And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! [Writing. So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word; I have sworn't. Hor. [Within.] My lord, my lord, Mar. Within.] Lord Hamlet,- Ham. Heaven secure him! So be it. Mar. [Within.] Illo, ho, ho, my lord! Enter Horatio and Marcellus. Mar. How is't, my noble lord? Ham. O, wonderful! Hor. Ham. You will reveal it. Hor. What news, my lord? No; Not I, my lord, by heaven. But you'll be secret, Hor. Mar. Ay, by heaven, my lord. Ham. There's ne'er a villain, dwelling in all Denmark, But he's an arrant knave. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Here, as before, never, so help you mercy! That you, at such times, seeing me, never shall, Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from if they might ;- To tell us this. Or such ambiguous giving out, to note Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So, gentlemen, Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my lord. Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily; yes, 'Faith, heartily. Hor. There's no offence, my lord. Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, And much offence too. Touching this vision here, It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you; For your desire to know what is between us, ACT II. [Exeunt. O'er-master it as you may. And now, good friends, SCENE I.-A room in Polonius's house. Enter As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, Of his behaviour. Look Rey. Inquire me first what Danskers' are in Paris; What company, at what expense; and finding, As thus, I know his father, and his friends, Pol. And, in part, him;-but, you may say, not well: But, if't be he I mean, he's very wild; Rey. Drabbing:-You may go so far. Rey. My lord, that would dishonour him. Rey. Good my lord,- Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself. Pol. And let him ply his music. Well, my lord. [Erit. Enter Ophelia. Pol. Farewell!-How now, Ophelia? what's the matter? Oph. O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted! Pol. With what, in the name of heaven? Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, quar-As if he had been loosed out of hell, Oph. Pol. Faith, no; as you may season it in the But, truly, I do fear it. charge. You must not put another scandal on him, That he is open to incontinency; My lord, I do not know; What said he? Pol. That's not my meaning: but breathe his faults so Then goes he to the length of all his arm; quaintly, That they may seem the taints of liberty: The flash and out-break of a fiery mind; A savageness in unreclaimed blood, Of general assault. Pol. Wherefore should you do this? Rey. I would know that. Ay, my lord, Your party in converse, him you would sound, Very good, my lord. And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow, As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so ; At last, a little shaking of mine arm, And thrice his head thus waving up and down,- Pol. Come, go with me; I will go seek the king. This is the very ecstacy of love; Whose violent property foredoes itself. That does afflict our natures. I am sorry, What, have you given him any hard words of late? Oph. No, my good lord; but, as you did command, I did repel his letters, and denied Rey. 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 l'other day, Or then, or then; with such, or such; and, as you There was he gaming; there o'ertook in his rouse; Pol. That hath made him mad. It seems, it is as proper to our age More grief to hide, than hate to utter love. (5) Hanging down, like fetters. Destroys, (8) Observed. [Exeunt, (6) Body. SCENE II-A room in the castle. Enter King, Queen, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Attendants. King. Welcome, dear Rosencrantz, and denstern! King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in. [Exit Polonius. He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found Guil-The head and source of all your son's distemper. Queen. I doubt, it is no other but the main; His father's death, and our o'er-hasty marriage. Re-enter Polonius, with Voltimand and Cornelius. King. Well, we shall sift him.-Welcome, my good friends! Moreover that we much did long to see you, mour, That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court of you; And, sure I am, two men there are not living, Both your majesties Guil. King. Thanks, Rosencrantz, and gentle Guil denstern. Queen. Thanks, Guildenstern, and gentle Rosen Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway? [Gives a paper. That it might please you to give quiet pass King. Mean time, we thank you for your well-took labour: Pol. [Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius, My liege, and madam, to expostulate Queen. More matter, with less art. Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all. That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true, 'tis pity; And pity 'tis, 'tis true: a foolish figure; But farewell it, for I will use no art. Pol. The embassadors from Norway, my good Mad let us grant him then: and now remains, lord, Are joyfully return'd. King. Thou still hast been the father of good news. Pol. Have I, my lord? Assure you my good I hold my duty, as I hold my soul, Complaisance. (2) Utmost exertion. That we find out the cause of this effect; I have a daughter; have, while she is mine; That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; beautified is vile phrase; but you shall hear. Thus: In her excellent white bosom, these, &c. Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her? (5) Poland, (6) Imposed on. (7) Discuss. Pol. Good madam, stay a while; I will be faith- Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away; ful. Receiv'd his love? Pol. But how hath she What do you think of me? When I had seen this hot love on the wing King. That I have positively said, 'Tis so, King. Not that I know. Pol. Take this from this, if this be otherwise : If circumstances lead me, I will find King. Pol. You know, together, Here in the lobby. Queen. How may we try it further? sometimes he walks four hours So he does, indeed. Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to I'll board' him presently :-O, give me leave.[Exeunt King, Queen, and Attendants. How does my good Lord Hamlet? Ham. Well, god-'a-mercy. Pol. Do you know me, my lord? Ham. Excellent well; you are a fishmonger. Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man. 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 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? 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 pregnant 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 honourable 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. 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 honour'd lord! Ros. My most dear lord! Ham. My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ve both? Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth. Guil. Happy, in that we are not overhappy; 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 [forgone all custom of exercises: and, indeed, it middle of her favours? 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 hands of fortune, that she sends you to prison hither. 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 outstretch'd 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 colour: 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 eather. I have of late (but, wherefore, I know not,) lost all my mirth, (1) Spare. goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a steril 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 vapours. 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 world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, 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 endeavour 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 clapped 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, |