That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
Affront Ophelia. Her father, and myself,
Will fo below ourselves, that, seeing, unseen,
We may of their encounter frankly judge;
And gather by him, as he is behaved,
If't be th' affliction of his love, or no,
That thus he fuffers for.

Queen. I fhall obey you:

And for my part, Ophelia, I do wish,

That your good beauties be the happy caufe
Of Hamlet's wildness: So fhall I hope your virtues
May bring him to his wonted way again.

To both your honours.

Oph. Madam, I wish it may.

Pol. Ophelia, walk you

please ye,

We will beftow ourselves

[Exit Queen.

here.

-Gracious, fo

Read on this book;

That fhew of fuch an exercise may colour

Your loneliness. We're oft to blame in this,

'Tis too much prov'd, that with devotion's visage, And pious action, we do fugar o'er

The devil himself.

King. Oh, 'tis too true.

How fmart á lafh that speech doth give my con science !

The harlot's cheek, beautied with plaftring art,
Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it,
Than is my deed to my moft painted word. [Afide.
Oh heavy burden !

Pol. I hear him coming; let's withdraw, my lord.

Ham.

"T

[Exeunt all but Ophelia.

O be, or not to be? that is the question.-
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to fuffer

The flings and arrows of outrageous fortune;

Θε

* Or to take arms againft affail of troubles,
And by oppofing end them ?-to die,—to sleep-
No more; and by a fleep, to fay, we end
The heart-ach, and the thousand natural fhocks
That flesh is heir to; 'tis a confummation
Devoutly to be wifh'd. To die-to fleep-

To fleep? perchance, to dream; ay, there's the

rub

For in that fleep of Death what dreams may come,
When we have fhuffled off this Mortal coil,
Muft give us paufe-There's the respect,
That makes Calamity of fo long life.

For who would bear the whips and fcorns of time,
Th' oppreffor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pang of defpis'd love, the law's delay,
The infolence of office, and the fpurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes ;
When he himself might his Quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardles bear,
To groan and sweat under a weary life?
But that the dread of fomething after death,
(That undiscover'd country, from whose bourne
No traveller returns) puzzles the will;

And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus confcience does make cowards of us all:
And thus the native hue of resolution

Is ficklied o'er with the pale caft of thought;
And enterprizes of great pith, and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lofe the name of action-Soft you, now!

The fair Ophelia? Nymph, in thy orifons
Be all my fins remembred.

Oph. Good my lord,

[Seeing Oph.

How does your Honour for this many a day?

Or to take arms against a fea of troubles,] Without Question Shakespear wrote, -against Affail of Troubles. i. c. Affault. Warb

Ham.

Ham. I humbly thank you, well;

Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours, That I have longed long to re-deliver.

I pray you, now receive them.

Ham. No, I never gave you aught.

Oph. My honour'd lord, you know right well, you did:

And with them words of fo fweet breath compos'd,
As made the things more rich: that perfume loft,
Take these again; for to the noble mind

Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.
There, my lord.

Ham. Ha, ha, are you

Oph. My lord,

Ham. Are you fair?

honeft?

Oph. What means your lordship?

Ham. That if you be honeft and fair, you should admit no difcourfe to your beauty.

Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honefty?

Ham. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will fooner transform honefly from what it is, to a bawd; than the force of honefty can tranflate beauty into its likenefs. This was fometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof.—I did love you once.

Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so. Ham. You fhould not have believed me. For virtue cannot fo inoculate our old flock, but we fhall relish of it. I lov'd you not.

Oph. I was the more deceiv'd.

Ham. Get thee to a nunnery. Why wouldst thou be a breeder of finners? I am myfelf indifferent honeft; but yet I could accufe me of fuch Things, that it were better, my mother had not borne me. am very proud, revengeful, ambitious,

I

with more

offences

with more offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination, &c. What is the Meaning of Thoughts to put them in?

A

offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in name, imagination to give them fhape, or time to act them in. What fhould fuch fellows, as I, do crawling between heav'n and earth? we are arrant knaves, believe none of us-Go thy ways to a nunnery--Where's your father?

Oph. At home, my lord."

Ham. Let the doors be fhut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house. Farewel.

Oph. Oh help him, you sweet heav'ns!

Ham. If thou doft marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry. Be thou as chafte as ice, as pure as fnow, thou shalt not efcape calumny.-Get thee to a nunnery,—farewel-Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool for wife men know well enough, what monfters you make of them-To a nunnery, goand quickly too: farewel.

Oph. Heav'nly powers, reftore him!

:

Ham. I have heard of your painting too, well enough God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another. You jig, you amble, and you lifp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonnels your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't, it hath made me mad. I fay, we will have no more marriages. Those that are married already, all but one, fhall live; the reft fhall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go. [Exit Hamlet.

Oph. Oh, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, foldier's, fcholar's, eye, tongue, fword!

Th' expectancy and rofe of the fair State,

The glass of fashion, and the mould of form,

Th' obferv'd of all observers, quite, quite down!

A word is dropt out, We fhould read,

-thoughts to put them in name.]

This was the Progrefs. The Offences are firft conceived and named, then projected to be put in A&t, then executed.

Warb.

I am of ladies moft deject and wretched,
That fuck'd the honey of his music vows:
Now fee that noble and moft fovereign reason,
Like fweet bells jangled out of tune, and harfh;
That unmatch'd form, and feature of blown youth,
Blafted with ecstasy. Oh, woe is me!

T' have feen what I have feen; fee what I fee.

King. Lo

Enter King and Polonius.

OVE! his affections do not that way
tend,

Nor what he spake, tho' it lack'd form a little,
Was not like madnefs. Something's in his foul,
O'er which his melancholy fits on brood;
And, I do doubt, the hatch and the difclofe
Will be fome danger, which, how to prevent,
I have in quick determination

Thus fet it down. He fhall with speed to England,
For the demand of our neglected Tribute:
Haply, the Seas and Countries different,

With variable objects, fhall expel

This fomething-fettled matter in his heart;
Whereon his brains ftill beating, puts him thus
From fashion of himself. What think you on't?
Pol. It fhould do well. But yet do I believe,
The origin and commencement of this grief
Sprung from neglected love. How now, Ophelia ?-
You need not tell us what lord Hamlet faid,
We heard it all,My lord, do as you please ;
[Exit Ophelia.

But if you hold it fit, after the Play
Let his Queen-mother all alone intreat him:
To fhew his griefs; let her be round with him:
And I'll be plac'd, so please you, in the ear
Of all their conf'rence. If fhe find him not,
To England fend him; or confine him, where
VOL. IX.

N

You