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To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt:
What to ourselves in passion we propose,

The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. | 126 The violence of either grief or joy

Their own enactures with themselves destroy:
Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.
This world is not for aye; nor 't is not strange,
That even our loves should with our fortunes change;
For 't is a question left us yet to prove,
Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
The great man down, you mark his favourite flies;
The poor advanc'd makes friends of enemies :
And hitherto doth love on fortune tend,
For who not needs shall never lack a friend;
And who in want a hollow friend doth try,

Directly seasons him his enemy. | 127 But, orderly to end where I begun,

Our wills and fates do so contrary run,
That our devices still are overthrown;
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own:
So think thou wilt no second husband wed,
But die thy thoughts, when thy first lord is dead.

P. Queen. Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light!
Sport and repose lock from me, day and night!
To desperation turn my trust and hope!
An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope!
Each opposite, that blanks the face of joy,
Meet what I would have well, and it destroy!
Both here, and hence, pursue me lasting strife,

If, once a widow, ever I be wife! |
128 Ham. If she should break her vow,

P. King. 'T is deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here a while:
My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
The tedious day with sleep.

[Sleeps. P. Queen.

Sleep rock thy brain;
And never come mischance between us twain !

Ham. Madam, how like you this play?
Queen. The lady protests too much, methinks.
Ham. 0! but she 'll keep her word.
King. Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in 't?

Ham. No, no; they do but jest, poison in jest: no offence i' the world.

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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; 't is a knavish piece of work; but what of that? your majesty, and we that have free souls, it touches us not: let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung. I

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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. You are keen, my lord, you are keen.
Ham. It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.
Oph. Still better and worse.

Ham. So you must take your husbands. Begin, murderer; leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come: - The croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.

Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;
Confederate season, else no creature seeing;
Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thy natural magic and dire property,
On wholesome life usurp immediately.

[Pours the Poison into the Sleeper's Ears. | Ham. He poisons him i' the garden for his estate. His 130 name's Gonzago: the story is extant, and written in very choice Italian. You shall see anon, how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife.

Oph. The king rises.
Ham. What! frighted with false fire?
Queen. How fares my lord ?
Pol. Give o'er the play.
King. Give me some light!
Pol. Lights, lights, lights!

[Exeunt all but HAMLET and HORATIO. Ham. Why, let the stricken deer go weep,

The hart ungalled play,
For some must watch, while some must sleep:

Thus runs the world away.
Would not this, Sir, and a forest of feathers, (if the rest of


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my fortunes turn Turk with me) with two Provincial roses on

my raised shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, Sir: 131 Hor. Half a share. Ham. A whole one,

For thou dost know, O Damon dear!

This realm dismantled was
Of Jove himself; and now reigns here

A very, very -- paddock.
Hor. You might have rhymed.

Ham. O good Horatio! I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand pound. Didst perceive ?

Hor. Very well, my lord.
Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning,
Hor. I did very well note him.
Ham. Ah, ha! Come, some music! come; the recorders!

For if the king like not the comedy,

Why then, belike, he likes it not, perdy. -1 132

Come; some music!

Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.
Ham. Sir, a whole history.
Guil. The king, Sir,
Ham. Ay, Sir, what of him?
Guil. Is in his retirement marvellous distempered.
Ham. With drink, Sir?
Guil. No, my lord, with choler.

Ham. Your wisdom should show itself more richer, to signify this to his doctor; for, for me to put him to his purgation would, perhaps, plunge him into more choler.

Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and start not so wildly from my affair. Ham. I am tame, Sir;

pronounce. Guil. The queen your mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you.

Ham. You are welcome. | 133 Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right

breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer,
I will do your mother's commandment; if not, your pardon
and my return shall be the end of my business.

Ham. Sir, I cannot.
Guil. What, my lord ?
Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my wit 's diseased:

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but, Sir, such answer as I can make, you

shall command; or, rather, as you say, my mother: therefore no more, but to the matter. My mother, you say, Ros. Then, thus she


Your behaviour hath struck her into amazement and admiration. |

Ham. O wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother! But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? impart!

Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you


go to bed.

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Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our mother.
Have you any further trade with us?

Ros. My lord, you once did love me.
Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers.

Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? you do, surely, bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend.

Ham. Sir, I lack advancement.

Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice of the king himself for your succession in Denmark?

Ham. Ay, Sir, but “While the grass grows," verb is something musty. Enter the Players, with Recorders.

135 0! the recorders: let me see one. To withdraw with you: why do you go about to recover the wind of me, if you would drive me into a toil?

Guil. 0, my lord! if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly.

Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe?

Guil. My lord, I cannot.
Ham. I pray you.
Guil. Believe me, I cannot.
Ham. I do beseech you.
Guil. I know no touch of it, my lord.

Ham. It is as easy as lying: govern these ventages with your fingers and the thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops.

Guil. But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony: I have not the skill.

Ham. Why look you now, how unworthy a thing you

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make of me. You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood! do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.

-1 136

God bless you, Sir!

Pol. My lord, the queen would speak with you, and presently.

Ham. Do you see yonder cloud, that's almost in shape of a camel?

Pol. By the mass, and 't is like a camel, indeed.
Ham. Methinks, it is like a weasel.
Pol. It is becked like a weasel.
Ham. Or like a whale?
Pol. Very like a whale.

Ham. Then will I come to my mother by and by. They fool me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by. Pol. I will say so.

[Exit Polonius. Ham. By and by is easily said. Leave me, friends.

[Exeunt Ros., GUIL., HOR., &c. | 137 'T is now the very witching time of night,

When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood,
And do such bitter business as the day
Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother.
0, heart! lose not thy nature; let not ever
The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom:
Let me be cruel, not unnatural.
I will speak daggers to her, but use none;
My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites :
How in my words soever she be shent,
To give them seals never, my soul, consent!

[Exit. 1




A Room in the Same.

King. I like him not; nor stands it safe with us,
To let his madness range. Therefore, prepare you:

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