Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls, But as we often see, against some storm, A filence in the heav'ns, the rack ftand ftill, On Mars his armour, forg'd for proof eterne, Out, out, thou ftrumpet Fortune! all you Gods, Break all the fpokes and fellies from her wheel, Pol. This is too long. Ham. It fhall to th' barber's with your beard. Pr'ythee, fay on; he's for a jigg, or a tale of bawdry, or he fleeps. Say on, come to Hecuba. 1 Play. But who, oh who, had feen 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, 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 reft of this foon. Good my lord, will you fee the Players well beftow'd? Do you hear, let them be well us'd; for they are the abstract, and brief chronicles of the time. After your death, you were better have a bad Epitaph, than their ill report while you liv'd. Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their defert. Ufe Ham. God's bodikins, man, much better. every man after his defert, and who fhall 'fcape whipping? afe them after your own honour and dignity. The lefs they deferve, the more merit is in your bounty. Take them in. Pol. Come, Sirs. [Exit Polonius. Ham. Follow him, Friends: we'll hear a Play tomorrow. Doft 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 fet down, and infert in't? could ye not? Play. Ay, my lord. Ham... 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. Ref. Good my lord. Ham. A SCENE VIII. Manet Hamlet. [Exeunts Y, fo, God b' w' ye: now I am alone. Is it not monftrous that this Player here, A broken voice, and bis whole function fuiting, What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he fhould weep for her? what would he do, A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward? I' fhould Ifhould have fatted all the region kites With this flave's offal. Bloody, bawdy villain! A fcullion,-fie upon't! foh!-about, my brain! ACT III. The SCENE I. PALACE. Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rofincrantz, Guildenftern, and Lords. KING. A ND can you by no drift of conference Get from him why he puts on this confufion, Grating Grating fo harfhly all his days of quiet, Rof. He does confefs, he feels himself diftracted;" But from what cause he will by no means fpeak. Guild. Nor do we find him forward to be founded; But with a crafty madness keeps aloof, When we would bring him on to fome confeffion Of his true flate. Queen. Did he receive you well? Rof. Moft like a gentleman. * Guil. But with much forcing of his difpofition. Rof. Moft free of queftion, but of our demands Niggard in his reply. Queen. Did you assay him to any pastime? Rof. Madam, it fo fell out, that certain Players + We o'er-rode on the way; of these we told him; And there did feem in him a kind of joy To hear of it. they are about the Court; Pol. 'Tis moft true : And he befeech'd me to intreat your Majefties King. With all my heart, and it doth much con tent me To hear him fo inclin'd. Good gentlemen, give him a further edge, King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too; For we have closely fent for Hamlet hither, Niggard of queftion, but of our demands [Exeunt. Moft free in his reply.- -] Such a Defcription can never pass but at Crofs purposes, Shakespear certainly wrote it juft the other Way, + We o'er-took on the way;] The old Quarto reads o'er-raught cor urptly, for o'er-rode. Warb. Warb. Thate |