That he should weep for her? what would he do, Why what an Afs am I? I fure, this is moft brave, Prompted to my Revenge by Heav'n and Hell, A Scullion ---- Fye upon't! Foh! About my Brain. Been ftruck fo to the Soul, that presently Out Out of my Weakness, and my Melancholy, АСТ III. SCENE I. SCENE The Palace. [Exit. 1 Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rofeneraus, Guildenftern and Lords. King. AND can you by no drift of Circumstance from him why he puts on this Confufion, Grating fo harshly all his Days of quiet, Rof. He does confefs he feels himself distracted, When we would bring him on to fome Confeffion Of his true State. Queen. Did he receive you well? Rof. Moft like a Gentleman. Guild. But with much forcing of his difpofition Rof. Niggard of Queftion, but of our Demands Moft free in his reply. Queen. Did you affay him to any pastime? Rof. Madam, it fo fell out, that certain Players Pol. 'Tis moft true: And he befeech'd me to intreat your Majefties To hear and fee the Matter. King. With all my Heart, and it doth much content me To hear him fo inclin'd. Good Gentlemen, Give him a further Edge, and drive his Purpose on To thefe Delights. Rof. Rof. We fhall, my Lord. King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too, [Exeunt. Affront Ophelia. Her Father, and my felf, lawful efpials Will fo bestow our felves, that seeing unfeen We may of their Encounter frankly judge, And gather by him, as he is behaved, Queen. I fhall obey you: And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish That your good Beauties be the happy cause To both your Honours. Oph. Madam, I wish it may. Pol. Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious, so please ye, The Devil himself. King. Oh 'tis too true; How fmarta lafh that Speech doth give my Conscience? Pol. I hear him coming, let's withdraw, my Lord. Enter Hamlet. Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the Question : Devoutly Devoutly to be wifh'd. To die to Sleep- For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of Time, Is ficklied o'er, with the pale caft of Thought; And lofe the name of Action. Soft you now, [Seeing Oph. Be all my Sins remembred. Oph. Good my Lord, How does your Honour for this many a Day? I pray you now receive them. Ham. No, no, I never gave you ought. yours, Oph. My honour'd Lord, I know right well you did, Rich Gifts wax poor, when Givers prove unkind. Ham. Ha, ha! are you honeft? Oph. Oph. My Lord Ham. Are you fair? Oph. What means your Lordship? Ham. That if you be honest and fair, your Honefty should admit no Difcourfe to your Beauty. Oph. Could Beauty, my Lord, have better Commerce than with Honesty? Ham. Ay truly; for the power of Beauty, will fooner transform Honefty from what it is, to a Bawd, than the force of Honefty can tranflate Beauty into his likenefs. This was fometimes a Paradox, but now the time gives it proof. L did love you once. Oph. Indeed, my Lord, you made me believe fo. I Ham. You fhould not have believed me. For Virtue cannot fo inoculate our old Stock, but we shall relish of it. I loved you not. Oph. I was the more deceived. Ham. Get thee to a Nunnery. Why wouldst thou be a breeder of Sinners? I am my felf indifferent honeft, but yet I could accuse me of fuch things, that it were better my Mother had not born me. I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more Offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in Imagination, to give them fhape, or time to act them in. What fhould fuch Fellows as I do crawling between Heaven and Earth. We are arrant Knaves all, be lieve 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. O help him, you fweet 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 Snow, thou fhalt not escape Calumny--- Get thee to a Nunnery, GofarewelOr if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wife Men know well enough, what Monfters you make of them----To a Nunnery go--and quickly too. Farewel. Oph. O heav'nly Powers! reftore him. Ham. I have heard of your pratling too, well enough. God has given you one pace, and you make your felf another: You jig, you amble, and you lifp, and Nick-name God's |