial roses on my razed shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir ?