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Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
Repugnant to Command; unequal match'd,-
Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide ;
But with the whif and wind of his fell sword
Th’unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium
Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
Stoops to his Base ; and with a hideous crash
Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear. For lo, his sword,
Which was declining on the milky head
Of rev'rend Priam, seem'd i th' air to stick;
So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood ;
And, like a neutral to his will and matter, .
Did nothing
But as we often see, against some storm,
A silence in the heav'ns, the rack stand still,
The bold winds speechless, and the orb below
As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder
Doth rend the region : So after Pyrrhus' pause,
A roused vengeance sets him new a-work :
And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
On Mars bis armour, forg'd for proof eterne,
With less remorse than Pyrrhus bleeding sword
Now falls on Priam.
Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune! all you Gods,
In general fynod take away her power :
Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
And bowl the round naye down the hill of heav'n,
As low as to the fiends.

Pol. This is too long.

Ham. It shall to th' barber's with your beard. Pr'ythee, say on; he's for a jigg, or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps. Say on, come 10 Hecuba. i Play. But who, oh! who, had seen the mobled

Queen, Ham. The mobled Queen ? Pol. That's good ; mobled Queen, is good. 1 Play. Run bare-foot up and down, threatning the flames

With biffon rheum; a clout upon that head,
Where late the Diadem stood ; and for a robe
About her lank and all-o'er-teemed loins,
A-blanket in th' alarm of fear caught up:
Who this had féen, with tongue in venom steep'd,
'Gainst fortune's fate would treason have pronounc'd:
But if the Gods themselves did see her then,
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs ;
The instant burst of clamour that she made,
(Unless things mortal move them not at all)
Would have made milch the burning eyes of heav'n,
And passion in the Gods.

Pol. Look, whe’re he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears in's eyes. Pr’ythee, no more,

Ham. Tis well, I'll have thee fpeak out the rest of this foon. “Good my lord, will you see the Players well bestow'd ? Do you hear, let ibem be well us'd ; for they are the abstract, and brief chronicles of the time. After your

were better have a bad, Epitaph, than their ill report while you liv d.

Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their desert.

Ham. God's bodikins, man, much better. Use every man after his defert, and who shall 'fcape whipping ? use them after your own honour and dignity. The less they deserve, the more merit is in your: bounty. Take them in. Pol. Come, Sirs.

Exit Polonius. Ham. Follow bim, Friends : we'll hear a Play tomorrow. Dost thou hear me, old friend, can you play. the murder of Gonzago?

Play. Ay, my lord.

Ham. We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need, ftudy a speech of fome dozen or fixteen lines, which I would set down, and insert in't? could ye not? Play. Ay, my lord.


death, you

Ham. Very well. Follow that lord, and, look, you
mock him not. My good friends, I'll leave you 'till
night, you are welcome to Elfinoor..
Rof. Good



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Manet Hamlet. Ham.

Oh, what a rogue and peasant slave am I? Is it not monstrous that this Player here, But in a baion, in a dream of paffion, Could force his soul fo to his own conceit, That, from her working, all his visage wan'd: Tears in his eyes, diftra&ion in his aspect, A broken voice, and bis whole function fuiting, With forms, to his conceit? and all for nothing? For Hecuba? What's Hecuba to him, or be to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? what would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion, That I have? he would drown the Itage with tears, And cleave the gen’ral ear with horrid speech ; Make mad the guilty, and appall the free; Confound the ign'rant, and amaze, indeed, The very faculty of eyes and ears.--Yet I, A dull and muddy-metiled rascal, peak, Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, And can say nothing, -no not for a King, Upon whose property and most dear life A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward ? Who calls me villain, breaks my pate a-cross, Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by th'nose, gives me the lie i? th' throat, As deep as to the lungs ? who does me this? Yet I should take it for it cannot be, But I am pidgeon-liver'd, and lack gall To make oppression bitter; or, ere this,

I thould

I should have fatted all the region kites
With this slave's offal. Bloody, bawdy villain !
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
Why, what an ass am I? this is most brave,
That I, the son of a dear father murdered,
Prompted to my revenge by heav'n and hell,
Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
And fall a curfing like a very drab
A scullion,-fie upon't ! foh!-about, my brain!-
I've heard, that guilty creatures, at a Play,
Have by the very cunning of the Scene
Been ftruck so to the foul, that presently
They have proclaim'd their malefa&ions.
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have thefe Players
Play fomething like the murder of my father,
Before mine uncle. I'll observe his looks;
I'll tent him to the quick; if he but blench,
I know my course. The spirit, that I have feen,
May be the Devil ; and the Devil hath power
Tassume a pleasing shape ; yea, and, perhaps,
Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
(As he is very potent with such fpirits)
Abuses me to damn me.

I'll have grounds
More relative than this : The Play's the thing,
Wherein I'll catch the Conscience of the King. (Exit.



The P A LA CE.

Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrantz,

Guildenstern, and Lords.


N D can you by no drift of conference
Get from him why he puts on this confufion,


Grating so harshly all his days of quiet,
With turbulent and dang'rous lunacy?

Rof. He does confess, he feels himlelf distracted ;'
But from what cause he will by no means speak.

Guild. Nor do we find him forward to be founded ;
But with a crafty madness keeps aloof,
When we would bring him on to some confession
Of his true ftate.

Queen. Did he receive you well?
Rof. Most like a gentleman.
Guil. But with much forcing of his disposition.

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

Queen. Did you aslay him to any paftime ?

Ro), Madam, it fo fell out, that certain Players
+ We o'er-rode on the way; of these we told him ;
And there did seem in him a kind of joy
To hear of it. they are about the Court;
And (as I think) they have already order
This night to play before him.

Pol. 'Tis most true :
And he beseech'd me to intreat your Majesties
To hear and see the matter.
King. With all my heart, and it doth much con-

tent me
To hear him so inclin'd.
Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,
And drive his purpose into these delights.
Rf. We shall, my lord.

King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too ;
For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither,
* Niggard of question, but of our demands

Most free in his reply.- -} Such a Description can never pass but at Cross purposes, Shakespear certainly wrote it just the other Way,

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

+ We o'er-took on the way ;] The old Quarto reads o'er-taught cor-
urptly, for o'er-rode.



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