King. It fhall be fo:

Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. [Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet, and two or three of the Players.

But

Ham. "Speak the fpeech, I pray you, as I pro"nounce'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue. "if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as "lieve the town-crier had spoke my lines. And do "not faw the air too much with your hand thus, but "ufe all gently; for in the very torrent, tempeft, and, "as I may fay, whirlwind of your paffion, you must

acquire and beget a temperance that may give it "fmoothnefs. Oh, it offends me to the foul, to hear "a robufteous periwig pated fellow tear a paffion to "tatters, to very rags, to fplit the ears of the groundlings; who (for the most part) are capable of nothing, but inexplicable dumb fhews and noife: I "could have fuch a fellow whipp'd for o'erdoing ter magant; it out-herods Herod. Pray you avoid it. Play. I warrant your Honour.

Ham. "Be not too tame neither; but let your own "difcretion be your tutor. Suit the action to the word, "the word to the action, with this special obfervance, "that you o'erftep not the modefty of nature; for any thing fo overdone is from the purpose of playing; "whofe end, both at the first and now, was and is, to "hold as 'twere the mirror up to nature; to fhew vir"tue her own feature, fcorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time, his form and preffure*. Now, this overdone, or come tardy of, tho' it make "the unfkilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve. the cenfure of one of which muft in your allow

ancc o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. Oh, there "be players that I have feen play, and heard others "praife, and that highly, (not to speak it profanely),

that [neither having the accent of Chriftian, nor "the gate of Christian, Pagan, nor man †] have fo "ftrutted and bellow'd, that I have thought fome of "nature's journeymen had made men, and not made "them well; they imitated humanity fo abominably." *proffure, for impression.

There words are a foolish interpolation.

Play.

Play. I hope we have reform'd that indifferently with us.

Ham. " Oh, reform it altogether; and let those that play your clowns, fpeak no more than is fet down "for them: for there be of them that will themselves "laugh, to fet on fome quantity of barren spectators "to laugh too; though, in the mean time, fome neceffary queftion of the play be then to be confidered: "that's villanous, and fhews a most pitiful ambition. "in the fool that ufes it. Go make you ready." [Exeunt Players.

Enter Polonius, Rofincrantz, and Guildenstern.

How now, my Lord? will the King hear this piece of work?

Pol. And the Queen too, and that prefently. Ham. Bid the players make hafte. [Exit Polonius. Will you two help to haften them?

Both. We will, my Lord.

Ham. What, ho, Horatio!

Enter Horatio to Hamlet.

Her. Here, fweet Lord, at your fervice. Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man As e'er my converfation cop'd withal.

Her. Oh, my dear Lord,

Ham. " Nay, do not think I flatter:

[Exeunt.

"For what advancement may I hope from thee, "That no revenue halt, but thy good fpirits,

"To feed and clothe thee? Should the poor be flat-"No, let the candied tongue lick abfurd pomp, [ter'd? "And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, "Where thrift may follow fawning Dot thou hear? "Since my dear foul was miftrefs of her choice, "And could of men diftinguish, her election "Hath feal'd thee for herfelf. For thou hast been "As one, in fuffering all, that fuffers nothing: "A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards "Haft ta'en with equal thanks. And blefs'd are those, "Whofe blood and judgment are fo well comingled,,

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"That

"That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger,
"To found what ftop the pleafe. Give me that man
"That is not Paffion's flave, and I will wear him
"In my heart's core; ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee. Something too much of this.
There is a play to-night before the King,
One fcene of it comes near the circumftance
Which I have told thee, of my father's death.
I pr'ythee, when thou feeft that act a-foot,
Ev'n with the very comment of thy foul
Obferve mine uncle: if his occult guilt
Do not itfelf unkennel in one fpeech,
It is a damned ghost that we have seen ;
And my imaginations are as foul

As Vulcan's flithy. Give him heedful note;
For I mine eyes will rivet to his face;

And, after, we will both our judgments join,
In cenfure of his feeming.

Hor. Well, my Lord.

If he fteal aught the whilft this play is playing,
And 'fcape detecting, I will pay the theft.

Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rofincrantz, Guildenstern and other Lords attendant, with a guard carrying torches. Danish march. Sound a flourish. Ham. They're coming to the play; I must be idle. Get you a place.

King. How fares our coufin Hamlet?

Ham. Excellent, i' faith, of the cameleon's difh: I cat the air, promise-cramm'd: you cannot feed capons fo.

King. I have nothing with this anfwer, Hamlet; thefe words are not mine.

Ham. No, nor mine.

Now, my Lord; you play'd once i' th' univerfity, you fay? [To Polonius. Pol. That I did, my Lord, and was accounted a good actor.

Ham. And what did

you enact?

Pol. I did enact Julius Cæfar, I was kill'd i' th' Capitol: Brutus kill'd me.

Нат.

Ham. It was a brute part of him, to kill fo capital a calf there. Be the players ready?

Rof. Ay, my Lord, they ftay upon your patience. Queen Come hither, my dear Hamlet, fit by me. Ham. No, good mother, here's mettle more at

tractive.

Pol. Oh ho, do you mark that?

Ham. Lady, fhall I lie in your lap?

Oph. No, my Lord.

[Lying down at Ophelia's feet.

Ham. I mean, my head upon your lap?

Oph. Ay, my Lord.

Ham. Do you think I meant country-matters ?
Oph. I think nothing, my Lord.

Ham. That's a fair thought, to lie between a maid's legs.

Oph. What is, my Lord?

Ham. Nothing.

Oph. You are merry, my Lord.

Ham. Who, F?

Oph. Ay, my Lord.

Ham. Oh God! your only jig-maker; what fhould a man do but be merry? For, look you, how chearfully my mother looks, and my father dy'd within these two hours.

Oph. Nay,, 'tis two months, my Lord..

Ham. So long? nay, then let the devil wear black, 'fore I'll have a fuit of fable. Oh heav'ns! die two months ago, and not forgotten yet! then there's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a-year: but, by'r lady, he must build churches then; or elfe fhall he fuffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse; whole epitaph is, Forch, for oh, the hobby-harfe is forgot.

SCENE VI. Hautboys play. The dumb fhew enters. Enter a Duke and Duchefs, with regal coronets, very la vingly, the Duchefs embracing him, and he her. She kneels he takes her up, and declines his head upon her neck; he lays him down upon a bank of flowers; sha, feeing him afleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his crown, kiffes it, and pours poifon in the

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Duke

Duke's ears, and exit. The Duchefs returns, finds the Duke dead, and makes passionate action. The poisoner; with fome two or three mutes, comes in again, feeming to lament with her. The dead body is carried away. The poifoner wooes the Duchefs with gifts; she seems loth and unwilling a while, but in the end accepts his love. [Exeunt.

Oph. What means this, my Lord? Ham. Marry, this is miching Malhechor; it means mifchief.

Oph. Belike this fhow imports the argument of the play?

Enter Prologue.

Ham. We fhall know by this fellow: the players cannot keep counfel; they'll tell all.

Oph. Will he tell us what this fhow meant?

Ham. Ay, or any fhow that you'll fhew him. Be not you afhamed to fhew, he'll not fhame to tell you what it means.

Oph. You are naught, you are naught, I'll mark the play.

Prol: For us, and for our tragedy,

Here ftooping to your clemency,

We beg your hearing patiently.

Ham. Is this a prologue, or the pofie of a ring? Oph. 'Tis brief, my Lord.

Ham. As woman's love.

Enter Duke, and Duchefs, Players.

Duke. Full thirty times hath Phoebus' car gone round Neptune's falt wash, and Tellus' orbed ground; And thirty dozen moons with borrowed fheen About the world have times twelve thirty been, Since love our hearts. and Hymen did our hands,. Unite commutual, in moft facred bands.

Duch. So many journeys may the fun and moon Make us again count o'er ere love be done. But woe is me you are fo fick of late,

So far from cheer and from your former state,

That