Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth:
And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,
With windlaces, and with assays of bias,
By indirections find directions out;
So, by my former lecture and advice,

Shall you my son: You have me, have you not?
Rey. My lord, I have.

Pol.

God be wi' you; fare you well.
Rey. Good, my lord,
Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself.
Rey. I shall, my lord.

Pol. And let him ply his music.
Rey.

Of Hamlet's transformation; so I call it,
Since not the exterior nor the inward man
Resembles that it was: What it should be,
More than his father's death, that thus hath put
him
So much from the understanding of himself,
I cannot dream of: I entreat you both,
That,-being of so young days brought up with
him;

And, since, so neighbor'd to his youth and hu

mor,

Enter OPHELIA.

Pol. Farewell!-How now, Ophelia? what's the matter?

Oph. O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!

Pol. With what, in the name of heaven?

Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, Lord Hamlet,-with his doublet all unbraced; No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd, Ingarter'd, and down-gyved4 to his ankle; l'ale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other; And with a look so piteous in purport,

As if he had been loosed out of hell,

To speak of horrors,-he comes before me.
Pol. Mad for thy love?
Oph.

But, truly, I do fear it.
Pol.

My lord, I do not know;

What said he?

Oph. He took me by the wrist, and held me hard;
Then goes he to the length of all his arm;
And with his other hand thus o'er his brow,
He falls to such perusal of my face,

As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so;
At last, a little shaking of mine arm,
And thrice his head thus waving up and down,-
He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound,
As it did seem to shatter all his bulk,
And end his being: That done, he lets me go;
And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,
He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;
For out of doors he went without their helps,
And, to the last, bended their light on me.

Pol. Come, go with me; I will go seek the king. This is the very ecstasy of love;

Whose violent property foredoes itself,
And leads the will to desperate undertakings,
As oft as any passion under heaven,
That does afflict our natures. I am sorry,-
What, have you given him any hard words of late?
Oph. No, my good lord: but, as you did com-
mand,

I did repel his letters, and denied
His access to me.

Both your majesties Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, Put your dread pleasures more into command Than to entreaty.

Guil.

But we both obey;

And here give up ourselves, in the full bent;
To lay our service freely at your feet,
To be commanded.

King. Thanks, Rosencrantz, and gentle Guilden

I hold my duty, as I hold my soul,
Both to my God, and to my gracious king.
And I do think, (or else this brain of mine
Hunts not the trails of policy so sure
As it hath used to do,) that I have found
The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.

King. O, speak of that: that do I long to hear. Pol. Give first admittance to the ambassadors; My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in. [Exit POLONIS

He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found
The head and source of all your son's distemper.
His father's death, and our o'er-hasty marriage.
Queen. I doubt it is no other but the main;

Re-enter POLONIUS, with VOLTIMAND and
CORNELIUS.

King. Well, we shall sift him.-Welcome, my good friends!

Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway!
Volt. Most fair return of greetings, and desires.
Upon our first, he sent out to suppress
His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd
To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack,
But, better look'd into, he truly found
It was against your highness: Whereat griev'd,—
That so his sickness, age, and impotence,
Was falsely borne in hand,sends out arrests
On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys;
Receives rebuke from Norway; and, in fine,
Makes vow before his uncle, never more
To give the assay of arms against your majesty.
• Utmost exertion. Scent. Poland. Imposed on

And, at our more consider'd time, we'll read,
Answer, and think upon this business.

Mean time, we thank you for your well-took labor:
Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together:
Most welcome home!

[Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS.
Pol.
This business is well ended.
My liege, and madam, to expostulate2
What majesty should be, what duty is,
Why day is day, night, night, and time is time,
Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time,
Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
I will be brief: Your noble son is mad:
Mad call I it: for, to define true madness,
What is't, but to be nothing else but mad?
But let that go.

Queen.

More matter with less art.

Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all.
That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true, 'tis pity;
And pity 'tis 'tis true: a foolish figure;
But farewell it, for I will use no art.

Mad let us grant him then: and now remains,
That we find out the cause of this effect;
Or, rather say, the cause of this defect;
For this effect, defective, comes by cause:
Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.
Perpend.

I have a daughter; have, while she is mine;
Who, in her duty and obedience, mark,

Hath given me this: Now gather and surmise.
-To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most
beautified Ophelia,-

That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; beautified is a vile phrase; but you shall hear. Thus:

In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.-
Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her?
Pol. Good madam, stay awhile; I will be
ful.-

Doubt thou, the stars are fire;

Doubt, that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt, I love.

Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man. Pol. Honest, my lord?

Ham. Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand. Pol. That's very true my lord.

Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god, kissing carrion,-Have you a daughter!

Pol. I have, my lord.

[Reads.

O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art to reckon my groans; but that I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu.

Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him, Hamlet. This in obedience, hath my daughter shown me: And more above, hath his solicitings, As they fell out by time, by means, and place, All given to mine ear. King,

Receiv'd his love?

But how hath she

Pol.
What do you think of me?
King. As of a man faithful and honorable.
Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might
you think,

When I had seen this hot love on the wing,
(As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that,
Before my daughter told me,) what might you,
Or my dear majesty your queen here, think,
If I had play'd the desk, or table-book; ̧
Or given my heart a working, mute and dumb;
Or look'd upon this love with idle sight;
What might you think? no, I went round3 to work,
And my young mistress thus did I bespeak:
Lord Hamlet is a prince out of thy sphere;
This must not be: and then I precepts gave her,
That she should lock herself from his resort,
Adinit no messengers, receive no tokens.
Which done, she took the fruits of my advice;
And he, repulsed, (a short tale to make,)
Fell into a sadness; then into a fast;
Thence to a watch; thence into weakness;
Thence to a lightness; and, by this declension,
into the madness wherein now he raves,
And all we mourn for.

Pol. How say you by that? [Aside.] Still harping on my daughter:-yet he knew me not at first he said, I was a fishmonger: He is far gone, far gone: and, truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for love: very near this. I'll speak to him again.-What do you read, my lord! Ham. Words, words, words!

Pol. What is the matter, my lord?
Ham. Between who?

Pol. I mean the matter that you read, my lord. Ham. Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here, that old men have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber, and plum-tree gum; and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams: All of which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down; for yourself, sir, shall be as old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward.

Pol. Though this be madness, yet there's method in it. [Aside. Will you walk out of the air, my lord? Ham. Into my grave?

Pol. Indeed, that is out o' the air.-How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter.-My honorable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.

Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me any that I will more willingly part withal; except life, except my life, except my life.

Pol. Fare you well, my lord.

Hum. These tedious old fools!

Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.

Pol. You go to seek the lord Hamlet; there he is. Ros. God save you, sir! [TO POLONIUS. [Exit POLONIUS. • Ready, apt.

• Understanding.

• Be pregnant.

Ros. Neither, my lord.

faculties in form and moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me,-nor woman neither; though by your smiling you seem to say so.

Ros. My lord, there is no such stuff in my thoughts.

Ham. Why did you laugh then, when I said,

Guil. 'Faith, her privates we.

Ham. In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she is a strumpet. What news?

Ros. None, my lord: but that the world is grown honest.

Ham. Then is doomsday near: But your news is not true. Let me question more in particular: What have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune, that she sends you to prison hither?

Guil. Prison, my lord!
Ham. Denmark's a prison.

Ros. Then is the world one.

Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons; Denmark being

one of the worst.

Ros. We think 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.

Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one; 'tis too narrow for your mind.

Ham. O God! I could be bounded in a nut-shell, and count myself a king of infinite space; were it not that I have bad dreams.

Guil. Which dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.

Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow.

Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow.

Ham. Then are our beggars, bodies; and our monarchs, and outstretch'd heroes, the beggars' shadows: Shall we to the court? for, by my fay, I

cannot reason.

Ros. Guil. We'll wait upon you. Ham. No such matter: I will not sort you with the rest of my servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore?

Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion. Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you: and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear, a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, come; deal justly with me: come, come; nay, speak.

Guil. What should we say, my lord?

Ham. Any thing-but to the purpose. You were sent for, and there is a kind of confession in your looks, which your modesties have not craft enough to color: I know the good king and queen have sent for you.

Ros. To what end, my lord?

Ham. That you must teach me. But let me conjure you by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for, or no? Ros. What say you? [To GUILDENSTERN. Ham. Nay, then I have an eye of you; [Aside.] -if you love me, hold not off.

Guil. My lord, we were sent for.

Ham. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secresy to the king and queen moult no feather. I have of late, (but wherefore, I know not,) lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory: this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent Congregation of vapors. What a piece of work is man' How noole in reason! how infinite in

Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you: we coteds them on the way; and hither are they coming, to offer you service.

Ham. He that plays the king, shall be welcome; his majesty shall have tribute of me; the adventurous knight shall use his foil and target: the lover shall not sigh gratis: the humorous man shall end his part in peace: the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickled o' the sere; and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt fort.-What players are they?

Ros. Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the tragedians of the city.

Ham. How chances it they travel? their resi dence, both in reputation and profit, was better both

ways.

Ros. I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation.

Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? Are they so followed?

Ros. No, indeed, they are not.

Ham. How comes it? Do they grow rusty? Ros. Nay, their endeavor keeps in the wonted pace: But there is, sir, an aiery of children, little eyases,9 that cry out on the top of question,) and are most tyrannically clapp'd for't: these are now the fashion; and so berattle the common stages, (so they call them,) that many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of goose-quills, and dare scarce come hither.

Ham. What, are they children? who maintains them? how are they escoted 2 Will they pursue the quality3 no longer than they can sin? will they not say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common players, (as it is most like, if their means are no better,) their writers do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their ow succession?

Ros. 'Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and the nation holds it no sin, to tarre them on to controversy: there was, for a while, no money bid for argument, unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question.

Ham. Is it possible?

Guil. O, there has been much throwing about of brains.

Ham. Do the boys carry it away?

Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load, too.5

Ham. It is not very strange: for my uncle is king of Denmark, and those, that would make mouths at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an hundred ducats a-piece, for his p ture in little. 'Sblood, there is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out. [Flourish of Trumpets, within.

Guil. There are the players.

Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore Your hands. Come then: the appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb; lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you, must show fairly outward, should more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome; but my uncle-father, and aunt mother, are deceived.

Guil. In what, my dear lord.

Ham. I am but mad north-northwest: when the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a hand saw.

Provoke

i. e. The globe, the sign of Shakspeare's theatre. • Compliment.

-at each ear a hearer: that great baby, you see there, is not yet out of his swaddling-clouts.

Ros. Happily, he's the second time come to them; for they say an old man is twice a child. Ham. I will prophesy, he comes to tell me of the players; mark it.-You say right, sir: o' Monday morning; 'twas then, indeed.

Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you.

Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you: When Roscius was an actor in Rome,

Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord.
Ham. Buz, buz!

Pol. Upon my honor,—

Ham. Then came each actor on his ass,

Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral. [tragical-historical, tragicalcomical-historical-pastoral,] scene individable, or poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men.

Ham. O Jephthah, judge of Isruel, — what a treasure hadst thou!

Pol. What a treasure had he, my lord?
Ham. Why-One fair daughter, and no more,
The which he loved passing well.

[Aside.

Pol. Still on my daughter. Ham. Am I not in the right, old Jephthah? Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter, that I love passing well. Hum. Nay, that follows not.

Pol. What follows then, my lord? Ham. Why, As by lot, God wot, and then you know, It came to pass, As most like it was,-The first row of the pious chansons will show you more: for look, my abridgment comes.

Enter four or five Players.

You are welcome, masters; welcome all:-I am glad to see thee well:-welcome, good friends:0. old friend! Why, thy face is valanced since I saw thee last; Com'st thou to beard me in Denmark? What! my young lady and mistress! By'r lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last by the altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the ring.-Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en to it like French falconers, fly at any thing we see: We'll have a speech straight: Come, give us a taste 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 never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas caviare2 to the general:3 but it was (as I received it and others, whose judgments, in such matters, cried in the top of mine) an excellent play; well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said, there were no salads in the lines, to make the matter savory; nor no matter in the phrase, that might indite the author of affection; but called it an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech in it 1 chiefly loved: 'twas Æneas' tale to Dido; and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priam's slaughter: If it live in your memory, begin at this line; let me see, let me see:The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast,'tis not so; it begins with Pyrrhus.

The rugged Pyrrhus,-he, whose sable arms,
Black as his purpose, did the night resemble
When he lay couched in the ominous horse,
Hath now this dread and black complexum smear'd
With heraldry more dismal; head to foot
Now is he total gules; horridly trick'ds
With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons;
Baked and impasted with the parching streets,
That lend a tyrannous and a damned light

To their lord's murder: Roasted in wrath, and fire,
And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore,
With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Old grandsire Priam seeks ;-So proceed you.
Pol. 'Fore God, my lord, well spoken; with good
accent, and good discretion.

1 Play.
Anon he finds him,
Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword,
Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
Repugnant to command: Unequal match'a,
Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage, strikes uTM«<,
But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
The unnerv'd 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 reverend Priam, seem'd i the 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 heavens, 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, ofter Pyrrhus' pause,
A roused vengeance sets him new a-work;
And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
On Mars's armor, forged for proof eterne,
With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
Now falls on Priam.-

Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods,
In general synod, take away her power;
Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
And bowl the round nare down the hill of heaven,
As low as to the fiends!

Pol. This is too long.

Ham. It shall to the barber's with your beard -Pr'ythee, say on:-He's for a jig, or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps:-Say on: come to Hecuba. 1 Play. But who, ah woe! had seen the mobled queen

Ham. The mobled queen?

Pol. That's good; mobled queen is good.
1 Play. Run barefoot up and down, threat'ning
the flames

With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head
Where late the diadem stood; and, for a robe,
About her lank and all o'erteemed wins,
A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up;
Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd,
Gainst fortune's stute would treason have pro

nounced:

But if the gods themselves did see her then,
In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs ;
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
The instant burst of clamor that she made,
(Unless things mortal move them not at all,)
Would have made milch the burning eye of heaven,
And passion in the gods.

Pol. Look whether he has not turn'd his color, and has tears in's eyes.-Pr'ythee, no more. Ham. 'Tis well: I'll have thee speak out the rest of this soon. Good my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear, let them be chronicles, of the time: After your death you were well used; for they are the abstract, and brief better have a bad epitaph, than their ill report while you live.

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

Ham. Odd's bodikin, man, much better: Use every man after his desert, and who shall 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honor and dignity: The less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. Take them in. Pol. Come, sirs.

[Exit POLONIUS, with some of the Players. Ham. Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play tomorrow. Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you

play the murder of Gonzago?

1 Play. Ay, my lord.

Ham. We'll have it to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which I would set down, and insert in't could you not?

1 Play. Ay, my lord.

Ham. Very well.-Follow that lord; and look you mock him not. [Exit Player.] My good friends, To Ros. and GUIL.] I'll leave you till night: you are welcome to Elsinore. Ros. Good my lord!

[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN. Ham. Ay, so, God be wi' you:-Now I am

alone.

Light clouds. Eternal. Muffled. Blind. Milky

O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
Is it not monstrous, that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit,
That from her working all his visage wann'd;
Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,

A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing!
For Hecuba!

What's Hecuba to him, or he 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 stage with tears,
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech;
Make mad the guilty, and appal the free,
Confound the ignorant; and amaze, indeed,
The very faculties of eyes and ears.
Yet 1,

A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,
Like John-a-dreains, 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 across?
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the
throat,

As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this?
Ha!

Why, I should take it; for it cannot be,
But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall

To make oppression bitter; or, ere this,

I should have fatted all the region kites
With this slave's offal: Bloody, bawdy villain!
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless vil-
lain!

Why, what an ass am I? This is most brave;
That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,
Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
And fall a cursing, like a very drab,
A scullion!

Fye upon't! foh! About my brains! Humph! I have heard,

That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,
Have by the very cunning of the scene
Been struck so to the soul, that presently
They have proclaim'd their malefactions;
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players
Play something like the murder of my father,
Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;
I'll tent him to the quick; if he do blench,?
I know my course. The spirit, that I have seen,
May be a devil: and the devil hath power
To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and, perhaps,
Out of my weakness, and my melancholy,
(As he is very potent with such spirits.)
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.

[Erit

SCENE I-A Room in the Castle.

Enter KING, QUEEN, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN.

King. And can you, by no drift of conference, Get from him, why he puts on this confusion; Grating so harshly all his days of quiet With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?

Ros. He does confess, he feels himself distracted; But from what cause he will by no means speak. Guil. Nor do we find him forward to be sounded; But with a crafty madness, keeps aloof, When we would bring him on to some confession

Of his true state.

Queen.

Did he receive you well?

Ros. Most like a gentleman. Guil. But with much forcing of his disposition. Ros. Niggard of question; but, of our demands, Most free in his reply.

Queen.

To any pastime?

Did you assay him

Ros. Madam, it so fell out, that certain players We o'er-raught 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 entreat your majesties To hear and see the matter.

King. With all my heart; and it doth much content me

To hear him so inclin'd.

Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,
And drive his purpose on to these delights.
Ros. We shall, my lord.

[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN.
King.
Sweet Gertrude, leave us too:
For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither;
That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
Atfront Ophelia:

Her father, and myself, (lawful espials,s)
Will so bestow ourselves, that seeing, unseen,
We may of their encounter frankly judge;
And gather by him, as he is behaved,
If't be the affliction of his love or no,
That thus he suffers for.

Queen.

I shall obey you: And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish, That your good beauties be the happy cause Of Hamlet's wildness: so shall I hope, your virtues

Will bring him to his wonted way again, To both your honors.

Oph.

Madam, I wish it may. [Exit QUEEN Pol. Ophelia, walk you here:-Gracious, 80 please you,

We will bestow ourselves:-Read on this book,
[To OPHEL'A
That show of such an exercise may color
Your loneliness.-We are oft to blame in this,-
'Tis too much prov'd,3-that, with devotion's visage,
And pious action, we do sugar o'er
The devil himself.
King.
O, 'tis too true! how smart
A lash that speech doth give my conscience!
The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastering art,
Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it,
Than is my deed to my most painted word;
O heavy burden!

Arize. Pol. I hear him coming; let's withdraw, my lort. [Exeunt KING and POLONICS. Enter HAMLET.

Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the question:-
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune;
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And, by opposing, end them? - To die, to
sleep,-

No more; and, by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to,-'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die;-to sleep:-
To sleep! perchance to dream;-ay, there's the
rub;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,“
Must give us pause: There's the respect,
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's cor
tumely,6

The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkins Who would fardels beat
To grunt and sweat under a weary life;
But that the dread of something after death,-
• Unnatural.
Search his wounds.
■ Too frequent.
Rudeness.

3 Shrink or start.

Consideration.

The ancient term for a small dagger.