Qu. More matter, with lesse Art

   Pol. Madam, I sweare I vse no Art at all:
That he is mad, 'tis true: 'Tis true 'tis pittie,
And pittie it is true: A foolish figure,
But farewell it: for I will vse no Art.
Mad let vs grant him then: and now remaines
That we finde out the cause of this effect,
Or rather say, the cause of this defect;
For this effect defectiue, comes by cause,
Thus it remaines, and the remainder thus. Perpend,
I haue a daughter: haue, whil'st she is mine,
Who in her Dutie and Obedience, marke,
Hath giuen me this: now gather, and surmise.

The Letter.

To the Celestiall, and my Soules Idoll, the most beautifed Ophelia.
That's an ill Phrase, a vilde Phrase, beautified is a vilde
Phrase: but you shall heare these in her excellent white
bosome, these

   Qu. Came this from Hamlet to her

   Pol. Good Madam stay awhile, I will be faithfull.
Doubt thou, the Starres are fire,
Doubt, that the Sunne doth moue:
Doubt Truth to be a Lier,
But neuer Doubt, I loue.
O deere Ophelia, I am ill at these Numbers: I haue not Art to
reckon my grones; but that I loue thee best, oh most Best beleeue
it. Adieu.
Thine euermore most deere Lady, whilst this
Machine is to him, Hamlet.
This in Obedience hath my daughter shew'd me:
And more aboue hath his soliciting,
As they fell out by Time, by Meanes, and Place,
All giuen to mine eare

   King. But how hath she receiu'd his Loue?
  Pol. What do you thinke of me?
  King. As of a man, faithfull and Honourable

   Pol. I wold faine proue so. But what might you think?
When I had seene this hot loue on the wing,
As I perceiued it, I must tell you that
Before my Daughter told me what might you
Or my deere Maiestie your Queene heere, think,
If I had playd the Deske or Table-booke,
Or giuen my heart a winking, mute and dumbe,
Or look'd vpon this Loue, with idle sight,
What might you thinke? No, I went round to worke,
And (my yong Mistris) thus I did bespeake
Lord Hamlet is a Prince out of thy Starre,
This must not be: and then, I Precepts gaue her,
That she should locke her selfe from his Resort,
Admit no Messengers, receiue no Tokens:
Which done, she tooke the Fruites of my Aduice,
And he repulsed. A short Tale to make,
Fell into a Sadnesse, then into a Fast,
Thence to a Watch, thence into a Weaknesse,
Thence to a Lightnesse, and by this declension
Into the Madnesse whereon now he raues,
And all we waile for

   King. Do you thinke 'tis this?
  Qu. It may be very likely

   Pol. Hath there bene such a time, I'de fain know that,
That I haue possitiuely said, 'tis so,
When it prou'd otherwise?
  King. Not that I know

   Pol. Take this from this; if this be otherwise,
If Circumstances leade me, I will finde
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeede
Within the Center

   King. How may we try it further?
  Pol. You know sometimes
He walkes foure houres together, heere
In the Lobby

   Qu. So he ha's indeed

   Pol. At such a time Ile loose my Daughter to him,
Be you and I behinde an Arras then,
Marke the encounter: If he loue her not,
And be not from his reason falne thereon;
Let me be no Assistant for a State,
And keepe a Farme and Carters

   King. We will try it.
Enter Hamlet reading on a Booke.

  Qu. But looke where sadly the poore wretch
Comes reading

   Pol. Away I do beseech you, both away,
Ile boord him presently.

Exit King & Queen.

Oh giue me leaue. How does my good Lord Hamlet?
  Ham. Well, God-a-mercy

   Pol. Do you know me, my Lord?
  Ham. Excellent, excellent well: y'are a Fishmonger

   Pol. Not I my Lord

   Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man

   Pol. Honest, my Lord?
  Ham. I sir, to be honest as this world goes, is to bee
one man pick'd out of two thousand

   Pol. That's very true, my Lord

   Ham. For if the Sun breed Magots in a dead dogge,
being a good kissing Carrion-
Haue you a daughter?
  Pol. I haue my Lord

   Ham. Let her not walke i'thSunne: Conception is a
blessing, but not as your daughter may conceiue. Friend
looke too't

   Pol. How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter:
yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a Fishmonger:
he is farre gone, farre gone: and truly in my youth,
I suffred much extreamity for loue: very neere this. Ile
speake to him againe. What do you read my Lord?
  Ham. Words, words, words

   Pol. What is the matter, my Lord?
  Ham. Betweene who?
  Pol. I meane the matter you meane, my Lord

   Ham. Slanders Sir: for the Satyricall slaue saies here,
that old men haue gray Beards; that their faces are wrinkled;
their eyes purging thicke Amber, or Plum-Tree
Gumme: and that they haue a plentifull locke of Wit,
together with weake Hammes. All which Sir, though I
most powerfully, and potently beleeue; yet I holde it
not Honestie to haue it thus set downe: For you your
selfe Sir, should be old as I am, if like a Crab you could
go backward

   Pol. Though this be madnesse,
Yet there is Method in't: will you walke
Out of the ayre my Lord?
  Ham. Into my Graue?
  Pol. Indeed that is out o'th' Ayre:
How pregnant (sometimes) his Replies are?
A happinesse,
That often Madnesse hits on,
Which Reason and Sanitie could not
So prosperously be deliuer'd of.
I will leaue him,
And sodainely contriue the meanes of meeting
Betweene him, and my daughter.
My Honourable Lord, I will most humbly
Take my leaue of you

   Ham. You cannot Sir take from me any thing, that I
will more willingly part withall, except my life, my
life

   Polon. Fare you well my Lord

   Ham. These tedious old fooles

   Polon. You goe to seeke my Lord Hamlet; there
hee is.
Enter Rosincran and Guildensterne.

  Rosin. God saue you Sir

   Guild. Mine honour'd Lord?
  Rosin. My most deare Lord?
  Ham. My excellent good friends? How do'st thou
Guildensterne? Oh, Rosincrane; good Lads: How doe ye
both?
  Rosin. As the indifferent Children of the earth

   Guild. Happy, in that we are not ouer-happy: on Fortunes
Cap, we are not the very Button

   Ham. Nor the Soales of her Shoo?
  Rosin. Neither my Lord

   Ham. Then you liue about her waste, or in the middle
of her fauour?
  Guil. Faith, her priuates, we

   Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? Oh, most true:
she is a Strumpet. What's the newes?
  Rosin. None my Lord; but that the World's growne
honest

   Ham. Then is Doomesday neere: But your newes is
not true. Let me question more in particular: what haue
you my good friends, deserued at the hands of Fortune,
that she sends you to Prison hither?
  Guil. Prison, my Lord?
  Ham. Denmark's a Prison

   Rosin. Then is the World one

   Ham. A goodly one, in which there are many Confines,
Wards, and Dungeons; Denmarke being one o'th'
worst

   Rosin. We thinke 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

   Rosin. Why then your Ambition makes it one: 'tis
too narrow for your minde

   Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and
count my selfe a King of infinite space; were it not that
I haue bad dreames

   Guil. Which dreames indeed are Ambition: for the
very substance of the Ambitious, is meerely the shadow
of a Dreame

   Ham. A dreame it selfe is but a shadow

   Rosin. Truely, and I hold Ambition of so ayry and
light a quality, that it is but a shadowes shadow

   Ham. Then are our Beggers bodies; and our Monarchs
and out-stretcht Heroes the Beggers Shadowes:
shall wee to th' Court: for, by my fey I cannot reason?
  Both. Wee'l wait vpon you

   Ham. No such matter. I will not sort you with the
rest of my seruants: for to speake to you like an honest
man: I am most dreadfully attended; but in the beaten
way of friendship, What make you at Elsonower?
  Rosin. To visit you my Lord, no other occasion

   Ham. Begger that I am, I am euen poore in thankes;
but I thanke you: and sure deare friends my thanks
are too deare a halfepeny; were you not sent for? Is it
your owne inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come,
deale iustly with me: come, come; nay speake

   Guil. What should we say my Lord?
  Ham. Why any thing. But to the purpose; you were
sent for; and there is a kinde confession in your lookes;
which your modesties haue not craft enough to color,
I know the good King & Queene haue sent for you

   Rosin. To what end my Lord?
  Ham. That you must teach me: but let mee coniure
you by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of
our youth, by the Obligation of our euer-preserued loue,
and by what more deare, a better proposer could charge
you withall; be euen and direct with me, whether you
were sent for or no

   Rosin. What say you?
  Ham. Nay then I haue an eye of you: if you loue me
hold not off

   Guil. My Lord, we were sent for

   Ham. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation
preuent your discouery of your secricie to the King and
Queene: moult no feather, I haue of late, but wherefore
I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all custome of exercise;
and indeed, it goes so heauenly with my disposition;
that this goodly frame the Earth, seemes to me a sterrill
Promontory; this most excellent Canopy the Ayre,
look you, this braue ore-hanging, this Maiesticall Roofe,
fretted with golden fire: why, it appeares no other thing
to mee, then a foule and pestilent congregation of vapours.
What a piece of worke is a man! how Noble in
Reason? how infinite in faculty? in forme and mouing
how expresse and admirable? in Action, how like an Angel?
in apprehension, how like a God? the beauty of the
world, the Parragon of Animals; and yet to me, what is
this Quintessence of Dust? Man delights not me; no,
nor Woman neither; though by your smiling you seeme
to say so

   Rosin. My Lord, there was no such stuffe in my
thoughts

   Ham. Why did you laugh, when I said, Man delights
not me?
  Rosin. To thinke, my Lord, if you delight not in Man,
what Lenton entertainment the Players shall receiue
from you: wee coated them on the way, and hither are
they comming to offer you Seruice

   Ham. He that playes the King shall be welcome; his
Maiesty shall haue Tribute of mee: the aduenturous
Knight shal vse his Foyle and Target: the Louer shall
not sigh gratis, the humorous man shall end his part in
peace: the Clowne shall make those laugh whose lungs
are tickled a'th' sere: and the Lady shall say her minde
freely; or the blanke Verse shall halt for't: what Players
are they?
  Rosin. Euen those you were wont to take delight in
the Tragedians of the City

   Ham. How chances it they trauaile? their residence
both in reputation and profit was better both
wayes

   Rosin. I thinke their Inhibition comes by the meanes
of the late Innouation?
  Ham. Doe they hold the same estimation they did
when I was in the City? Are they so follow'd?
  Rosin. No indeed, they are not

   Ham. How comes it? doe they grow rusty?
  Rosin. Nay, their indeauour keepes in the wonted
pace; But there is Sir an ayrie of Children, little
Yases, that crye out on the top of question; and
are most tyrannically clap't for't: these are now the
fashion, and so be-ratled the common Stages (so they
call them) that many wearing Rapiers, are affraide of
Goose-quils, and dare scarse come thither

   Ham. What are they Children? Who maintains 'em?
How are they escorted? Will they pursue the Quality no
longer then they can sing? Will they not say afterwards
if they should grow themselues to common Players (as
it is most like if their meanes are not better) their Writers
do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their
owne Succession

   Rosin. Faith there ha's bene much to do on both sides:
and the Nation holds it no sinne, to tarre them to Controuersie.
There was for a while, no mony bid for argument,
vnlesse the Poet and the Player went to Cuffes in
the Question

   Ham. Is't possible?
  Guild. Oh there ha's beene much throwing about of
Braines

   Ham. Do the Boyes carry it away?
  Rosin. I that they do my Lord. Hercules & his load too

   Ham. It is not strange: for mine Vnckle is King of
Denmarke, and those that would make mowes at him
while my Father liued; giue twenty, forty, an hundred
Ducates a peece, for his picture in Little. There is something
in this more then Naturall, if Philosophie could
finde it out.

Flourish for the Players.

  Guil. There are the Players

   Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcom to Elsonower: your
hands, come: The appurtenance of Welcome, is Fashion
and Ceremony. Let me comply with you in the Garbe,
lest my extent to the Players (which I tell you must shew
fairely outward) should more appeare like entertainment
then yours. You are welcome: but my Vnckle Father,
and Aunt Mother are deceiu'd

   Guil. In what my deere Lord?
  Ham. I am but mad North, North-West: when the
Winde is Southerly, I know a Hawke from a Handsaw.
Enter Polonius.

  Pol. Well be with you Gentlemen

   Ham. Hearke you Guildensterne, and you too: at each
eare a hearer: that great Baby you see there, is not yet
out of his swathing clouts

   Rosin. Happily he's the second time come to them: for
they say, an old man is twice a childe

   Ham. I will Prophesie. Hee comes to tell me of the
Players. Mark it, you say right Sir: for a Monday morning
'twas so indeed

   Pol. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you

   Ham. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you.
When Rossius an Actor in Rome-
  Pol. The Actors are come hither my Lord

   Ham. Buzze, buzze

   Pol. Vpon mine Honor

   Ham. Then can each Actor on his Asse-
  Polon. The best Actors in the world, either for Tragedie,
Comedie, Historie, Pastorall:
Pastoricall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall:
Tragicall-Historicall: Tragicall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall:
Scene indiuidible: or Poem
vnlimited. Seneca cannot be too heauy, nor Plautus
too light, for the law of Writ, and the Liberty. These are
the onely men

   Ham. O Iephta Iudge of Israel, what a Treasure had'st
thou?
  Pol. What a Treasure had he, my Lord?
  Ham. Why one faire Daughter, and no more,
The which he loued passing well

   Pol. Still on my Daughter

   Ham. Am I not i'th' right old Iephta?
  Polon. If you call me Iephta my Lord, I haue a daughter
that I loue passing well

   Ham. Nay that followes not

   Polon. What followes then, my Lord?
  Ha. Why, As by lot, God wot: and then you know, It
came to passe, as most like it was: The first rowe of the
Pons Chanson will shew you more. For looke where my
Abridgements come.
Enter foure or fiue Players.

Y'are welcome Masters, welcome all. I am glad to see
thee well: Welcome good Friends. Oh my olde Friend?
Thy face is valiant since I saw thee last: Com'st thou to
beard me in Denmarke? What, my yong Lady and Mistris?
Byrlady your Ladiship is neerer Heauen then when
I saw you last, by the altitude of a Choppine. Pray God
your voice like a peece of vncurrant Gold be not crack'd
within the ring. Masters, you are all welcome: wee'l e'ne
to't like French Faulconers, flie at any thing we see: wee'l
haue a Speech straight. Come giue vs a tast of your quality:
come, a passionate speech

   1.Play. What speech, my Lord?
  Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was
neuer Acted: or if it was, not aboue once, for the Play I
remember pleas'd not the Million, 'twas Cauiarie to the
Generall: but it was (as I receiu'd it, and others, whose
iudgement in such matters, cried in the top of mine) an
excellent Play; well digested in the Scoenes, set downe
with as much modestie, as cunning. I remember one said,
there was no Sallets in the lines, to make the matter sauory;
nor no matter in the phrase, that might indite the
Author of affectation, but cal'd it an honest method. One
cheefe Speech in it, I cheefely lou'd, 'twas Aeneas Tale
to Dido, and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks
of Priams slaughter. If it liue in your memory, begin at
this Line, let me see, let me see: The rugged Pyrrhus like
th'Hyrcanian Beast. It is not so: it begins with Pyrrhus
The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose Sable Armes
Blacke as his purpose, did the night resemble
When he lay couched in the Ominous Horse,
Hath now this dread and blacke Complexion smear'd
With Heraldry more dismall: Head to foote
Now is he to take Geulles, horridly Trick'd
With blood of Fathers, Mothers, Daughters, Sonnes,
Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets,
That lend a tyrannous, and damned light
To their vilde Murthers, roasted in wrath and fire,
And thus o're-sized with coagulate gore,
With eyes like Carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Olde Grandsire Priam seekes

   Pol. Fore God, my Lord, well spoken, with good accent,
and good discretion

   1.Player. Anon he findes him,
Striking too short at Greekes. His anticke Sword,
Rebellious to his Arme, lyes where it falles
Repugnant to command: vnequall match,
Pyrrhus at Priam driues, in Rage strikes wide:
But with the whiffe and winde of his fell Sword,
Th' vnnerued Father fals. Then senselesse Illium,
Seeming to feele his blow, with flaming top
Stoopes to his Bace, and with a hideous crash
Takes Prisoner Pyrrhus eare. For loe, his Sword
Which was declining on the Milkie head
Of Reuerend Priam, seem'd i'th' Ayre to sticke:
So as a painted Tyrant Pyrrhus stood,
And like a Newtrall to his will and matter, did nothing.
But as we often see against some storme,
A silence in the Heauens, the Racke stand still,
The bold windes speechlesse, and the Orbe below
As hush as death: Anon the dreadfull Thunder
Doth rend the Region. So after Pyrrhus pause,
A rowsed Vengeance sets him new a-worke,
And neuer did the Cyclops hammers fall
On Mars his Armours, forg'd for proofe Eterne,
With lesse remorse then Pyrrhus bleeding sword
Now falles on Priam.
Out, out, thou Strumpet-Fortune, all you Gods,
In generall Synod take away her power:
Breake all the Spokes and Fallies from her wheele,
And boule the round Naue downe the hill of Heauen,
As low as to the Fiends

   Pol. This is too long

   Ham. It shall to'th Barbars, with your beard. Prythee
say on: He's for a Iigge, or a tale of Baudry, or hee
sleepes. Say on; come to Hecuba

   1.Play. But who, O who, had seen the inobled Queen

   Ham. The inobled Queene?
  Pol. That's good: Inobled Queene is good

   1.Play. Run bare-foot vp and downe,
Threatning the flame
With Bisson Rheume: A clout about that head,
Where late the Diadem stood, and for a Robe
About her lanke and all ore-teamed Loines,
A blanket in th' Alarum of feare caught vp.
Who this had seene, with tongue in Venome steep'd,
'Gainst Fortunes State, would Treason haue pronounc'd?
But if the Gods themselues did see her then,
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
In mincing with his Sword her Husbands limbes,
The instant Burst of Clamour that she made
(Vnlesse things mortall moue them not at all)
Would haue made milche the Burning eyes of Heauen,
And passion in the Gods

   Pol. Looke where he ha's not turn'd his colour, and
ha's teares in's eyes. Pray you no more

   Ham. 'Tis well, Ile haue thee speake out the rest,
soone. Good my Lord, will you see the Players wel bestow'd.
Do ye heare, let them be well vs'd: for they are
the Abstracts and breefe Chronicles of the time. After
your death, you were better haue a bad Epitaph, then
their ill report while you liued

   Pol. My Lord, I will vse them according to their desart

   Ham. Gods bodykins man, better. Vse euerie man
after his desart, and who should scape whipping: vse
them after your own Honor and Dignity. The lesse they
deserue, the more merit is in your bountie. Take them
in

   Pol. Come sirs.

Exit Polon.

  Ham. Follow him Friends: wee'l heare a play to morrow.
Dost thou heare me old Friend, can you play the
murther of Gonzago?
  Play. I my Lord

   Ham. Wee'l ha't to morrow night. You could for a
need study a speech of some dosen or sixteene lines, which
I would set downe, and insert in't? Could ye not?
  Play. I my Lord

   Ham. Very well. Follow that Lord, and looke you
mock him not. My good Friends, Ile leaue you til night
you are welcome to Elsonower?
  Rosin. Good my Lord.

Exeunt.

Manet Hamlet.

  Ham. I so, God buy'ye: Now I am alone.
Oh what a Rogue and Pesant slaue am I?
Is it not monstrous that this Player heere,
But in a Fixion, in a dreame of Passion,
Could force his soule so to his whole conceit,
That from her working, all his visage warm'd;
Teares in his eyes, distraction in's Aspect,
A broken voyce, and his whole Function suiting
With Formes, to his Conceit? And all for nothing?
For Hecuba?
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weepe for her? What would he doe,
Had he the Motiue and the Cue for passion
That I haue? He would drowne the Stage with teares,
And cleaue the generall eare with horrid speech:
Make mad the guilty, and apale the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed,
The very faculty of Eyes and Eares. Yet I,
A dull and muddy-metled Rascall, peake
Like Iohn a-dreames, vnpregnant of my cause,
And can say nothing: No, not for a King,
Vpon whose property, and most deere life,
A damn'd defeate was made. Am I a Coward?
Who calles me Villaine? breakes my pate a-crosse?
Pluckes off my Beard, and blowes it in my face?
Tweakes me by'th' Nose? giues me the Lye i'th' Throate,
As deepe as to the Lungs? Who does me this?
Ha? Why I should take it: for it cannot be,
But I am Pigeon-Liuer'd, and lacke Gall
To make Oppression bitter, or ere this,
I should haue fatted all the Region Kites
With this Slaues Offall, bloudy: a Bawdy villaine,
Remorselesse, Treacherous, Letcherous, kindles villaine!
Oh Vengeance!
Who? What an Asse am I? I sure, this is most braue,
That I, the Sonne of the Deere murthered,
Prompted to my Reuenge by Heauen, and Hell,
Must (like a Whore) vnpacke my heart with words,
And fall a Cursing like a very Drab.
A Scullion? Fye vpon't: Foh. About my Braine.
I haue heard, that guilty Creatures sitting at a Play,
Haue by the very cunning of the Scoene,
Bene strooke so to the soule, that presently
They haue proclaim'd their Malefactions.
For Murther, though it haue no tongue, will speake
With most myraculous Organ. Ile haue these Players,
Play something like the murder of my Father,
Before mine Vnkle. Ile obserue his lookes,
Ile rent him to the quicke: If he but blench
I know my course. The Spirit that I haue seene
May be the Diuell, and the Diuel hath power
T' assume a pleasing shape, yea and perhaps
Out of my Weaknesse, and my Melancholly,
As he is very potent with such Spirits,
Abuses me to damne me. Ile haue grounds
More Relatiue then this: The Play's the thing,
Wherein Ile catch the Conscience of the King.

Exit

Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance,
Guildenstern, and
Lords.

  King. And can you by no drift of circumstance
Get from him why he puts on this Confusion:
Grating so harshly all his dayes of quiet
With turbulent and dangerous Lunacy

   Rosin. He does confesse he feeles himselfe distracted,
But from what cause he will by no meanes speake

   Guil. Nor do we finde him forward to be sounded,
But with a crafty Madnesse keepes aloofe:
When we would bring him on to some Confession
Of his true state

   Qu. Did he receiue you well?
  Rosin. Most like a Gentleman

   Guild. But with much forcing of his disposition

   Rosin. Niggard of question, but of our demands
Most free in his reply

   Qu. Did you assay him to any pastime?
  Rosin. Madam, it so fell out, that certaine Players
We ore-wrought on the way: of these we told him,
And there did seeme in him a kinde of ioy
To heare of it: They are about the Court,
And (as I thinke) they haue already order
This night to play before him

   Pol. 'Tis most true:
And he beseech'd me to intreate your Maiesties
To heare, and see the matter

   King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me
To heare him so inclin'd. Good Gentlemen,
Giue him a further edge, and driue his purpose on
To these delights

   Rosin. We shall my Lord.

Exeunt.

  King. Sweet Gertrude leaue vs too,
For we haue closely sent for Hamlet hither,
That he, as 'twere by accident, may there
Affront Ophelia. Her Father, and my selfe (lawful espials)
Will so bestow our selues, that seeing vnseene
We may of their encounter frankely iudge,
And gather by him, as he is behaued,
If't be th' affliction of his loue, or no.
That thus he suffers for

   Qu. I shall obey you,
And for your part Ophelia, I do wish
That your good Beauties be the happy cause
Of Hamlets wildenesse: so shall I hope your Vertues
Will bring him to his wonted way againe,
To both your Honors

   Ophe. Madam, I wish it may

   Pol. Ophelia, walke you heere. Gracious so please ye
We will bestow our selues: Reade on this booke,
That shew of such an exercise may colour
Your lonelinesse. We are oft too blame in this,
'Tis too much prou'd, that with Deuotions visage,
And pious Action, we do surge o're
The diuell himselfe

   King. Oh 'tis true:
How smart a lash that speech doth giue my Conscience?
The Harlots Cheeke beautied with plaist'ring Art
Is not more vgly to the thing that helpes it,
Then is my deede, to my most painted word.
Oh heauie burthen!
  Pol. I heare him comming, let's withdraw my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet.

  Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the Question:
Whether 'tis Nobler in the minde to suffer
The Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune,
Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepe
No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end
The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes
That Flesh is heyre too? 'Tis a consummation
Deuoutly to be wish'd. To dye to sleepe,
To sleepe, perchance to Dreame; I, there's the rub,
For in that sleepe of death, what dreames may come,
When we haue shuffel'd off this mortall coile,
Must giue vs pawse. There's the respect
That makes Calamity of so long life:
For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time,
The Oppressors wrong, the poore mans Contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd Loue, the Lawes delay,
The insolence of Office, and the Spurnes
That patient merit of the vnworthy takes,
When he himselfe might his Quietus make
With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare
To grunt and sweat vnder a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The vndiscouered Countrey, from whose Borne
No Traueller returnes, Puzels the will,
And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue,
Then flye to others that we know not of.
Thus Conscience does make Cowards of vs all,
And thus the Natiue hew of Resolution
Is sicklied o're, with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprizes of great pith and moment,
With this regard their Currants turne away,
And loose the name of Action. Soft you now,
The faire Ophelia? Nimph, in thy Orizons
Be all my sinnes remembred

   Ophe. Good my Lord,
How does your Honor for this many a day?
  Ham. I humbly thanke you: well, well, well

   Ophe. My Lord, I haue Remembrances of yours,
That I haue longed long to re-deliuer.
I pray you now, receiue them

   Ham. No, no, I neuer gaue you ought

   Ophe. My honor'd Lord, I know right well you did,
And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd,
As made the things more rich, then perfume left:
Take these againe, for to the Noble minde
Rich gifts wax poore, when giuers proue vnkinde.
There my Lord

   Ham. Ha, ha: Are you honest?
  Ophe. My Lord

   Ham. Are you faire?
  Ophe. What meanes your Lordship?
  Ham. That if you be honest and faire, your Honesty
should admit no discourse to your Beautie

   Ophe. Could Beautie my Lord, haue better Comerce
then your Honestie?
  Ham. I trulie: for the power of Beautie, will sooner
transforme Honestie from what is, to a Bawd, then the
force of Honestie can translate Beautie into his likenesse.
This was sometime a Paradox, but now the time giues it
proofe. I did loue you once

   Ophe. Indeed my Lord, you made me beleeue so

   Ham. You should not haue beleeued me. For vertue
cannot so innocculate our old stocke, but we shall rellish
of it. I loued you not

   Ophe. I was the more deceiued

   Ham. Get thee to a Nunnerie. Why would'st thou
be a breeder of Sinners? I am my selfe indifferent honest,
but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better
my Mother had not borne me. I am very prowd, reuengefull,
Ambitious, with more offences at my becke,
then I haue thoughts to put them in imagination, to giue
them shape, or time to acte them in. What should such
Fellowes as I do, crawling betweene Heauen and Earth.
We are arrant Knaues all, beleeue none of vs. Goe thy
wayes to a Nunnery. Where's your Father?
  Ophe. At home, my Lord

   Ham. Let the doores be shut vpon him, that he may
play the Foole no way, but in's owne house. Farewell

   Ophe. O helpe him, you sweet Heauens

   Ham. If thou doest Marry, Ile giue thee this Plague
for thy Dowrie. Be thou as chast as Ice, as pure as Snow,
thou shalt not escape Calumny. Get thee to a Nunnery.
Go, Farewell. Or if thou wilt needs Marry, marry a fool:
for Wise men know well enough, what monsters you
make of them. To a Nunnery go, and quickly too. Farwell

   Ophe. O heauenly Powers, restore him

   Ham. I haue heard of your pratlings too wel enough.
God has giuen you one pace, and you make your selfe another:
you gidge, you amble, and you lispe, and nickname
Gods creatures, and make your Wantonnesse, your Ignorance.
Go too, Ile no more on't, it hath made me mad.
I say, we will haue no more Marriages. Those that are
married already, all but one shall liue, the rest shall keep
as they are. To a Nunnery, go.

Exit Hamlet.

  Ophe. O what a Noble minde is heere o're-throwne?
The Courtiers, Soldiers, Schollers: Eye, tongue, sword,
Th' expectansie and Rose of the faire State,
The glasse of Fashion, and the mould of Forme,
Th' obseru'd of all Obseruers, quite, quite downe.
Haue I of Ladies most deiect and wretched,
That suck'd the Honie of his Musicke Vowes:
Now see that Noble, and most Soueraigne Reason,
Like sweet Bels iangled out of tune, and harsh,
That vnmatch'd Forme and Feature of blowne youth,
Blasted with extasie. Oh woe is me,
T'haue seene what I haue seene: see what I see.
Enter King, and Polonius.

  King. Loue? His affections do not that way tend,
Nor what he spake, though it lack'd Forme a little,
Was not like Madnesse. There's something in his soule?
O're which his Melancholly sits on brood,
And I do doubt the hatch, and the disclose
Will be some danger, which to preuent
I haue in quicke determination
Thus set it downe. He shall with speed to England
For the demand of our neglected Tribute:
Haply the Seas and Countries different
With variable Obiects, shall expell
This something setled matter in his heart:
Whereon his Braines still beating, puts him thus
From fashion of himselfe. What thinke you on't?
  Pol. It shall do well. But yet do I beleeue
The Origin and Commencement of this greefe
Sprung from neglected loue. How now Ophelia?
You neede not tell vs, what Lord Hamlet saide,
We heard it all. My Lord, do as you please,
But if you hold it fit after the Play,
Let his Queene Mother all alone intreat him
To shew his Greefes: let her be round with him,
And Ile be plac'd so, please you in the eare
Of all their Conference. If she finde him not,
To England send him: Or confine him where
Your wisedome best shall thinke

   King. It shall be so:
Madnesse in great Ones, must not vnwatch'd go.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet, and two or three of the Players.

  Ham. Speake the Speech I pray you, as I pronounc'd
it to you trippingly on the Tongue: But if you mouth it,
as many of your Players do, I had as liue the Town-Cryer
had spoke my Lines: Nor do not saw the Ayre too much
your hand thus, but vse all gently; for in the verie Torrent,
Tempest, and (as I say) the Whirle-winde of
Passion, you must acquire and beget a Temperance that
may giue it Smoothnesse. O it offends mee to the Soule,
to see a robustious Pery-wig-pated Fellow, teare a Passion
to tatters, to verie ragges, to split the eares of the
Groundlings: who (for the most part) are capeable of
nothing, but inexplicable dumbe shewes, & noise: I could
haue such a Fellow whipt for o're-doing Termagant: it
outHerod's Herod. Pray you auoid it

   Player. I warrant your Honor

   Ham. Be not too tame neyther: but let your owne
Discretion be your Tutor. Sute the Action to the Word,
the Word to the Action, with this speciall obseruance:
That you ore-stop not the modestie of Nature; for any
thing so ouer-done, is fro[m] the purpose of Playing, whose
end both at the first and now, was and is, to hold as 'twer
the Mirrour vp to Nature; to shew Vertue her owne
Feature, Scorne her owne Image, and the verie Age and
Bodie of the Time, his forme and pressure. Now, this
ouer-done, or come tardie off, though it make the vnskilfull
laugh, cannot but make the Iudicious greeue; The
censure of the which One, must in your allowance o'reway
a whole Theater of Others. Oh, there bee Players
that I haue seene Play, and heard others praise, and that
highly (not to speake it prophanely) that neyther hauing
the accent of Christians, nor the gate of Christian, Pagan,
or Norman, haue so strutted and bellowed, that I haue
thought some of Natures Iouerney-men had made men,
and not made them well, they imitated Humanity so abhominably

   Play. I hope we haue reform'd that indifferently with
vs, Sir

   Ham. O reforme it altogether. And let those that
play your Clownes, speake no more then is set downe for
them. For there be of them, that will themselues laugh,
to set on some quantitie of barren Spectators to laugh
too, though in the meane time, some necessary Question
of the Play be then to be considered: that's Villanous, &
shewes a most pittifull Ambition in the Foole that vses
it. Go make you readie.

Exit Players.

Enter Polonius, Rosincrance, and Guildensterne.

How now my Lord,
Will the King heare this peece of Worke?
  Pol. And the Queene too, and that presently

   Ham. Bid the Players make hast.

Exit Polonius.

Will you two helpe to hasten them?
  Both. We will my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Horatio.

  Ham. What hoa, Horatio?
  Hora. Heere sweet Lord, at your Seruice

   Ham. Horatio, thou art eene as iust a man
As ere my Conuersation coap'd withall

   Hora. O my deere Lord

   Ham. Nay, do not thinke I flatter:
For what aduancement may I hope from thee,
That no Reuennew hast, but thy good spirits
To feed & cloath thee. Why shold the poor be flatter'd?
No, let the Candied tongue, like absurd pompe,
And crooke the pregnant Hindges of the knee,
Where thrift may follow faining? Dost thou heare,
Since my deere Soule was Mistris of my choyse,
And could of men distinguish, her election
Hath seal'd thee for her selfe. For thou hast bene
As one in suffering all, that suffers nothing.
A man that Fortunes buffets, and Rewards
Hath 'tane with equall Thankes. And blest are those,
Whose Blood and Iudgement are so well co-mingled,
That they are not a Pipe for Fortunes finger.
To sound what stop she please. Giue me that man,
That is not Passions Slaue, and I will weare him
In my hearts Core. I, in my Heart of heart,
As I do thee. Something too much of this.
There is a Play to night to before the King.
One Scoene of it comes neere the Circumstance
Which I haue told thee, of my Fathers death.
I prythee, when thou see'st that Acte a-foot,
Euen with the verie Comment of my Soule
Obserue mine Vnkle: If his occulted guilt,
Do not it selfe vnkennell in one speech,
It is a damned Ghost that we haue seene:
And my Imaginations are as foule
As Vulcans Stythe. Giue him needfull note,
For I mine eyes will riuet to his Face:
And after we will both our iudgements ioyne,
To censure of his seeming

   Hora. Well my Lord.
If he steale ought the whil'st this Play is Playing,
And scape detecting, I will pay the Theft.
Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance,
Guildensterne, and
other Lords attendant with his Guard carrying Torches. Danish
March. Sound
a Flourish.

  Ham. They are comming to the Play: I must be idle.
Get you a place

   King. How fares our Cosin Hamlet?
  Ham. Excellent Ifaith, of the Camelions dish: I eate
the Ayre promise-cramm'd, you cannot feed Capons so

   King. I haue nothing with this answer Hamlet, these
words are not mine

   Ham. No, nor mine. Now my Lord, you plaid once
i'th' Vniuersity, you say?
  Polon. That I did my Lord, and was accounted a good
Actor

   Ham. And what did you enact?
  Pol. I did enact Iulius Caesar, I was kill'd i'th' Capitol:
Brutus kill'd me

   Ham. It was a bruite part of him, to kill so Capitall a
Calfe there. Be the Players ready?
  Rosin. I my Lord, they stay vpon your patience

   Qu. Come hither my good Hamlet, sit by me

   Ha. No good Mother, here's Mettle more attractiue

   Pol. Oh ho, do you marke that?
  Ham. Ladie, shall I lye in your Lap?
  Ophe. No my Lord

   Ham. I meane, my Head vpon your Lap?
  Ophe. I my Lord

   Ham. Do you thinke I meant Country matters?
  Ophe. I thinke nothing, my Lord

   Ham. That's a faire thought to ly betweene Maids legs
  Ophe. What is my Lord?
  Ham. Nothing

   Ophe. You are merrie, my Lord?
  Ham. Who I?
  Ophe. I my Lord

   Ham. Oh God, your onely Iigge-maker: what should
a man do, but be merrie. For looke you how cheerefully
my Mother lookes, and my Father dyed within's two
Houres

   Ophe. Nay, 'tis twice two moneths, my Lord

   Ham. So long? Nay then let the Diuel weare blacke,
for Ile haue a suite of Sables. Oh Heauens! dye two moneths
ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's hope, a
great mans Memorie, may out-liue his life halfe a yeare:
But byrlady he must builde Churches then: or else shall
he suffer not thinking on, with the Hoby-horsse, whose
Epitaph is, For o, For o, the Hoby-horse is forgot.

Hoboyes play. The dumbe shew enters.

Enter a King and Queene, very louingly; the Queene embracing
him. She
kneeles, and makes shew of Protestation vnto him. He takes her
vp, and
declines his head vpon her neck. Layes him downe vpon a Banke
of Flowers.
She seeing him a-sleepe, leaues him. Anon comes in a Fellow,
takes off his
Crowne, kisses it, and powres poyson in the Kings eares, and
Exits. The
Queene returnes, findes the King dead, and makes passionate
Action. The
Poysoner, with some two or three Mutes comes in againe, seeming
to lament
with her. The dead body is carried away: The Poysoner Wooes the
Queene with
Gifts, she seemes loath and vnwilling awhile, but in the end,
accepts his
loue.

Exeunt.

  Ophe. What meanes this, my Lord?
  Ham. Marry this is Miching Malicho, that meanes
Mischeefe

   Ophe. Belike this shew imports the Argument of the
Play?
  Ham. We shall know by these Fellowes: the Players
cannot keepe counsell, they'l tell all

   Ophe. Will they tell vs what this shew meant?
  Ham. I, or any shew that you'l shew him. Bee not
you asham'd to shew, hee'l not shame to tell you what it
meanes

   Ophe. You are naught, you are naught, Ile marke the
Play.
Enter Prologue.

For vs, and for our Tragedie,
Heere stooping to your Clemencie:
We begge your hearing Patientlie

   Ham. Is this a Prologue, or the Poesie of a Ring?
  Ophe. 'Tis briefe my Lord

   Ham. As Womans loue.
Enter King and his Queene.

  King. Full thirtie times hath Phoebus Cart gon round,
Neptunes salt Wash, and Tellus Orbed ground:
And thirtie dozen Moones with borrowed sheene,
About the World haue times twelue thirties beene,
Since loue our hearts, and Hymen did our hands
Vnite comutuall, in most sacred Bands

   Bap. So many iournies may the Sunne and Moone
Make vs againe count o're, ere loue be done.
But woe is me, you are so sicke of late,
So farre from cheere, and from your former state,
That I distrust you: yet though I distrust,
Discomfort you (my Lord) it nothing must:
For womens Feare and Loue, holds quantitie,
In neither ought, or in extremity:
Now what my loue is, proofe hath made you know,
And as my Loue is siz'd, my Feare is so

   King. Faith I must leaue thee Loue, and shortly too:
My operant Powers my Functions leaue to do:
And thou shalt liue in this faire world behinde,
Honour'd, belou'd, and haply, one as kinde.
For Husband shalt thou-
  Bap. Oh confound the rest:
Such Loue, must needs be Treason in my brest:
In second Husband, let me be accurst,
None wed the second, but who kill'd the first

   Ham. Wormwood, Wormwood

   Bapt. The instances that second Marriage moue,
Are base respects of Thrift, but none of Loue.
A second time, I kill my Husband dead,
When second Husband kisses me in Bed

   King. I do beleeue you. Think what now you speak:
But what we do determine, oft we breake:
Purpose is but the slaue to Memorie,
Of violent Birth, but poore validitie:
Which now like Fruite vnripe stickes on the Tree,
But fall vnshaken, when they mellow bee.
Most necessary 'tis, that we forget
To pay our selues, what to our selues is debt:
What to our selues in passion we propose,
The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
The violence of other Greefe or Ioy,
Their owne ennactors with themselues destroy:
Where Ioy most Reuels, Greefe doth most lament;
Greefe ioyes, Ioy greeues on slender accident.
This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange
That euen our Loues should with our Fortunes change.
For 'tis a question left vs yet to proue,
Whether Loue lead Fortune, or else Fortune Loue.
The great man downe, you marke his fauourites flies,
The poore aduanc'd, makes Friends of Enemies:
And hitherto doth Loue on Fortune tend,
For who not needs, shall neuer lacke a Frend:
And who in want a hollow Friend doth try,
Directly seasons him his Enemie.
But orderly to end, where I begun,
Our Willes and Fates do so contrary run,
That our Deuices still are ouerthrowne,
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our owne.
So thinke thou wilt no second Husband wed.
But die thy thoughts, when thy first Lord is dead

   Bap. Nor Earth to giue me food, nor Heauen light,
Sport and repose locke from me day and night:
Each opposite that blankes the face of ioy,
Meet what I would haue well, and it destroy:
Both heere, and hence, pursue me lasting strife,
If once a Widdow, euer I be Wife

   Ham. If she should breake it now

   King. 'Tis deepely sworne:
Sweet, leaue me heere a while,
My spirits grow dull, and faine I would beguile
The tedious day with sleepe

   Qu. Sleepe rocke thy Braine,

Sleepes

And neuer come mischance betweene vs twaine.

Exit

  Ham. Madam, how like you this Play?
  Qu. The Lady protests to much me thinkes

   Ham. Oh but shee'l keepe her word

   King. Haue you heard the Argument, is there no Offence
in't?
  Ham. No, no, they do but iest, poyson in iest, no Offence
i'th' 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 Dukes name, his wife Baptista: you shall see
anon: 'tis a knauish peece of worke: But what o'that?
Your Maiestie, and wee that haue free soules, it touches
vs not: let the gall'd iade winch: our withers are vnrung.
Enter Lucianus.

This is one Lucianus nephew to the King

   Ophe. You are a good Chorus, my Lord

   Ham. I could interpret betweene you and your loue:
if I could see the Puppets dallying

   Ophe. You are keene my Lord, you are keene

   Ham. It would cost you a groaning, to take off my
edge

   Ophe. Still better and worse

   Ham. So you mistake Husbands.
Begin Murderer. Pox, leaue thy damnable Faces, and
begin. Come, the croaking Rauen doth bellow for Reuenge

   Lucian. Thoughts blacke, hands apt,
Drugges fit, and Time agreeing:
Confederate season, else, no Creature seeing:
Thou mixture ranke, of Midnight Weeds collected,
With Hecats Ban, thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thy naturall Magicke, and dire propertie,
On wholsome life, vsurpe immediately.

Powres the poyson in his eares.

  Ham. He poysons him i'th' Garden for's estate: His
name's Gonzago: the Story is extant and writ in choyce
Italian. You shall see anon how the Murtherer gets the
loue of Gonzago's wife

   Ophe. The King rises

   Ham. What, frighted with false fire

   Qu. How fares my Lord?
  Pol. Giue o're the Play

   King. Giue me some Light. Away

   All. Lights, Lights, Lights.

Exeunt.

Manet Hamlet & Horatio.

  Ham. Why let the strucken Deere go weepe,
The Hart vngalled play:
For some must watch, while some must sleepe;
So runnes the world away.
Would not this Sir, and a Forrest of Feathers, if the rest of
my Fortunes turne Turke with me; with two Prouinciall
Roses on my rac'd Shooes, get me a Fellowship in a crie
of Players sir

   Hor. Halfe a share

   Ham. A whole one I,
For thou dost know: Oh Damon deere,
This Realme dismantled was of Ioue himselfe,
And now reignes heere.
A verie verie Paiocke

   Hora. You might haue Rim'd

   Ham. Oh good Horatio, Ile take the Ghosts word for
a thousand pound. Did'st perceiue?
  Hora. Verie well my Lord

   Ham. Vpon the talke of the poysoning?
  Hora. I did verie well note him.
Enter Rosincrance and Guildensterne.

  Ham. Oh, ha? Come some Musick. Come y Recorders:
For if the King like not the Comedie,
Why then belike he likes it not perdie.
Come some Musicke

   Guild. Good my Lord, vouchsafe me a word with you

   Ham. Sir, a whole History

   Guild. The King, sir

   Ham. I sir, what of him?
  Guild. Is in his retyrement, maruellous distemper'd

   Ham. With drinke Sir?
  Guild. No my Lord, rather with choller

   Ham. Your wisedome should shew it selfe more richer,
to signifie this to his Doctor: for for me to put him
to his Purgation, would perhaps plundge him into farre
more Choller

   Guild. Good my Lord put your discourse into some
frame, and start not so wildely from my affayre

   Ham. I am tame Sir, pronounce

   Guild. The Queene your Mother, in most great affliction
of spirit, hath sent me to you

   Ham. You are welcome

   Guild. Nay, good my Lord, this courtesie is not of
the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholsome
answer, I will doe your Mothers command'ment:
if not, your pardon, and my returne shall bee the end of
my Businesse

   Ham. Sir, I cannot

   Guild. What, my Lord?
  Ham. Make you a wholsome answere: my wits diseas'd.
But sir, such answers as I can make, you shal command:
or rather you say, my Mother: therfore no more
but to the matter. My Mother you say

   Rosin. Then thus she sayes: your behauior hath stroke
her into amazement, and admiration

   Ham. Oh wonderfull Sonne, that can so astonish a
Mother. But is there no sequell at the heeles of this Mothers
admiration?
  Rosin. She desires to speake with you in her Closset,
ere you go to bed

   Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our Mother.
Haue you any further Trade with vs?
  Rosin. My Lord, you once did loue me

   Ham. So I do still, by these pickers and stealers

   Rosin. Good my Lord, what is your cause of distemper?
You do freely barre the doore of your owne Libertie,
if you deny your greefes to your Friend

   Ham. Sir I lacke Aduancement

   Rosin. How can that be, when you haue the voyce of
the King himselfe, for your Succession in Denmarke?
  Ham. I, but while the grasse growes, the Prouerbe is
something musty.
Enter one with a Recorder.

O the Recorder. Let me see, to withdraw with you, why
do you go about to recouer the winde of mee, as if you
would driue me into a toyle?
  Guild. O my Lord, if my Dutie be too bold, my loue
is too vnmannerly

   Ham. I do not well vnderstand that. Will you play
vpon this Pipe?
  Guild. My Lord, I cannot

   Ham. I pray you

   Guild. Beleeue me, I cannot

   Ham. I do beseech you

   Guild. I know no touch of it, my Lord

   Ham. 'Tis as easie as lying: gouerne these Ventiges
with your finger and thumbe, giue it breath with your
mouth, and it will discourse most excellent Musicke.
Looke you, these are the stoppes

   Guild. But these cannot I command to any vtterance
of hermony, I haue not the skill

   Ham. Why looke you now, how vnworthy a thing
you make of me: you would play vpon mee; you would
seeme to know my stops: you would pluck out the heart
of my Mysterie; you would sound mee from my lowest
Note, to the top of my Compasse: and there is much Musicke,
excellent Voice, in this little Organe, yet cannot
you make it. Why do you thinke, that I am easier to bee
plaid on, then a Pipe? Call me what Instrument you will,
though you can fret me, you cannot play vpon me. God
blesse you Sir.
Enter Polonius.

  Polon. My Lord; the Queene would speak with you,
and presently

   Ham. Do you see that Clowd? that's almost in shape
like a Camell

   Polon. By'th' Masse, and it's like a Camell indeed

   Ham. Me thinkes it is like a Weazell

   Polon. It is back'd like a Weazell

   Ham. Or like a Whale?
  Polon. Verie like a Whale

   Ham. Then will I come to my Mother, by and by:
They foole me to the top of my bent.
I will come by and by

   Polon. I will say so.
Enter.

  Ham. By and by, is easily said. Leaue me Friends:
'Tis now the verie witching time of night,
When Churchyards yawne, and Hell it selfe breaths out
Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood,
And do such bitter businesse as the day
Would quake to looke on. Soft now, to my Mother:
Oh Heart, loose not thy Nature; let not euer
The Soule of Nero, enter this firme bosome:
Let me be cruell, not vnnaturall,
I will speake Daggers to her, but vse none:
My Tongue and Soule in this be Hypocrites.
How in my words someuer she be shent,
To giue them Seales, neuer my Soule consent.
Enter King, Rosincrance, and Guildensterne.

  King. I like him not, nor stands it safe with vs,
To let his madnesse range. Therefore prepare you,
I your Commission will forthwith dispatch,
And he to England shall along with you:
The termes of our estate, may not endure
Hazard so dangerous as doth hourely grow
Out of his Lunacies

   Guild. We will our selues prouide:
Most holie and Religious feare it is
To keepe those many many bodies safe
That liue and feede vpon your Maiestie

   Rosin. The single
And peculiar life is bound
With all the strength and Armour of the minde,
To keepe it selfe from noyance: but much more,
That Spirit, vpon whose spirit depends and rests
The liues of many, the cease of Maiestie
Dies not alone; but like a Gulfe doth draw
What's neere it, with it. It is a massie wheele
Fixt on the Somnet of the highest Mount.
To whose huge Spoakes, ten thousand lesser things
Are mortiz'd and adioyn'd: which when it falles,
Each small annexment, pettie consequence
Attends the boystrous Ruine. Neuer alone
Did the King sighe, but with a generall grone